tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61222076229518316532024-03-05T08:21:14.156-05:00Thoughts Off the Top of My HeadGwendolyn Cease - Erotic Romance Author
gwendolyncease@twc.comGwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.comBlogger230125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-8966934896696136322018-03-21T09:00:00.000-04:002018-03-21T09:00:00.487-04:00NAME ONE THING YOU'VE LIED TO YOURSELF ABOUT<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8fLQoMhLs14O2uQ7KT_8ZkZuXmDOBj0zJ6j_ZASK0nwYBIt_4EYViqLuvqZ57Jk8jtEjebkAQNwhDfRqRNHqBH8X08UJVS1NHB5OR-DvVbhyphenhyphenYbht8aifEC7h7us78hmV6jKPb9NBqIXQ/s1600/beware20lies20sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8fLQoMhLs14O2uQ7KT_8ZkZuXmDOBj0zJ6j_ZASK0nwYBIt_4EYViqLuvqZ57Jk8jtEjebkAQNwhDfRqRNHqBH8X08UJVS1NHB5OR-DvVbhyphenhyphenYbht8aifEC7h7us78hmV6jKPb9NBqIXQ/s400/beware20lies20sign.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I've started and restarted this post over and over since, to me, the subject is really deep and intense. So, the question is to name one thing I've lied to myself about and why. Okay, here goes . . . oh and before I do let me say</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was sexually molested when I was a child. I don't have an exact age. I always say six, seven, or eight since I'm not sure. I know I was little and I know who it was - a cousin who is five or six years older than me. Once the abuse stopped, I "forgot." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Not really. Let's just say my mind tucked it away. I refused to recognize it for what it was. Any time an image of the abuse would flash in my mind, I'd unconsciously push it away. Nope, that's nothing. Nothing to see here. Move along.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Over time, I became an expert at the lie. If the image floated up, I'd make it disappear almost instantly. I never questioned all the billions of issues that I had. In fact, I never gave any of it, especially the PTSD, a thought. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The longer I lied to myself, the easier the lie became. Until, a doctor presented me with the evidence. She said the much hated words - sexual abuse. My mind was saying, "Oh no, you must be wrong." My mouth was saying something totally different, "My mother doesn't even know."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I panicked. An out and out panic attack. I ran away. Oh, after I screamed at the doctor the above sentence a couple of times. I'm sure I scarred her since she was a brand new doctor. Poor thing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Once this happened, I couldn't lie to myself anymore. I had to look at the memories and recognize what they were. What happened. Who it was. How it affected me. Then I had to deal with it all. Which took for freaking ever. Between the abuse, PTSD, and the clinical depression my 20s and early 30s sucked major donkey balls. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Things are certainly better now. I still have the depression, which can get bad, but for the most part the other stuff has . . . subsided. It's not gone. It'll never be gone, but it doesn't take over my life either. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://wp.me/p9Bg1M-5Pb" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a> <a href="https://www.siobhanmuir.com/siobhans-blog/lying-to-yourself" target="_blank">Siobhan</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-27589212500288523272018-03-19T09:00:00.001-04:002018-03-19T09:00:08.022-04:00SONG FLASH MARCH 2018<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw88CzXIQzHfvBKkh8OrI1H6v2ZQscsu0W4K6xhpBLXGP4GBaNJr3b5XesvlJjKI-I1pfbiOzfFwaPYIWlfeu_hhDi6GocEexXl_CpA8jrMSwBPxKgKO29v_BsfVayaI7Rv5MkKfgK-OE/s1600/FlashFicSONG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="232" data-original-width="450" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw88CzXIQzHfvBKkh8OrI1H6v2ZQscsu0W4K6xhpBLXGP4GBaNJr3b5XesvlJjKI-I1pfbiOzfFwaPYIWlfeu_hhDi6GocEexXl_CpA8jrMSwBPxKgKO29v_BsfVayaI7Rv5MkKfgK-OE/s400/FlashFicSONG.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The song this month was one I had never heard of by a group I hadn't heard of either. As soon as I heard it, I liked it. A lot. It immediately brought a scene to mind starring a character from my November flash fiction, Raisa and her dragon troubles. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The song is called Patsheeva by a group called Circa Paleo</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">If you want you can take a listen <a href="https://circapaleo.bandcamp.com/track/patsheeva" target="_blank">here</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Raisa moved
through the tunnels of the cave, barely aware of her surroundings. She crawled
when she needed to crawl and climbed when required. She was on the scent. The
Guild wasn’t, at one point, known as thieves for nothing. Of course, most Guild
members didn’t go out with the idea of stealing from a dragon. Or, if they did,
they didn’t last long. Here she was though, stealing from a dragon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Perhaps,
there really wasn’t a dragon. Maybe all the stories were just that, stories.
Dragons weren’t seen much anymore. They kept to themselves and were normally found
deep, deep in mountain ranges. This cave really wasn’t that far from the city.
Not really. It had taken her about four hours to drive and another hour to hike
to the entrance. For a dragon, that wasn’t much. And, no matter what she tried
to tell herself, a dragon was here. Somewhere. Her senses told her. Led her ever
closer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Raisa inched
her way along a thin ledge and cursed her brother and her own stupidity for
ending up in this situation. The Semenov’s had obviously used her brother to
get to her. Of course, it didn’t take much since Georgi was a complete and
utter idiot who imagined himself as a big player in the city. He wasn’t. He was
a pawn and now so was she. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> She should
have ignored the Semenov’s offer to meet with her. Her senses told her to
ignore it, but instead she went hoping to talk them into a solution that didn’t
have her stealing from a dragon. They not only didn’t want to talk, but they
stamped their seal on her. A seal she was to understand that never came off.
She was, in effect, their property. Forever. This was what they wanted all
along. They didn’t care about Georgi, but about her. Her skills. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> The research
in the Guild archives would hopefully pay off. The only thing that could cancel
out the family seal of a Wyrm was a dragon. She hoped like hell she could
figure out how to convince the dragon to do whatever needed to be done. And,
this whole asinine plan depended on her ability to discuss the situation with a
being who wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about her problems. Well, if the dragon ate
her, it would solve the seal issue once and for all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Raisa felt
the heat first. Not unpleasant, in fact, it felt good after the chill of the
cave. Her stomach in knots, she moved forward carefully. She was close, her senses
screamed at her wanting her to run, but she refused. She had to get this done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Next, came
the light. Not like from the sun, but as if from fire. A warm fire on a cold
winter’s night. Yep, just keep that thought in your head, Raisa told herself.
