Run Away

The sun was setting across the desert floor. It was another painting-like sunset for which Arizona and New Mexico were famous. That was just the issue, though. Every day just like the last. Same sun, same dead end job, same problems, same boring life. She tried changing things up. She tried finding hobbies. She tried going out more. She tried making new friends. Nothing worked, she kept coming back to the same monotonous feelings of going no where in life.

She had taken the same way home from work every day. Another Saturday wasted at work. Another Saturday spent promising herself things would change. Another Saturday choosing which alcohol would dull the boredom for that night while giving the outward appearance that she had somewhat of a life.

She saw the moving truck driving in front of her and yearned for that to be her. Her soul ached for real change. Change that would guarantee a better life, or at least a different one than what she was forced to live. She didn't know what she wanted, she just knew it wasn't anything she had right now.

As she day dreamed about what a different life would feel like, she suddenly realized she wasn't in Arizona anymore. She saw a sign welcoming her to New Mexico and quickly glanced at the clock. She had been driving for over two hours...following that moving truck. How did this happen? Who does this? How much gas did she have left?

She pulled off of the highway as soon as she saw advertisements for gas stations. As she stood there, pumping gas into her car, she watched the vehicles on the highway as they zoomed passed her. What was she going to do? She could easily get back on the highway and find her way home. Or, she could just as easily get back on the highway and keep going forward. What she should  do and what she wanted to do were two very different things at that moment. Or were they? Should she stay in a life that was slowly killing her? She had tried to make changes in her life, but obviously she couldn't find what she needed. How was going back to a life she hated a good thing...a thing she should do?

She couldn't think clearly. All she could focus on was her heart beating in her ears. Nothing was making sense. She got into her car and got back on the highway. It wasn't long before she caught up to that same moving truck. She knew it had to be the same one because it was pulling a trailer with a blue Camero on it. She wondered to where they were moving. What would it feel like to wake up and not see a cactus? They must have a brilliant new job to make them move. Maybe they found someone to love for the rest of their life and would have to find a job once they got there. Either way, it had to feel wonderful...that promise of a new and different adventure. Waking up and not knowing what the day would have in store.

She noticed that the pinks and blues of the sunset had turned to pitch black as the moving truck signaled off the highway. She continued until she saw a rest stop.


                                      **********************************

He knew he should have left work when he had the chance. After all, when was the last time he actually got home on time? Being a detective, he didn't really have office hours, but on the rare day his cases were closed before a new one crossed his inbox he knew better than to linger too long around five o'clock. Unfortunately, he wasn't fast enough. Just as he grabbed for his jacket, a clerk dropped a file into his box. Should he stop to have a look? Did he want to get sucked into a new case just as his opportunity to be the family man his wife and kids needed so badly could come to fruition? What he should do and what he wanted to do were two very different things at that moment.

He couldn't help it. People didn't go missing on a schedule. What if he lost a lead because he chose to go home a minute early? He would just look the file over and if nothing jumped out at him, he would continue on his way home.

Female...24 years old...last seen at work on Saturday...no show no call for her next shift and every shift since that Saturday...landlady hasn't seen her and her rent is now late. Her work, where she was last seen, was on his way home.

He walked in and immediately asked for a manager. This would be a quick interview, in and out. Probably no leads to be realized, but how could he ignore this missing person and just go home...how would that be something he should do?

"I told the cop who took my report everything I know. I saw her last Saturday when her shift ended. She hasn't been to work since and has missed all of her shifts. No, this is not like her. She's never been late to any of her shifts in all the years she has worked here. No, wait...there was one time when I think she had car trouble, but she called way before her shift started. No, she didn't seem upset or different the last time I saw her. She was her normal, no personality self. No, I don't know if anybody here knows her outside of work, but please, don't give anyone an excuse not to work. Look, I don't have time for this. The only reason I made the report is because I can't fire her and close her employee record if I can't get a hold of her. The way I see it, I'll let the professionals do the hard part. When you find her, I can fire her."