Comfort, warm, friendly. She almost laughed. Nothing, not even strong drink,
was going to convince herself she was heading to a warm, snuggly fire. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Taking a
deep breath, she moved out of the tight corridor into a massive cavern. Or, at
least, she assumed it was massive. She couldn’t look around and investigate her
surroundings since her gaze was pinned on the enormous dragon. The enormous
dragon who lay curled up on his hoard. The enormous dragon who lay curled up on
his hoard watching her with beautiful sea green eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Well, well,
well,” the deep male voice came from nowhere and everywhere at once. “What do
we have here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Raisa gulped
back a scream. She couldn’t imagine that would impress him over much. Her
screaming and flailing around like a Muppet wouldn’t make a great first
impression. No sudden moves, she told herself, and bowed low before him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “So, thief,
why don’t you tell me why you’re here before I eat you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Raisa stepped
forward to bargain with a dragon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://wp.me/p9Bg1M-5P3" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a> <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/march-song-fic-patsheeva-by-circa-paleo/" target="_blank">Jessica</a></span></div>
Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-52914551815528845102018-03-14T09:00:00.000-04:002018-03-14T19:26:10.831-04:00MARCH PROMPTLY PENNED<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5PUlOpL206r0xaQ3YiLoYk7olR04uEKEggKtWHQyWnxBMinw3eA2KT-KtjgjykOuUrGyyU2x4uz2gZofC7ypreZdzILhvrg-cLVk4s8a2T2FRAdpEJwP58yF2btOFsL2xKICKSNRmEDc/s1600/PromptlyPenned.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="450" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5PUlOpL206r0xaQ3YiLoYk7olR04uEKEggKtWHQyWnxBMinw3eA2KT-KtjgjykOuUrGyyU2x4uz2gZofC7ypreZdzILhvrg-cLVk4s8a2T2FRAdpEJwP58yF2btOFsL2xKICKSNRmEDc/s400/PromptlyPenned.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This month the prompt consists of the line: "It's okay. You don't have to love me." I wasn't really sure what to do with it, but I finally came up with an idea. It's not very long, but I hope you like it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Then he
said, ‘It’s okay. You don’t have to love me.’ My first thought was, you’re damn
straight, there, buck wheat.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Dana burst
out laughing, almost shooting Pepsi out her nose. “You didn’t say that, did
you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Her best
friend, Gina, rolled her eyes. “No, of course not. I said, ‘That’s good,
because I don’t.’”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Well, yeah,
you’ve only been dating…what? Two weeks?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “If that, so
I am definitely not in love with him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Dana shook
her head. “So, he thinks he’s in love with you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Hell no,”
Gina said, “he just wants in my pants. Because after he delivered his line
worthy of a B-grade film he said, ‘Just let me love you.’ Then he grabbed one
of my tits.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Dana really
tried not to laugh, she really did, but just couldn’t help it. Her best friend
ended up in the most bizarre situations with the most bizarre men. There’d been
the guy who claimed he was an actor, which he wasn’t. He was an usher at the
theatre. Another guy said he was an award-winning song writer and told Gina he’d
written songs like Ed Sheeran’s Shape of You, but that the singer had stolen
it. And, on and on. Dana really couldn’t remember the last normal guy Gina had
dated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “And then
what happened?” Dana couldn’t stop herself from asking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Oh, he
dropped his pants and revealed he wasn’t wearing underwear. What he did have
was a tattoo that said love machine right above his dick.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “You can’t
make this shit up.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Gina smiled.
“Oh, hell no, I don’t have this good of an imagination.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “So, what
did you do?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “I slapped
his hand off my tit, grabbed my purse and left. He tried to run after me, but,
instead, tripped over his pants and fell out into the main hall of his
apartment building. The elderly lady who lives across the hall came out then
and screamed since he was naked. I didn’t stay around to find out what happened
then.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “I’m so
sorry, but this stuff only happens to you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “I know and
this is why I’m taking a break from dating. Hopefully, if I give it a few
months the weirdos will have all found other people and I can find somebody, at
least, half way normal.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Okay, that’s
not what I expected to hear. You once told me that if you didn’t have a date
for the weekend you’d shrivel up and waste away.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Obviously,
I’m stupid. And, if I would waste away it’d be preferable to the men I’ve been
seeing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Dana shook
her head. “That’s just it. You’re not dating men, you’re dating boys. Maybe you
need to start looking somewhere other than the bars and clubs for guys to date.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Gina smiled.
“You’re brilliant. I’ll join an online dating site.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Jumping up,
she raced out of the room before Dana had a chance to respond. Sitting back in
her chair, she knew, without a doubt, there were more weirdos in Gina’s future.
With the internet, the pool was going to be wider and deeper. Dana didn’t know
whether to be afraid or excited at the prospect of even more entertainment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.bronwyngreen.com/promptly-penned-%E2%80%A6-say-you-love-me/" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a> <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/wednesday-randomness-promptly-penned-26/" target="_blank">Jessica</a> <a href="http://www.bronwyngreen.com/promptly-penned-you-dont-have-to-say-you-love-me/" target="_blank">Kris</a> <a href="https://www.siobhanmuir.com/siobhans-blog/promptly-penned-love-undercover" target="_blank">Siobhan</a> <a href="http://authorpaigeprince.com/?p=1775" target="_blank">Paige</a></span></div>
Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-57444744001952941872018-03-07T09:00:00.000-05:002018-03-07T09:00:05.910-05:00MARCH WORDLESS WEDNESDAY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq05BssHaTJ8zQlc_LIsBcaJILino4dux3DRJrnpC6k-f2QjNoxNGOitc7DzQBTo1wA7A8PWnXIOpkbewq-mQ54ERPjrBBfIofiHYrYyBw_Seav5NvPUtLeCx3beqBJ0Fc9h3jRXMpgqI/s1600/WordlessWed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq05BssHaTJ8zQlc_LIsBcaJILino4dux3DRJrnpC6k-f2QjNoxNGOitc7DzQBTo1wA7A8PWnXIOpkbewq-mQ54ERPjrBBfIofiHYrYyBw_Seav5NvPUtLeCx3beqBJ0Fc9h3jRXMpgqI/s400/WordlessWed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Welcome to the wordlessness that is Wednesday. This year we get to share whatever pics we want for each wordless post. First, I'm never wordless no matter what and second, it's going to be so hard. I have tons of pics to share. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I think, though, for March's wordless I'll share pics from my trip to Charlotte. If you've never been, the city is so nice and I love the Daniel Stowe Botanical Gardens. I hope you enjoy them.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.bronwyngreen.com/wordless-wednesday-march/" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a> <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/wednesday-randomness-wordless-wednesday-2/" target="_blank">Jessica</a> <a href="https://www.siobhanmuir.com/siobhans-blog/wordless-wednesday-oddities" target="_blank">Siobhan</a> </span></div>
Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-78198182224725433392018-03-05T09:00:00.000-05:002018-03-05T09:00:45.004-05:00MARCH PHOTO FLASH FICTION<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">This month we are all creating a piece around the picture above. So many thoughts, so many ideas Hopefully, you'll like what I did.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Shattered
glass. The screams of men. The scent of blood and burning rubber. He couldn’t
move. He couldn’t scream. Blood choked him as he attempted to gasp in a breath.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Gabriel
jerked himself awake and frantically searched the room. Dream. It had been a
dream. Pain shot through his left knee, it was a dream now. What he dreamed was
real or had been real. Fuck, he wasn’t sure anymore. He scrubbed a shaky hand
over his sweaty face and tried to slow his breathing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Eight
months. He’d been stateside for eight months. And, for almost every night of those
eight months, he had the same dream. The same memory. Roadside IED punching a
hole through his transport. Blood, screaming, bodies. He’d been one of the
lucky ones. He’d lived. He had all his fingers and toes, if not his sanity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> Rising, he
limped to the bathroom and turned on the shower. He needed to wash away the
sweat and the lingering unease the dream always brought on. He braced his hands
on the wall and let the hot water pour down over his body. Slowly, his muscles
unknotted and, though, he was more relaxed, he knew he wouldn’t go back to
sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> He turned
the water off and grabbed a towel. The clock on the wall read five-thirty. He
didn’t have PT until almost ten and he certainly didn’t want to hang around the
apartment. If anyone could call the tiny four hundred square foot space by
anything so grand. It was a box, he knew that, but he hadn’t been looking for
much. All he’d been focused on was finding a place to sleep and store some of
his stuff. That was it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> His cousin,
Callan, had offered to let him crash at his place, but there was no way. The
man’s bed was a revolving door and Gabriel didn’t want to stay in someplace he
didn’t feel was secure. So, he’d taken the first place he looked at. It wasn’t
much, but it certainly beat most of his past accommodations. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> After he
dressed, he grabbed up his laptop bag and slowly made his way out of the
building. Turning right, he moved down the sidewalk. He was aware of everything
and everyone around him as he made his way to the coffee bar that was becoming
his second home. The place opened at six and, more often than not, Gabriel was
in his regular seat with a drink by six-ten. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> He stepped
in the door and paused to quickly survey the space. The only person in the
entire space, was the lady behind the counter. She looked up and smiled at him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Good
morning,” she called.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “Morning.”
He stepped up to the counter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “So, what
can I get you this morning? Are you sticking with what you normally order or
are you going to branch out?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “I’ll stick
with the regular.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> She poured
plain black coffee into a cup and handed it to him. He paid her and moved to
the table he always occupied. It was situated in the corner with a wide-open
view of the entire place. He pulled out his laptop and booted it up. While he
waited, he sipped from his cup. He didn’t know what she did, but her coffee was
damn good. That’s why he came every day, well that and the fact that, he didn’t
make her nervous. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> He knew he
made people nervous, between his size and the fact that he wasn’t much of a
people person, okay, he wasn’t a people person period. He’d had his fill of
people so didn’t feel the need to socialize. Claire, though, didn’t seem to
mind. He knew that was her name since she owned the coffee bar and the place
was called Coffee by Claire. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> So
different. His life was nothing as it had been. Wouldn’t be again. And IED and
shattered glass made sure of that. Gabriel glanced up as Claire slid a warm
cinnamon muffin on his table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “I didn’t
order this.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> “I know,”
she said, with a smile. “I figured my most loyal customer deserved a muffin.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"> She moved
away, her long tail of blonde hair a stream down her back. He picked up the
muffin and bit into cinnamon, butter, and warmth. His life may be totally
different than what he’d planned, but he’d take it and figure it out. It
certainly beat the alternative.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.bronwyngreen.com/flash-fiction-77-broken-glass/" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a> <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/march-2018-photo-flash-fiction/" target="_blank">Jessica</a> <a href="http://krisnorris.ca/flash-fiction-blue-abstract/" target="_blank">Kris</a></span></div>
Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-55387713750779673582018-02-28T09:00:00.000-05:002018-02-28T09:00:06.471-05:00TOP 10 FAVORITE DISNEY MOVIES!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4M742M1PsGvbZBQ1Ez356KQ5-MbJf3QUqDdXpf5UPJ7VuStBVRRlynVR_efM1DN21yXY_JT3Pi2dKQ6SIMWG63MuhEjdljaWa32HUTfK3Hz-S2tL0J2e1lEwDpwWBMm7fQTnvfVyDKKE/s1600/02-Top+10_+Disney+Movies.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="560" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4M742M1PsGvbZBQ1Ez356KQ5-MbJf3QUqDdXpf5UPJ7VuStBVRRlynVR_efM1DN21yXY_JT3Pi2dKQ6SIMWG63MuhEjdljaWa32HUTfK3Hz-S2tL0J2e1lEwDpwWBMm7fQTnvfVyDKKE/s400/02-Top+10_+Disney+Movies.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I love this month's Top 10, because I love Disney! Everything Disney! Disney movies, Disney shows, Walt Disney World, Disney clothes . . . are you sensing a pattern. The only downside is I only get to chose 10. So, the ones I show are the movies that immediately come to mind. This in no way gives all my favorite Disney movies.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Okay, so these are my top 10 Disney movies. The only one that's in order is the #1 spot, which is:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">1. Beauty and the Beast</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-5yfeGyzW7OoUiLarmveXPkJ1v7Lu61xiFED_bE9L3Oy9COSQJhvje9WQ1YhN0GIpGX2VeQueApKmaioxG0ynqzqqIJ8Tlza66G6j6RyV6qKXyjPhcSnc-6ubl9NaGLvf7V5WiiKoxy0/s1600/ipsrwwhh4xunhlm5iexe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="389" data-original-width="800" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-5yfeGyzW7OoUiLarmveXPkJ1v7Lu61xiFED_bE9L3Oy9COSQJhvje9WQ1YhN0GIpGX2VeQueApKmaioxG0ynqzqqIJ8Tlza66G6j6RyV6qKXyjPhcSnc-6ubl9NaGLvf7V5WiiKoxy0/s320/ipsrwwhh4xunhlm5iexe.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I've always loved this story and once Disney came out with this version, yep my favorite.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">2. Robin Hood</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhydZCz7_v1Ja7PhE5G_-Kx07vym2MlZKnCvtoCiii8Z0X06pnbxni0aDNolm3jVzSPreUGt7Lbpo_I1_-gY7mP1gjSTcRqDyoBURNbDK3nBrAyupjOZeICdVm4c6zBwJ1e6jQR0Q8SWTU/s1600/RobinHoodCover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="386" data-original-width="350" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhydZCz7_v1Ja7PhE5G_-Kx07vym2MlZKnCvtoCiii8Z0X06pnbxni0aDNolm3jVzSPreUGt7Lbpo_I1_-gY7mP1gjSTcRqDyoBURNbDK3nBrAyupjOZeICdVm4c6zBwJ1e6jQR0Q8SWTU/s320/RobinHoodCover.jpg" width="290" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">The music is great and the story just makes me laugh. Fun Fact: Robin Hood was my sister's very first crush.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. The Aristocats</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">4. 101 Dalmations</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv4ajZaJUQLQ-VFcgoalbCOLZ7tqm3m4hHkhzqTZjvemcGkp1tj_UMSrJbN1fwuriGwfJfTojmmjmUbBCots_bZSrINSNljIO5R06cl4iohf0bpww4WqhC5Xx3OSAcAcTTvREdRbE5CoQ/s1600/la-la-ca-0122-101-dalmatians-114-jpg-20150128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="366" data-original-width="650" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv4ajZaJUQLQ-VFcgoalbCOLZ7tqm3m4hHkhzqTZjvemcGkp1tj_UMSrJbN1fwuriGwfJfTojmmjmUbBCots_bZSrINSNljIO5R06cl4iohf0bpww4WqhC5Xx3OSAcAcTTvREdRbE5CoQ/s320/la-la-ca-0122-101-dalmatians-114-jpg-20150128.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">5. Jungle Book</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ce5t6S6vsCpb8THMOjWlroYmiv31v3GCtZrpNoHKw-2NzgdshRGbo60IBL5B3J0U-hP81oVjJ-MOM_HLGitcPqoeWoIqYOitwbPeBNC3EktG5f29ygfy-ttw8i51HAnVewmOJh2_u2U/s1600/09-jungle-book.w529.h529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="529" data-original-width="529" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ce5t6S6vsCpb8THMOjWlroYmiv31v3GCtZrpNoHKw-2NzgdshRGbo60IBL5B3J0U-hP81oVjJ-MOM_HLGitcPqoeWoIqYOitwbPeBNC3EktG5f29ygfy-ttw8i51HAnVewmOJh2_u2U/s320/09-jungle-book.w529.h529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I love this movie and it was the one my dad took us to see. Not mom, but dad, so that was a big deal.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">6. Bedknobs and Brooksticks</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9QNQ55N25-4JbRLgNPQ0Pb6Ld3q0oePvPaSph9Mh5bR1gZatskGaLGRCm-dZQsq2wI4UjXORds-6V47RetPCjygIad8DcA7VE1yz5tRTF7GPVyWraWGlZjSB_X-4Y1NyA4ofP2AQBYiU/s1600/kevin-smith-wants-to-remake-disneys-bedknobs-and-broomsticks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="422" data-original-width="750" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9QNQ55N25-4JbRLgNPQ0Pb6Ld3q0oePvPaSph9Mh5bR1gZatskGaLGRCm-dZQsq2wI4UjXORds-6V47RetPCjygIad8DcA7VE1yz5tRTF7GPVyWraWGlZjSB_X-4Y1NyA4ofP2AQBYiU/s320/kevin-smith-wants-to-remake-disneys-bedknobs-and-broomsticks.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">7. Sleeping Beauty</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvU6ZV3B1O7Es5tg0ctUTV94AroM-Qp7yS3IoRFn8v9MY-wTNxMGetYH2MDkfnquVY0drG-ZWxQdnfe0aSk9wvrJf27SQSmRt8MgXOR2j8E0qyjs3NFypVlvT2HZSpJh6r8hrB5kz5D8Y/s1600/sleeping-beauty-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="627" data-original-width="1600" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvU6ZV3B1O7Es5tg0ctUTV94AroM-Qp7yS3IoRFn8v9MY-wTNxMGetYH2MDkfnquVY0drG-ZWxQdnfe0aSk9wvrJf27SQSmRt8MgXOR2j8E0qyjs3NFypVlvT2HZSpJh6r8hrB5kz5D8Y/s320/sleeping-beauty-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I love the story, but I love Maleficent even more.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">8. Mary Poppins</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">9. Hocus Pocus</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX3AityWY8skvrcCdSshTluPEzSRe4sbJhvr2kVOUoVtV0Xsh0v3IXEn5YF-_3jj4j2Ni__TQr_DkAlxM4KDIk01m4D45_9Vx6bCyMfz4Nq9rerBH28GysfpgIQChpOROkyJ-GmHQeW04/s1600/Hocus_pocus_cast_44830l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="523" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX3AityWY8skvrcCdSshTluPEzSRe4sbJhvr2kVOUoVtV0Xsh0v3IXEn5YF-_3jj4j2Ni__TQr_DkAlxM4KDIk01m4D45_9Vx6bCyMfz4Nq9rerBH28GysfpgIQChpOROkyJ-GmHQeW04/s320/Hocus_pocus_cast_44830l.