He never got used to it, the callous, unsympathetic human roadblocks who stood in the way of moving a missing person's case along. Every case had at least one person like that. He never, in all of the years he worked in this division, understood why. Why wouldn't someone do all they could to help find a missing person?

"You want me to look in her employee record and give you the information of her 'in case of emergency' person? Is that legal? I mean, I won't get into trouble for giving out information that is supposed to be private? *HUGE SIGH* I mean, it's going to take me a minute to find her information."

He texted his wife to let her know he would be home soon.

"Here's her employee record. I need to get back to work so bring it back when you're done with it."

He left shaking his head in sadness. Was it sadness from the unfeeling interaction he just had with a missing person's boss, or was the sadness caused by knowing that this was going to be an impossible case to solve?

The next day started out the same way the day before had ended. The landlady.

"Don't you people write anything down? I thought you had fancy voice recorders to record everyone's conversations...whether they give you permission or not. Yes, she's always been on time with her rent. Hell, some months she was early. I could count on her check being the first in the rent slot. No, I've never had any issues with her. NO, she doesn't have a lot of people coming and going. Are you going to let me know when I can clean her apartment out? I need to rent it out before I start losing all my money! I can auction her stuff off to recoup this month's rent, or close to it, but I need to start listing it now! What? Who is her emergency contact? Well, I don't know. She must have written somebody down on her application. Her application couldn't have been processed without every line being filled out. You want me to go get it? Right now?!

He watched her limp off in her "Three's Company/Mrs. Roper" house dress. He guessed this human roadblock was about a million years old and probably never once thought to be kind to another human being in all those years on this earth. He started to knock on doors using her employee of the month picture as identification. Certainly someone here must know her. Nobody answered. As he watched the landlady come closer, he mentally kicked himself for not demanding the key, as well as the contact information.

"Here! Now can I list her stuff for auction so I can get my money?! What? Now you want her key? Well, don't take anything. If she can't pay her rent that stuff is mine!"

He prayed all the way up to her apartment that he would find something of use...and no dead bodies. Probably should have thought of the dead body thing first, but he was trying to be hopeful that she had just run away and not expired. Her apartment was dark. He didn't noticed any fowl smells. The apartment looked kind of empty, everything in its place, but not a lot of anything. He made his way through the small apartment, clearing every space. Nothing. The only clue that she was human was the fact that it looked like she had lived on diet soda and various alcohol. No chips, no cookies, no cigarettes. Every room was another dead end. He looked over her rental application. There was only one name listed under the personal reference section and it was the same name that filled the emergency contact line. He figured it had to be mom or sister.

"Hello? Who did you say this is? You're a detective? Who are you looking for? Yes, I know her. That's my cousin...my mom's sister's daughter. No, I haven't seen her in years. Not since we graduated from high school. The last time I talked to her was probably around two years ago. She called out of the blue wanting to meet up, you know, reconnect, but I was pregnant at the time, so I told her maybe another time. What can I tell you about her? Umm...she's responsible and she's quiet. *SCREAMING IN THE BACKGROUND* Yes, everything is okay, just trying to wrangle my toddlers. I wish I could be of more help. I have no idea where she could have gone off to. I don't know who her friends are or if she's dating anybody. Look, I really do have my hands full so I gotta let you go. Tell her to call me when you find her."

It was another day ending in a head shake. At least he'd be home on time again...was that a good thing?

He woke up to his phone vibrating across the nightstand. He didn't want to answer it for fear it would be another impossible case. It was worse. It was homicide. They found a body in the desert...where else? It matched her description. He would be in the office ASAP with her photo.


                                       *********************************************

She woke up just as the sun peaked above the sand and cacti. Another painted desert sunrise. Same sun, same dead end job, same problems, same boring life. Only, this time, she was thankful she still had the same old stuff. Two days ago she could have lost it all. She could have thrown it all away and have nothing right now. No place to live, no job...nothing. As she got herself ready for work, she listened to a story about a young woman who had gone missing and now detectives had found her body in the desert. They were looking for any information about this poor girl.