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">10. The Santa Clause</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAsR_eJ9g8wbjK9Hghx6gMyIXkSJyvRcouKu8wK7VBTwb3fUJyivJC8QSPjjvxZ-yKdBDVwr-CoVxDf7pKDW0A2YtUX9Nk8hpbvpZFNWLJgu4Jba-FYWStiEQw_JOCF4Q2kkYiyR6d7YE/s1600/sleigh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="659" data-original-width="1000" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAsR_eJ9g8wbjK9Hghx6gMyIXkSJyvRcouKu8wK7VBTwb3fUJyivJC8QSPjjvxZ-yKdBDVwr-CoVxDf7pKDW0A2YtUX9Nk8hpbvpZFNWLJgu4Jba-FYWStiEQw_JOCF4Q2kkYiyR6d7YE/s320/sleigh.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Well that stinks, since I've reached 10 and haven't really finished. I never got to mention The Lion King, That Darn Cat (original), Mulan, Tarzan, The Incredibles, Zootopia . . . yeah the list could just go on and on.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, go and check out if <a href="http://www.bronwyngreen.com/top-10-disney-movies/" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a>, <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/wednesday-randomness-top-10-disney-movies/" target="_blank">Jessica</a>, <a href="http://krisnorris.ca/top-10-disney-movies/" target="_blank">Kris</a> or <a href="https://www.siobhanmuir.com/siobhans-blog/top-ten-disney-movies" target="_blank">Siobhan</a> managed to stick to just 10 movies</span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-75342285998082507012018-02-21T09:00:00.000-05:002018-02-21T09:00:39.213-05:00THE PERFECT LAZY DAY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh98ZpXzUXFRF2BFR8KBCsJowWtSLItG3tirmoX9AZx7PQBw4h368zIMNQs32JTHy5YHnith25EUsl_k9DQWIZNabbk20c9i-Zq66rU1TsD-96gS7ktgo9q8XpYApBiAj7qO3VH2C3viPk/s1600/Your-Perfect-Fantasy-Beach-House-Cotton-House-2-Barbados.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh98ZpXzUXFRF2BFR8KBCsJowWtSLItG3tirmoX9AZx7PQBw4h368zIMNQs32JTHy5YHnith25EUsl_k9DQWIZNabbk20c9i-Zq66rU1TsD-96gS7ktgo9q8XpYApBiAj7qO3VH2C3viPk/s400/Your-Perfect-Fantasy-Beach-House-Cotton-House-2-Barbados.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And, there you go, that's my perfect lazy day. Snoozing in my hammock, by the ocean, as I sip lovely tropical drinks. As I gaze toward the ocean, my man comes out of the ocean to join me.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuKE60fgUPYf9AR77Xg3kgiwJWwZkFKvpoimUhi2kX6bq-vLl9080KOX4VknXywgBP29Knb6t6v21IC0xeF-zU0DdWZONy8dELgiFi0Of1P6vmbVVJ2sN_QzzJGM7tlgHQEqhhyF0gLI4/s1600/22687547_1494844873935822_8649260817000509989_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="589" data-original-width="591" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuKE60fgUPYf9AR77Xg3kgiwJWwZkFKvpoimUhi2kX6bq-vLl9080KOX4VknXywgBP29Knb6t6v21IC0xeF-zU0DdWZONy8dELgiFi0Of1P6vmbVVJ2sN_QzzJGM7tlgHQEqhhyF0gLI4/s320/22687547_1494844873935822_8649260817000509989_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Aaaand scene.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">In the real world, my perfect lazy day wouldn't be nearly as perfect. If I can swing it, Sunday is my lazy do nothing day. If I don't have to do anything then if it rains that makes it so much better. I love the sound of rain. It's so soothing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The perfection would start with my incredible sister making breakfast, which she does quite often. We have hash browns, eggs, bacon and biscuits in reality and in the perfect. Oh and tea, we always have a pot of tea.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">After breakfast, I might read for a bit, then I "meditate" which is code for take a nap. I might goof off on my computer for a bit, read for a bit more. We might watch something on TV or we could just sit together and read. Yes, we do this. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We put together something for dinner then I'd take a shower and curl up in bed to read until I get sleepy and turn out the light. That to me is perfection. Okay, really the beach with Jason Momoa is perfection, but beggars can't be choosers. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Check out what <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/wednesday-randomness-the-perfect-lazy-day/" target="_blank">Jessica</a>, <a href="http://www.bronwyngreen.com/the-perfect-lazy-day/" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a>, <a href="http://krisnorris.ca/wednesday-randomness-the-perfect-lazy-day" target="_blank">Kris</a>, <a href="http://www.dieromantic.com/perfect-lazy-day/" target="_blank">Torrance</a>, and <a href="https://jessicadelarosa.wordpress.com/2018/02/21/random-wednesday-the-perfect-lazy-day" target="_blank">Jessica D</a> think is the perfect day.</span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-23589464186470688752018-02-14T09:00:00.000-05:002018-02-14T09:00:00.362-05:00FEBRUARY PROMPTLY PENNED<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_hvo1WNvMPiKPgyLJ4VNtVdMWG4szFItGuIWBtSQk4An0HxjUh9pgxLZPyNV5I81YROl4bpqzZmxCTv5tPUvsInVupidtlLQERGbkxV9DNiulN-UGw9FKs7uJzZjPXEPSh59zyPcNkOE/s1600/PromptlyPenned.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="450" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_hvo1WNvMPiKPgyLJ4VNtVdMWG4szFItGuIWBtSQk4An0HxjUh9pgxLZPyNV5I81YROl4bpqzZmxCTv5tPUvsInVupidtlLQERGbkxV9DNiulN-UGw9FKs7uJzZjPXEPSh59zyPcNkOE/s400/PromptlyPenned.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Welcome to the Random Wednesday Blog's Promptly Penned segment. If you've never been here before, it's where Bronwyn and Jessica toss out a prompt and we have to come up with a story around it. This month the prompt is: "Her/His life changed when s/he learned the monsters were protecting her/him."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Here is my contribution: </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Sebastian
sat on the porch of his grandmother’s home and stared into the woods. He’d
spent every summer with her as far back as he could remember. As soon as school
let out, his parents would drop him off with his gran and they’d go. He really
didn’t care where, since he loved his gran and loved her home even more. Or,
not just her home, but the forest that surrounded it. As a child, he’d spent
hours running and playing and exploring. He hadn’t thought it odd, that at six she’d
let him go into the woods. She never worried for him. She knew, and he knew,
nothing would ever hurt him there. Though he couldn’t remember why or even what
he’d spent all that time doing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The wind
pushed clouds across the sky, causing shadows to race and frolic across the
ground. Shadows. The first time he’d been aware of the shadows he’d been maybe
twelve. Could be they’d always been there, but he just hadn’t seen or noticed. Didn’t
matter since the shadows had saved his life. He’d ran across the street to head
home and a car had come out of nowhere. At least, that’s what the neighbor had
said. All Sebastian remembered was glimpsing the car and ending up in his own
front yard. He hadn’t been hurt. He hadn’t remembered moving, but, somehow, he’d
gotten out of the street without a scratch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The neighbor
had termed it a miracle, but the police had put it down to liquor since Mr.
Webster was known to drink in the afternoon. Didn’t matter though since
Sebastian had walked away unharmed. He’d seen them again off and on. And,
anytime he had seen them, he knew he was protected. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The last
time he’d seen the shadows he hadn’t come out unscathed, but he wasn’t dead. He
should have been dead. No doubt about it. His unit had taken heavy enemy fire
and he’d run out to grab one of his guys and drag him to safety. There’d been
some kind of explosion and he knew he was in the kill zone. Instead, a shadow
had come from nowhere and deflected part of the blast.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He’d still
been injured. Injured enough that a medical discharge was forced on him, but he
wasn’t dead and neither was the guy he’d gone to save. So, now he sat and
stared at the woods. Hell, he wasn’t sure how many days his vigil had gone on.