She remembered thinking that this girl could have been her. She thought about how similar this girl's story was to her own for days. She couldn't let it go. She had to do something to change her life and ensure she wouldn't end up like this poor girl on the news. For God's sake, she had followed a moving van all the way to New Mexico just to try to find some change, some purpose. In a flash it came to her. She looked up this girl's story on line to find the detective's name.

"Hello? Yes, I'm looking for information. You see, this girl that was found in the desert could have been me. How do I become a detective in the missing persons' division?"

                                                                        END

Yes, this picture was really taken in Arizona or New Mexico. I was riding in the moving truck that is in front of this vehicle, so I'm not sure at which exact point it was taken. It was a very looong trip and honestly, after a while, every desert landscape looked the same regardless of which state we were in. It wasn't until the third day of this trip that I didn't think we were ludicrous and the worst people on the face of the earth for moving our young girls and us away from our extended families. Finally, on that third and last day, I began to feel hope and allow myself to think of all of the fantastic what-ifs. It was definitely a life-changing trip and I thank God every day that He led us on that journey.

New Beginnings

What is "impromptu" writing? It's a term I put together to describe this blog's style of writing. For this style of writing, I find a picture and then create a fictional story that accompanies it. It can be a nature photo where the story is driven by the setting. It could be a photo of people posing as I find a new story to parallel their picture. Any picture may evoke a new fictional story! Here's this week’s....

  

  

 Sure, I would smile for the camera, what did I have to lose? After all, this was probably the closest I would get to my parents gazing at me the way they were beaming at my sister. Saying that they were proud of my sister was certainly an understatement. They have pride oozing out of every pore on their bodies. What's worse is I know that there is nothing on this earth I could ever do to earn that pride from my parents for myself. I could discover the cure to some horrible disease, or invent something that would change life for the better and yes, they would be proud of me, but not like this. It's not their fault. It's magic.

Yes, my sister Helen has been invited to attend the best witches’ university in the United States. Did we know we had a witch in the family? Yes, my Dad was a well-known witch, so it came as no surprise that at least one of us would receive an invitation to one of the leading magical schools. My dad's time as a witch was short, but that's a story for a different time. As is the theme of the day, my attention is on Helen's story. I'm trying as much as I can to keep the green-eyed monster of jealousy away, but it's difficult when I continually question fate and the universe's decision to choose her...only her. My dad advised me that it would be to my own detriment to ask any "why" questions in this situation and trust that there was an equally awesome adventure for me, But if you ask me that sounded like generic "dad talk." You know, the stuff that all parents have to say to the "lesser" child.  

The steam engulfs my face as Helen climbs the steps onto the train. The excitement she must feel right at this moment, not to mention the wonderment she will encounter on her unique journey to the school is overwhelming. Dad has not only described this journey in bedtime stories, but he has sketched the fine fir trees that cover the countryside, welcoming students, and alerting them that they have almost arrived at their magical destination. That's only after traveling across miles and miles of track hovering above the glassiest water one would ever see. I spent my entire childhood closing my eyes to dream of these sights, but it will be Helen who witnesses these beautiful sights in person.

I can't help it. It should have been me. Helen didn't even like Dad's stories. She was forever rolling her eyes as he described his first days at the elite witches’ university. The only spells she was ever interested in were the spells that lessened her workload in some way. Of course, that means she would have to remember a spell. Then there's the issue she has of making the spell actually work. She is horrible at spells because she never wanted to listen to dad. 

Suddenly I hear the train whistle bellow and the engine hiss it's final puff of steam before the giant wheels begin their first rotation. I turn to find my parents and see a sea of adults waving, blowing kisses, and yelling their final goodbyes. I want to sprint back to the car so we can get that lonely ride back home over with. I already hear my mother recounting all the ways she is proud of Helen...how special Helen is, how intelligent Helen is....and as if that weren't enough, how beautiful Helen is, too. My mother's attitude towards Helen's "achievements" are especially infuriating to me. My mother is one of the main reasons my dad is no longer a practicing witch. That's right, my mother loathes that part of my dad's life and yet as soon as Helen received her notification of invitation, my mother was the first to spread the word with over-the-top pride. It's the ultimate in hypocrisy and if I think about it for another moment, I might turn her into something. 