All he knew was he waited. He supposed he’d been waiting since he was twelve,
since his life had changed when he’d learned that monsters were protecting him.
Monsters. Yeah, that’s what he’d called the shadows as a child. He hadn’t been
afraid, though, not of the woods and not of the monsters.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">As the sun,
sunk below the horizon, he ran his hands over his face. Fuck, maybe he <i>was</i> losing his mind. Every evening he
planned to leave the next day, but when morning came he found himself sitting
on the porch…waiting. He couldn’t keep this up. He had to go back and try to
pick up his life. What there was of it anyway. He had job interviews lined up
and he needed to find an apartment. He would leave in the morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He stood to
go into the house and found he wasn’t alone. A young girl sat curled up on the
porch swing watching him. Long, heavy dark hair with high sharp cheekbones, and
luminous blue eyes—he knew her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Rhiannon,”
he said, his voice low and harsh from disuse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She smiled
and his heart gave an odd kick. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Sebastian,
you remembered.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He sank back
into his chair and stared at her. “How could I not? We practically spent every
summer together.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She nodded. “Yes,
until you no longer came.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“My parents
forced me to go to boarding school. They decided that staying with my
grandmother all summer wasn’t healthy for me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I missed
you. I waited, but you ever came.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m sorry.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">And he was
too. Rhiannon had been his best friend. They’d run through the woods together
exploring. How had he forgotten her? And why did she look the same? Exactly the
same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Are you
real?” he forced himself to ask. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She cocked
her head and held a hand out. “Come, take my hand and sit next to me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Not hesitating,
he went to her and grasped her small, soft hand in his much larger one. Warm.
She was warm and real. And smelled of flowers and growing things. He sank onto
the swing next to her, but still held her hand. Her hand felt right in his. He twined
their fingers together and studied her. She wasn’t a young girl, no matter her
outward appearance. The knowledge settled around him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“The
shadows. Are they from you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“The <i>Far</i>
<i>Dorocha</i> are mine. You were grievously injured.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yeah, but I
didn’t die. I should have died.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She pressed
her fingers to his lips. “Never say that. We made promises to one another. I
promised to keep you safe.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“And I
promised to always be your friend. No, not your friend. I promised to always
love you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The longer
they sat together the more Sebastian remembered their summers. Even as a young
boy, he’d loved her. They were halves of a whole. That’s right, that’s what his
gran had said when he spoke to her of Rhiannon. Halves of a whole.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“And, do
you?” she asked, softly. “Love me? Or, could you love me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Leaning forward,
he pressed his lips gently to her own. Soft and sweet, her lips were so soft
and sweet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I think I
could. Yes, I think so.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Cupping his
face in her hands, she rubbed her nose against his. “Then, will you stay here so
we can learn about one another?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yes,” he
replied, as he planned on calling and cancelling his job interviews in the
morning. Because, he wasn’t leaving this place and this woman again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Go check out the pieces by <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/wednesday-randomness-promptly-penned-25/" target="_blank">Jessica</a>, <a href="http://www.bronwyngreen.com/promptly-penned-monsters/" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a>, <a href="http://krisnorris.ca/promptly-penned-february-monsters/" target="_blank">Kris</a>, and <a href="https://www.siobhanmuir.com/siobhans-blog/promptly-penned-monsters" target="_blank">Siobhan</a>.</span><br />
Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-29909900989748454602018-02-07T09:00:00.000-05:002018-02-07T09:00:33.895-05:00BEST & WORST: WRITING PROCESS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcf-YHWm-6OcJfFU0064nOKWGNrGI3XHLGndkW2fbK7nGek2c2b9HHI7b7aIcKOy3SQHt__ixJ42YmPv5-tkqc8c6bDFxsykdJ2mXxA5XVDOCjlt0VU-Ch0q7savSHc1wYlke4xgjSYMM/s1600/Best+%2526+Worst.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="560" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcf-YHWm-6OcJfFU0064nOKWGNrGI3XHLGndkW2fbK7nGek2c2b9HHI7b7aIcKOy3SQHt__ixJ42YmPv5-tkqc8c6bDFxsykdJ2mXxA5XVDOCjlt0VU-Ch0q7savSHc1wYlke4xgjSYMM/s400/Best+%2526+Worst.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Welcome to Wednesday! Or, even better, Happy Gwensday! And, we have a new feature for the Random Wednesday post, which, I think, is going to be an ongoing thing. Okay, just checked our list and yep it is. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This first post is about what works and what doesn't in the writing process for each of us. Huh, I supposed if I actually wrote every day . . . </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">ANYWAY, so let me start with what doesn't work for me. Plotting everything out on paper. That so doesn't work at all. I've tried believe me and all it does is make me:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnnPOtogdD9Gc1seGWMyOOEQo83d-qIRdxu9zVnn21azQQyc4RLw4NLMidLoYS3JCD33gBza6_OzDGW1Wogak1lqDwegXu_zK6ze1CJMQWZxa_zAPxbNrMp4bIYJhkbMz9kIWTohqXkxo/s1600/tenor.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="308" data-original-width="396" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnnPOtogdD9Gc1seGWMyOOEQo83d-qIRdxu9zVnn21azQQyc4RLw4NLMidLoYS3JCD33gBza6_OzDGW1Wogak1lqDwegXu_zK6ze1CJMQWZxa_zAPxbNrMp4bIYJhkbMz9kIWTohqXkxo/s320/tenor.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">This started all the way back in high school for me. The teacher would ask us to turn in the idea we had for a paper, then a rough outline, final outline, rough draft of the paper, final draft. Yeah, I had to write the paper once I got approval for the topic so I could do everything else. I am a total by the seat of my pants girl or pantser for short.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoN7C0OqsTageJelBwMmFz64Zs8rtbhI6mNuaSR3TTpZBHigP-6ch8iWFRyJcbh3UUMDwM8wn14UO7mtauVQt53DdHok7DKV74YV2XxJtAVYxmwFt3LhDl0DLagzN9dxVXdb8jVoUB6qY/s1600/DecCartoon2.