Yes, I can do magic. Technically, I'm not supposed to cast any spells or enchantments for many different reasons, but I just can't help it. There are times when the magic seems to just flow from my fingers without any intention or purpose from me. Luckily, the few times this has happened nobody was around. I thought for sure when the invitation arrived at the house that it was going to be me boarding that train today, but no, it was Helen's name announced. After hearing her name and not mine, I probably stood in that spot…in that moment for hours, I was in such disbelief. I still can't believe it.

***************************************************************

Helen has been gone for a few months now. We receive weekly letters from her, reporting all of her new discoveries and adventures. She's not much of a writer, though, as her early experiences at the  university don't sound nearly as... excuse my pun...magical as I was expecting. I'm still debating if this is solely from the fact that she isn't much of a writer, or if my expectations, once again have exceeded reality. Either way, I don't have time to focus on Helen anymore. My life has exponentially become more exciting as my dad has not only started practicing magic again, but is teaching me more advanced magical skills! Previously, he had insisted that he could never teach me as his student because of my mother, but the impossible is happening. Only, I don't think he's happy about it. It's not that he's afraid of getting caught breaking his promise to my mom, it's something quite different. It's almost as if he feels something magically big will enter into our world and he's preparing me. AND, I think my mother already knows that he is teaching me the ways of the witch and is okay(-ish) with it. Whatever it is, we're ready. My dad and I are unstoppable.

Today, I'm practicing my potions. It's not one of my stronger skills, but my dad wants me to have a working knowledge of all the major components to magic, so here I am, bumbling around the kitchen. The upside to me practicing potions in the kitchen is that I can legitimately drive my mother from the area. Don't get me wrong, my mother does not spend a lot of time in the kitchen, but when the potion bottles come out, my mother tends to find even more excuses to leave the room, sometimes even the house depending on her level of frustration. Just like with my Dad, though, I have the feeling that there is more to her frustration. As if she knows why my dad is teaching me all of this and her frustration is founded more in fear.

 ***************************************************************

  

Something very weird happened on my way to school this morning. Something tried to grab me. That's right...something...not someone. As I turned the corner out of sight from my house a grey cloud surrounded me. It reminded me of the steam from the train on that awful day Helen left for school, but then I felt something tugging my entire body. Without thinking, my hands went into motion and I heard myself reciting a protection spell. I chanted it over and over again increasing my volume until the cloud dissipated. I didn't know what to do after that so I continued on to school. I tried calling my dad, but it went to voicemail and I didn't want to leave details of what had happened on a voicemail. I'm going through all of the normal routines of my school day, but I find myself being extra cautious. Peaking around corners instead of using my quick, just-get-me-through-the-day stride. Of course, I'm continually questioning myself as to if the events of that morning really even happened. Maybe I was daydreaming? 

I called my dad again before walking home from school, but just like this morning, I only reached his voicemail. I actually called my mom just to make sure nothing else had happened (why hadn't I thought to do that this morning?) and she said he had been in meetings at work all day. He came home for a quick bite of lunch and then back to work for more meetings. Dad warned me that if something were to happen it would be when I was most vulnerable...does my dad being in meetings all day count? Well, I'm ready for whatever weird event may happen on my way home, especially after this morning. 

The wind stopped, that's funny. The wind has been steadily blowing off and on all day and now nothing. It's funny the things we notice when truly paying attention to our surroundings. I see a jack rabbit sitting in a garden...he better run before Mrs. Fletcher comes out and catches him in her award-winning flower bed. I see a squirrel on the side of the tree. He must have heard me and decided to freeze until I pass. Once I walk by a bit, I turn around and expect to see the rabbit hopping off and the squirrel in motion either up or down the tree, but to my surprise neither animal has moved. I stay motionless for a couple of minutes, but nothing has changed. What's going on? I look up and see a bird in mid-flight, but frozen...wings not moving. Something is here, but what?  I try to turn to run home only to find that I too am frozen. I immediately start my protection chant, but I have to do something more. I have to find a way to move again. My fingers start to wiggle as I alternate my protection chant with a will to move spell. I can't panic...I can do this. I can now move my hands and arms and continue to gain control of more of my body until I can finally run. I continue chanting until I get home. 

Where's my mother? She told me during our phone conversation that she would be home when I arrived, but I can't find her. What's that noise? Somebody is on our roof! Before I can think about investigating from outside, I hear someone upstairs. Whoever or whatever it is, is getting closer! I start my protection chant again as I slowly walk up the stairs. I can hear rummaging upstairs like someone is going through my drawers. As I turn the corner to head towards my bedroom I notice Helen's door half closed. Ever since she left for the university we keep her bedroom door closed. I try to distract myself from thinking about what could be in Helen's room with remembering what excuse my dad gave as to why it is smart to close off her bedroom...heating efficiency...air conditioner bill...it's something like that. All out of excuses and steps, I force myself to push the door open to its entirety. 

I see a body of light, but it's not a brilliant light. It's a grey, dull light. I try a dissipate spell, but it doesn't do anything. I try a couple more spells, but only manage to annoy the being. I feel my feet leave the carpeted floor as I slowly fly up into the roof and then quickly back down. Luckily, I land on Helen's bed. I feel the grey steam cloud from this morning and before I can start chanting, it's gone.

I sit up and see my dad walking out of Helen's closet. 

"What was THAT?" I demand.

"That was my past catching up to me." my dad says shaking his head.

"What does that mean? Where's mom?" I ask.

"Your mom is safe with Helen." he says. "Magic like this isn't supposed to be practiced in our world, but as with anything in life you have people who don't agree with the rules and have their own agendas." dad explains. "That being wants something that isn't theirs and will do anything to get it. They have their own set of rules and therefore believe they shouldn't have to abide by ours, regardless of the fact that they are in our world. This is why I have started to train you and why Helen was invited to the school of magic."

What did he mean... this is why Helen was invited to the magic school?? I can’t make sense of what my dad is telling me. I sit down with a dumbfounded “thunk.” As if my dad could read my thoughts he continues to explain.

"The officers of magic knew that these beings wanted something in our world. They weren't sure which exactly so each of us took a suspected magical relic and hid it. Knowing that our families would become targets, Helen was "invited" to one of the magic schools for protection. The officers knew you have natural abilities when it comes to spells, so I talked your mom into letting me train you, secretly, in this world. I placed extra protection enchantments on your mother so at any point she thought she was in danger she would be transported to Helen at the witches’ university, no matter what happened to me."

"Why didn't you explain any of this before? Everything would have made so much more sense." I wonder out loud.

"We all thought it would be best if you didn't know the details. We didn't want you to spend these months in worry about what may or may not happen. We didn't know if, or when these beings would come to our world. This way you could live normally for as long as possible. I know you were upset when Helen was invited to the witches' university and you weren't. I thought I could make that up to you by training you here at home." answers dad.

"Will those beings come back to find what they're looking for?" I hesitantly ask.

Dad shakes his head and replies, "Only time will tell."

END

...can y'all tell what kind of books I've read? I have to end this week's blog with some nonfiction. The woman in the picture is my beloved mother-in-law. No, I'm not being sarcastic. I truly love my mother-in-law. Unfortunately, we lost her this past summer. She was quite a human, for sure. According to my daughters, their Grandma was magical, and I one hundred percent believe that, as well. Knowing her, I could have gone in SO MANY different directions for this week's short story. It comes as a huge surprise that I ended up with this type of story. I have written in a lot of different genres; however, fantasy hasn't really been one of them. I almost didn't publish this version, but my husband (a very talented D&D Dungeon Master and "me-appointed "expert in this genre) said I need to use this version of the story as long as at some point I continue it. I hope you enjoy it as well, and as always, I welcome comments. 

Valentine's Day Autobiography...Just in Time for my First Blog!