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="405" data-original-width="522" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoN7C0OqsTageJelBwMmFz64Zs8rtbhI6mNuaSR3TTpZBHigP-6ch8iWFRyJcbh3UUMDwM8wn14UO7mtauVQt53DdHok7DKV74YV2XxJtAVYxmwFt3LhDl0DLagzN9dxVXdb8jVoUB6qY/s320/DecCartoon2.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">This doesn't mean I don't know where the story is going. I totally do. I always know how it ends. It's just that the journey may change as I go. The characters may do something unexpected and I want to be able to follow where they lead instead of forcing them to stay on the trail I've hacked out. Sometimes it's more fun and it certainly makes the book better for it if I wander into the wilderness and make a new trail.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVkpkkjdi9_0JldctSXlTvP46iZEdgoRQo5E_kk11pcnBnt60v10GJPG56dFI3sqiz43K9wV16PtEejBKRGWup7g2UWjte9ZRaDFSfDJZNgDeKQ8fdC7eag4OHEw3qSiV0Ye_-A_LArc/s1600/img_6692.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNVkpkkjdi9_0JldctSXlTvP46iZEdgoRQo5E_kk11pcnBnt60v10GJPG56dFI3sqiz43K9wV16PtEejBKRGWup7g2UWjte9ZRaDFSfDJZNgDeKQ8fdC7eag4OHEw3qSiV0Ye_-A_LArc/s320/img_6692.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">What works for me is editing as I go. Okay, I don't work on the first chapter for a million years and then only have 1 great chapter. Yeah, that doesn't finish a book. Ever. I'll write about 35-40k, then go back to the beginning to make sure it flows, there are no plot holes, see if I want to add anything, delete anything, etc. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWdqQN8-q5iIQcNY284xIDWXnNjT4aKBSuoV6cHLqaWCnFQt5kgOf8xd7_gR8A5XgcAtRCjptPowgOjyMHV5YSpnyttHeyCQ_PG8FP2WEtaYb_9zLDdPTziAnnfQq1zWTCKBNACnO7L0A/s1600/Pc2Qy5t.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="258" data-original-width="460" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWdqQN8-q5iIQcNY284xIDWXnNjT4aKBSuoV6cHLqaWCnFQt5kgOf8xd7_gR8A5XgcAtRCjptPowgOjyMHV5YSpnyttHeyCQ_PG8FP2WEtaYb_9zLDdPTziAnnfQq1zWTCKBNACnO7L0A/s320/Pc2Qy5t.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I keep doing this until the book is finished. This also means that I never know how many words the book is going to end up with. Of course, that also means I don't feel as though I need to cut a scene short or not add a scene I think will make the story work better. Editing as I go, also means that I don't imagine every word I write is amazing. Not happening. If a scene or, hell, a chapter needs to be cut then . . . </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif8Mcj84l4MxSCJ5Koh2rsDeNxFJ9W9dqQeeDCjVUBxNvHIoNHKyRIeEOidZdBMOligtJEVNu4KjP71jjzbthDD9HcZ1dlMtp98FpZ5VrrQ86CufnV-Bx77zbBQn8LpUc5FmH6Q4KWGro/s1600/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="263" data-original-width="480" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif8Mcj84l4MxSCJ5Koh2rsDeNxFJ9W9dqQeeDCjVUBxNvHIoNHKyRIeEOidZdBMOligtJEVNu4KjP71jjzbthDD9HcZ1dlMtp98FpZ5VrrQ86CufnV-Bx77zbBQn8LpUc5FmH6Q4KWGro/s320/giphy.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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</div>
<span style="font-size: large;">If it's a huge scene or a chapter, I'll save it, because I could end up using it later or, even, building another story around it. If not then it gets deleted and I go on with my life.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Go check out what <a href="http://www.bronwyngreen.com/best-and-worst-writing-process/" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a>, <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/wednesday-randomness-best-and-worst-writing-process/" target="_blank">Jessica</a>, <a href="https://jessicadelarosa.wordpress.com/2018/02/06/random-wednesday-best-and-worst-writing-process" target="_blank">Jessica D</a>, and<a href="https://www.siobhanmuir.com/siobhans-blog/best-and-worst-writing-process" target="_blank"> Siobhan</a> chose as their best and worst.</span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-48447863905655974992018-01-31T09:00:00.000-05:002018-01-31T09:00:00.250-05:00TOP 10: THINGS I SHOULD DO . . . BUT DON'T<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIAaqlQSpvNeM_uuPnsAu0XzOWLldBbSyFcsxNPgkhb0bn7qflqpt4rkPYu22SXq4WcMJbp7zWVFnprRmk_ctiR6hI9AQ34TKPZUDneA9yKfADhfMEn6__aOn6aW7ElCzSGcDx4-340ak/s1600/01-Top+10_+Things+I+Should+Do...But+Don%2527t.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="560" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIAaqlQSpvNeM_uuPnsAu0XzOWLldBbSyFcsxNPgkhb0bn7qflqpt4rkPYu22SXq4WcMJbp7zWVFnprRmk_ctiR6hI9AQ34TKPZUDneA9yKfADhfMEn6__aOn6aW7ElCzSGcDx4-340ak/s400/01-Top+10_+Things+I+Should+Do...But+Don%2527t.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As with every top 10 list, these are in particular order. Of course, it should be the top billion things I should do, but we just don't have enough space or time for that. So, here goes:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">1. Exercise!! At one point, I worked out every day. Ran, lifted, aerobics--you name it I did it. Yeah, not so much now. I have a Garmin step counter deal, but, believe me, it hasn't motivated me to do more. Now, it's just proof of how lazy I am. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL6cTNV0tseuW8_o_9lDa9mMbEkvpyu4Miu-Xza69YPC2l11cxiADTqlIM_inO9n0dd1Cf06ZMyDJMtAjt2OOgD-F2aUrWhPY40KoDOKY2MT1rHWtxuHBRxDe-0Hs-yrWO6EvMCnQo7Sg/s1600/tired.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="315" data-original-width="600" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL6cTNV0tseuW8_o_9lDa9mMbEkvpyu4Miu-Xza69YPC2l11cxiADTqlIM_inO9n0dd1Cf06ZMyDJMtAjt2OOgD-F2aUrWhPY40KoDOKY2MT1rHWtxuHBRxDe-0Hs-yrWO6EvMCnQo7Sg/s320/tired.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I could so say that it's because it's winter. When I get home it's dark and cold and blah, blah, blah. We all know that's not true. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">2.Write every single day. I think that's more than enough said on that topic.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">3. Eat healthier. I really try, but you know when someone has a birthday at work and they serve cake. CAKE!! Yep, can't turn that down.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd6msrXUhAQHoIYnoXvYYLE8-pufyIwsjTr9iUhseOheUsXM1jn5q7mKOBkPFaU2OhhJUSfjNlq1t15dAPqmXNzxphplfso7kT0RXoLeZ6wzubg-451JP4aTWamOaDPdVQl_JZyiPe8_Q/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1200" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd6msrXUhAQHoIYnoXvYYLE8-pufyIwsjTr9iUhseOheUsXM1jn5q7mKOBkPFaU2OhhJUSfjNlq1t15dAPqmXNzxphplfso7kT0RXoLeZ6wzubg-451JP4aTWamOaDPdVQl_JZyiPe8_Q/s320/3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">4. Take better care of myself. I'm not talking about exercise or eating healthy, but being kinder to me. Sometimes it's easier to be nice to those around me, than to be to myself. Does that make sense??</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">5. Save money. I have a retirement, but it's certainly not nearly enough. I really should save more, but it ends up looking more like:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFF2dw5UWV3tPrKEHRMyncxozLrebIS5OS00suCVb66ZW-oO_Q0E8w2rQ5bM9qdrgzEL73FxPIP_zwZbAGVFW20N_mwLaanrFRO_zLcVRAJUp1hbj2y1C-QW0Cdd-WIJzhWU-XcBPsbqs/s1600/throwing-money-away.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="372" data-original-width="500" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFF2dw5UWV3tPrKEHRMyncxozLrebIS5OS00suCVb66ZW-oO_Q0E8w2rQ5bM9qdrgzEL73FxPIP_zwZbAGVFW20N_mwLaanrFRO_zLcVRAJUp1hbj2y1C-QW0Cdd-WIJzhWU-XcBPsbqs/s320/throwing-money-away.