 Love stories...either you love them, or you hate them, but there are always strong feelings associated with them. As my inaugural post, my short story revolves around my own love story...

She was seven years old and already stressing out about the wrong things in life. He was eight years old and very good at being that age. Being eight years old meant long days full of never-ending fun adventures for him. Stressing out at seven years old meant every detail of life brought some measure of difficulty to her. She saw him, he saw her and life continued for the next decade and a half.


She rang the doorbell, knowing someone had to be home. After all, She had just left her brother and nephews at the restaurant, and seeing how she drove like a grandma and her brother didn't, there was no way she had beat him to his house. So there she stood, ringing the doorbell over and over, just like a good little sister. Much to her horror, instead of her brother or nephews being on the other side of the door, it was a ghost from her past. A very handsome and grown up ghost from her past.

In an instant she knew there was something different about him. Sure, she knew of him...remembering him from elementary school, junior high school, and high school, but did he recognize her? A better question, what made this human being different from every other from her past, or present for that matter? She couldn't keep her eyes off of him. She followed his every move, listened to every syllable, determined to figure out why this person glowed. Of course, she knew it was just her who thought he glowed in some sot of life-altering significance. The more time that passed, though, the more she felt like she held some sort of significance for him, too. She knew he smiled bigger just for her. She knew he stared lovingly at her, especially when she wasn't looking. She knew he felt the same way...and so they kissed and both knew it was so much more than a kiss.

That's it, really. After that afternoon there wasn't a day she didn't speak with him or even an hour during the day that she didn't think of him. About a week later, he professed his love for her and she responded with a, "I think I love you, too." For a girl who had been bitterly burned by what she had thought was love in the past, this phrase, this feeling was a milestone in her own mental growth. After six months of dating, on bended knee and at her favorite restaurant, he proposed to her. She said yes, and a year later, almost to the day, they became wife and husband.

That's not really where their love story ended, though. Throughout decades of marriage they fell in love with each other over and over almost every day. Was their marriage always like this? Heck no! Their first ten years of marriage was laden with land mines. A few of those land mines exploded and in an instant, their love story almost ended. There came a time in both of their lives when they had to choose, it sounds epic; do they stay or do they leave? Their relationship was just sad, truly sad. They both realized that there was no other love as strong as the love that they had for each other in the world, but was it too late? There was damage done. To mend their love meant that they had to put their egos aside and piece together faith in God and each other. Over time, trust had to be built from a bottomed-out basement. Life was a struggle, at best, for them as a couple and just in general. Just waking up in the morning and getting the day started could prove to be too much for either one of them. They did it, though. One day at a time...with each passing day their love grew stronger. Not every day was stronger than the last. The old adage, "two steps forward, one step back" haunted those rebuilding months.

 There came a day when their life together finally held more laughter than tears. All of those difficult and frustrating conversations melted away and what was left was the beauty of the love that had hit each of them that first day when she incessantly rang the doorbell and he answered it. The next decade they spent falling in love with each other over and over. Some days it was by choice, some days they just couldn't help it. Her extremely bad short term memory caused him to smile so big he had to laugh. His continual want to make sure every wish of hers was mentally recorded, and if possible acted upon, made her feel like the luckiest person alive.

Wait, that's the end, you ask? But there are two pictures...which couple is this love story about??

I hesitate in answering that question because without the one love story, mine would never exist. Both because the couple in the black and white picture are my grandparents, who loved each other immensely (and let's face it, without them I wouldn't even be here), and because they taught me what true love really is and isn't. True love doesn't mean a perfect relationship. True love means the relationship is worth fighting for, even if that fight goes on for months or years. Even if two steps forward means one step back.

I love love stories. Even when Valentine's Day was brutally painful for me, I was still a sucker for any love story. I think I love the fact that there are no two love stories that are exactly the same. Some love stories are short, some last a lifetime. Some people have multiple love stories and each holds a special place in their heart. Some love stories have a happy ending, but many end in hurt or loneliness. Many people strive for the ending in the movie, "The Notebook," but very few can have that.

What's your favorite love story?