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">6. Actually publish a book. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHXgZIn0b05UFirkDPOtlbRfQKTZixqut_3av2RwtOZANe078tdj-lXi6UsrMxVG0Fuk1x3E5YxsbmSClvs9RI74rWIq6s3LFQlRvzedFIrOElaVVDX0LR5cBPiQkrGuHubu1nMiUUarc/s1600/tenor.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="170" data-original-width="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHXgZIn0b05UFirkDPOtlbRfQKTZixqut_3av2RwtOZANe078tdj-lXi6UsrMxVG0Fuk1x3E5YxsbmSClvs9RI74rWIq6s3LFQlRvzedFIrOElaVVDX0LR5cBPiQkrGuHubu1nMiUUarc/s1600/tenor.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">7. Save to travel to Scotland. I've always wanted to go. My dream is to touch Hadrian's Wall. And, this has been a dream since I was a child. Don't ask me how I learned what Hadrian's Wall is, since I have no idea. But, as long as I can remember, that has been my biggest need/want/desire.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOPGn3n040OOTeoOoYrnOvews8RLO88bTlrDasdzN2QbiZrN0xeaZo1X41wJy0eQdPwhUx-a4952k54wjkD3zSflYC935LyJUawEopdBh23KuSlAWd4gKMHVAcZKTLQa8pFdXRppjoN9Q/s1600/hadrians-wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1440" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOPGn3n040OOTeoOoYrnOvews8RLO88bTlrDasdzN2QbiZrN0xeaZo1X41wJy0eQdPwhUx-a4952k54wjkD3zSflYC935LyJUawEopdBh23KuSlAWd4gKMHVAcZKTLQa8pFdXRppjoN9Q/s320/hadrians-wall.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">8. Spend more time outside. I'm indoors all the time. Whether it's for work, or traveling, or once I get home. I rarely spend any time outdoors, but I need to. I used to hike, but that kind of slipped away. I have this thing about bugs. I mean a huge thing about bugs. So, when I've hiked before it was in the winter. No bugs. So, I need to get back to that. You'd be surprised the things you can see in the winter. For instance, no bugs.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">9. Craft more. I actually love crafting and enjoy it while I'm doing it. So, I should do more of it.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC54E0xIOGdll4boTVBZeE6P16ZJDQ6MMZMIMihaLSV6pVVlxe71BGyPzBO5kAMrSHTsz3KDsb1nShr2dLuO7zoyJRTSbV3AXpYGBQywUAdh0LWHSkjFIpf_E8jm6XYqCP3mPTswoGodQ/s1600/crafting-sm2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="255" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC54E0xIOGdll4boTVBZeE6P16ZJDQ6MMZMIMihaLSV6pVVlxe71BGyPzBO5kAMrSHTsz3KDsb1nShr2dLuO7zoyJRTSbV3AXpYGBQywUAdh0LWHSkjFIpf_E8jm6XYqCP3mPTswoGodQ/s1600/crafting-sm2.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">10. Get out more. I have clinical depression and it rears its ugly head quite a bit. When I'm in the middle of it, all I want to do is hide away. I lose touch with people that I love. I just stop communicating. It takes so much energy to get up and go to work and do the things I have to do, that once I'm home I just can't people anymore. I hope they understand. It's not that I don't want to talk to them or hang out or whatever, but I just don't have the energy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And, there we go, the top 10 things I should do, but don't. Now, go see what's rocking with <a href="https://wp.me/p9Bg1M-5sI" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a>, <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/?p=5861" target="_blank">Jessica</a>, <a href="http://krisnorris.ca/top-ten-things-i-should-do-but-dont/" target="_blank">Kris</a>, <a href="http://www.dieromantic.com/10-things-i-should-do/" target="_blank">Torrance</a>, <a href="https://www.siobhanmuir.com/siobhans-blog/top-ten-things-i-should-do-but-dont" target="_blank">Siobhan</a>, and <a href="http://www.deelylah.com/top-10-things-i-should-do-but-dont/" target="_blank">Deelylah</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-50672079070900587992018-01-28T18:44:00.002-05:002018-01-28T18:44:24.327-05:00CRAFTING: FAIRY DOOR FOR MID-WINTER<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJcVUOky9pUv-EufT47leAvDF7TWmoA4OcuMoDu8q3-wN_qgmDaHnvr1seT_fh6aKe1DTPNiyGr0f8ZazJIMPSjHZCRXpx4vBf9FKok0wRpdrZ1Lxk7KW6BgvRmf4IeV-rcvzkes6E38/s1600/IMG_2266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJcVUOky9pUv-EufT47leAvDF7TWmoA4OcuMoDu8q3-wN_qgmDaHnvr1seT_fh6aKe1DTPNiyGr0f8ZazJIMPSjHZCRXpx4vBf9FKok0wRpdrZ1Lxk7KW6BgvRmf4IeV-rcvzkes6E38/s320/IMG_2266.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A friend of mine asked for a tutorial for the fairy door I made, so here it is. First thing you need to know, is my crafting skills are limited. I can do a bunch of stuff (knit, make jewelry, make soap, and so on) but I'm not amazing at any of them. I enjoy doing it and so I learn enough to not kill myself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Second, my sister and I celebrate a made up holiday we call Mid-Winter. If you want to learn more about it, check out this <a href="http://gwendolyncease.blogspot.com/2015/01/come-celebrate-best-holiday-you-never.html" target="_blank">post</a>. And, if you want to celebrate, then go you! If you read the post, you'll know I have decorations for Mid-Winter, but I love Fairy Doors and none, obviously, exist for Mid-Winter (weirdly enough, they don't exist for fall either). So, I set out to make my own. If you wish to make your own, it's really easy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The first thing you need to do is find a small door, any kind of door that makes you happy. Sis ordered a set of 6 doors for me from Amazon. Here's what they look like out of the package:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9pFlQwO61PzrPTQnL59EUAnZdpa97p82gihh3gtN2pLYOtF9EvjvyP65dJdum9tWwaEHlaZJ-dzWNtUIyK5kL_muHerjcBelTksT1t336izN2ochj4EIokH2MlrT41G_lfqHDAZDvwRI/s1600/IMG_2251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9pFlQwO61PzrPTQnL59EUAnZdpa97p82gihh3gtN2pLYOtF9EvjvyP65dJdum9tWwaEHlaZJ-dzWNtUIyK5kL_muHerjcBelTksT1t336izN2ochj4EIokH2MlrT41G_lfqHDAZDvwRI/s320/IMG_2251.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Totally no thrills, no frills. But they're really cute. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Next, since the colors for Mid-Winter are an icy blue and silver, I went into our craft stash and found blue paint I thought would work. I was stunned when it was the EXACT color I wanted. When you find your color just paint the entire door. I even painted inside the little windows so no wood would show through.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZYozfML-scav2C0L20FfKcbq1HdIyt6GxXnIyo597sPBsVPIwGD7aZqriKSXcxajLCk9s6N2HoC1cUzg-hak_ckpu4J1ioTbTpnSznExG8xqq8QWZDgib9H2ptR9t7vnN8Lqa7XUn6lQ/s1600/IMG_2252.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZYozfML-scav2C0L20FfKcbq1HdIyt6GxXnIyo597sPBsVPIwGD7aZqriKSXcxajLCk9s6N2HoC1cUzg-hak_ckpu4J1ioTbTpnSznExG8xqq8QWZDgib9H2ptR9t7vnN8Lqa7XUn6lQ/s320/IMG_2252.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIsRv1JeAVJmOab33cXaHrztIjj23SUHUA8DGPKVZ2wF83UtzHq3RI1TgSSFXTLhEv47Zb6d_7RQs2wLGXeByTwIfUCVLwEoB4vWBXo1xQSO66rJBnz2Abwb4M9lBmmJ267T7g4B7QoY/s1600/IMG_2253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieIsRv1JeAVJmOab33cXaHrztIjj23SUHUA8DGPKVZ2wF83UtzHq3RI1TgSSFXTLhEv47Zb6d_7RQs2wLGXeByTwIfUCVLwEoB4vWBXo1xQSO66rJBnz2Abwb4M9lBmmJ267T7g4B7QoY/s320/IMG_2253.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now we come to glitter and Mid-Winter is nothing without glitter and sparkle. I knew I wanted to use blue and silver glitter so I decided that the window needed to be silver.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjagGMUlm9hAPHChZ3eTliNjbYZJ2LtKvCBkcM8qzZVQo984hhT8ehSEPlOoCcrgR1bYrP_xhreaM0uGk8TXux8ACfxoDotOSoepp88RzwRaArgaNUNVA3-ls6dQUYAksz6HSdXcO_z0U/s1600/IMG_2254.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjagGMUlm9hAPHChZ3eTliNjbYZJ2LtKvCBkcM8qzZVQo984hhT8ehSEPlOoCcrgR1bYrP_xhreaM0uGk8TXux8ACfxoDotOSoepp88RzwRaArgaNUNVA3-ls6dQUYAksz6HSdXcO_z0U/s320/IMG_2254.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I dumped some glue, I used Elmer's School Glue, onto a paper plate and painted the window using a small paint brush. You want to make sure you cover the entire surface or the glitter won't stick very well. Don't be stingy with the glue.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgCEHZ9J1yPnA832SZjdPlJcalh_g6FBRcd3AevXhPX658aP4RjAezbwhHLgVnmBWgJUXX4_Xe6IqkaAU54Ml4TVWvhOSnRPx2V7RavQUGk7JsrYYPV-jG8MWBVWB3LpRgQyz3xbnHB_k/s1600/IMG_2256.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgCEHZ9J1yPnA832SZjdPlJcalh_g6FBRcd3AevXhPX658aP4RjAezbwhHLgVnmBWgJUXX4_Xe6IqkaAU54Ml4TVWvhOSnRPx2V7RavQUGk7JsrYYPV-jG8MWBVWB3LpRgQyz3xbnHB_k/s320/IMG_2256.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Once the glue is in place, dump that glitter on. I had a paper plate under the door so I could dump the unused back into the container. If you see spots that didn't get glue, just dab some glue on. If you pick up some glitter no biggie. Then, toss glitter on those spots.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxrNOpoTq4_yo5ZEgxEqWWkkpEq8alvk5cx_HJUOdLYl6GQorN4HyO80Ev41QULEanaVpGwsXmOGTTCENsOzHjlQr_4vNqAQoL1DZWXI31K1Cbjm-l7Gd7B2HqO9Je0rc_r3xP0NNeSQo/s1600/IMG_2257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxrNOpoTq4_yo5ZEgxEqWWkkpEq8alvk5cx_HJUOdLYl6GQorN4HyO80Ev41QULEanaVpGwsXmOGTTCENsOzHjlQr_4vNqAQoL1DZWXI31K1Cbjm-l7Gd7B2HqO9Je0rc_r3xP0NNeSQo/s320/IMG_2257.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Next, I pulled out my blue glitter. It's really fine and I prefer it since it's easier to dust on. The color is also perfect for Mid-Winter. I can't remember what we bought it for originally, but I'm so glad we did.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhFFAfVil3z88OGERH4W412aLJlLHCY5-2w0y7ncJ4ehiV7OhOq-CaTl8mqqB_apmH20-eQBx8jBRxanj5Jvvt70TmU0NFmp3E27VFSKn4gii8ezbL6onpebF3BhcwU0woEpX4WdI0x4I/s1600/IMG_2259.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhFFAfVil3z88OGERH4W412aLJlLHCY5-2w0y7ncJ4ehiV7OhOq-CaTl8mqqB_apmH20-eQBx8jBRxanj5Jvvt70TmU0NFmp3E27VFSKn4gii8ezbL6onpebF3BhcwU0woEpX4WdI0x4I/s320/IMG_2259.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Then, I covered the rest of the door with a good amount of glue. I used a larger brush to cover the entire surface.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeMT4RTzvi1mmDICsrcqG322ZbjR0V7x9nlskVepg_Gu7gnjhkR4bTF-mImURF5Kz1QaB3nzUeEq0k7BNj7K8qUJTS7fDMRWXwP3QgZTDO18tX09l21vHA1auDDVZRGVXmfmfV86BHsDI/s1600/IMG_2260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeMT4RTzvi1mmDICsrcqG322ZbjR0V7x9nlskVepg_Gu7gnjhkR4bTF-mImURF5Kz1QaB3nzUeEq0k7BNj7K8qUJTS7fDMRWXwP3QgZTDO18tX09l21vHA1auDDVZRGVXmfmfV86BHsDI/s320/IMG_2260.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Thankfully, the glitter has a shaker lid and I shook that stuff all over the door. Not thick like the window, but just enough to give a good coat. Then I turned it over and dumped off the excess. If I saw a spot that didn't get covered I shook more out, until I was satisfied.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTlxtT8EB34PI7jE6cx4KGCXQcbIesHC8Cc-Wzmeec-ta-0fJF9o-403Qviz3JKmSsmuEhaW3CVffocabawsUjPvoR4CO0cpMx8HPu0U34tl9deHN8gx5QNzxTKTsdjHvqlGKQ0LXXn08/s1600/IMG_2261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTlxtT8EB34PI7jE6cx4KGCXQcbIesHC8Cc-Wzmeec-ta-0fJF9o-403Qviz3JKmSsmuEhaW3CVffocabawsUjPvoR4CO0cpMx8HPu0U34tl9deHN8gx5QNzxTKTsdjHvqlGKQ0LXXn08/s320/IMG_2261.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Next, I added a door knob. Since I make jewelry, I have a LOT of beads. I dug out a fairly large, kind of flat, crystal</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJFXHpDpWMlADntzsp0YwJPDg_x8K8tWD-QvYJOtFzBQydUZhyphenhyphenfDdPlBOtD98RqATr3XjC6BIPg6fRUNfJNkcacYChyphenhyphenmZVBjtxSedoIqvBK4jrLLwOmav-kf6cfJ_QNSNHrawOWZTpEv8/s1600/IMG_2262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJFXHpDpWMlADntzsp0YwJPDg_x8K8tWD-QvYJOtFzBQydUZhyphenhyphenfDdPlBOtD98RqATr3XjC6BIPg6fRUNfJNkcacYChyphenhyphenmZVBjtxSedoIqvBK4jrLLwOmav-kf6cfJ_QNSNHrawOWZTpEv8/s320/IMG_2262.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">And using hot glue, stuck that where I imagined the knob should go. Yeah, no measuring, nothing scientific. Just eyeball that sucker and glue</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtHFA1e1xBMyVx0TZYFtSkwZZPJh36_6a4izAK0zc3PmW_rxrWcaKROLE3kp3M7h62Sd2Z78LcnpFWG7F5_YBYifbygzHBx71ieprpB62NN0PAzfjeFXYKFG48Syq7gD_pvM7LY5WCk4A/s1600/IMG_2264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtHFA1e1xBMyVx0TZYFtSkwZZPJh36_6a4izAK0zc3PmW_rxrWcaKROLE3kp3M7h62Sd2Z78LcnpFWG7F5_YBYifbygzHBx71ieprpB62NN0PAzfjeFXYKFG48Syq7gD_pvM7LY5WCk4A/s320/IMG_2264.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">A few years ago, Sis and I made our own holiday houses, basing them off the old Putz houses we had as kids. We bought a gob of different holiday/winter themed scrapbook stickers. We just happened to have a large package of snowflakes</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQQcXzDDnUE_VoZmMNOh0TPaEqn6jYqdjJi6DdEWCDASw1f2AyXxF7fqeu4CZtiHVVKBk2fYZzl_MND_J5WYbB6IqkXOpuvmJl9WiQgUokQV4sMcvgviUv7MDo2fQjYQ7M8NMGGUaeOAY/s1600/IMG_2263.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQQcXzDDnUE_VoZmMNOh0TPaEqn6jYqdjJi6DdEWCDASw1f2AyXxF7fqeu4CZtiHVVKBk2fYZzl_MND_J5WYbB6IqkXOpuvmJl9WiQgUokQV4sMcvgviUv7MDo2fQjYQ7M8NMGGUaeOAY/s320/IMG_2263.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I decided to stick them on the door in a random way. Not too many, since I didn't think it would look good and not all lined up either. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcRysVOySFixCnLD6wyD_xMCyHYBoSyipUmryRbM3lThxao4AQ_2VMx1GOfVocWDpeVVyQwUoMJPZVoCl6rvOHFpXum-CAFIuGgz78t-5yyWkzcZmA-mFvoDHW_xEqaSBuA_eeF3nGxu8/s1600/IMG_2266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcRysVOySFixCnLD6wyD_xMCyHYBoSyipUmryRbM3lThxao4AQ_2VMx1GOfVocWDpeVVyQwUoMJPZVoCl6rvOHFpXum-CAFIuGgz78t-5yyWkzcZmA-mFvoDHW_xEqaSBuA_eeF3nGxu8/s320/IMG_2266.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">And, voy-ola it's a Mid-Winter Fairy Door! I plan on making doors for spring, Ostara, summer, fall and on and on. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hope you enjoyed this and it makes sense. If you have questions, you're more than welcome to hit me up in the comment section or on my Facebook page.</span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-77779645048996490602018-01-26T09:00:00.000-05:002018-01-26T09:00:24.240-05:00JANUARY CHECK-IN<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO19iKQWZAVSXK2vIxJCcR_PiefWNo9p4kS7OmWDBekg29sSmMZClN4sxOn6Be74EqjevgJjLg6vijOmnU0wzgG7z2-LfILNtjnm33y9cB51DwnMCKnFLDgHofH7SLUSCCn02RUFHdUMo/s1600/MonthlyCheck-in.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="450" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO19iKQWZAVSXK2vIxJCcR_PiefWNo9p4kS7OmWDBekg29sSmMZClN4sxOn6Be74EqjevgJjLg6vijOmnU0wzgG7z2-LfILNtjnm33y9cB51DwnMCKnFLDgHofH7SLUSCCn02RUFHdUMo/s320/MonthlyCheck-in.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hello!! Can you believe the first month of the year is already over? So crazy. I actually didn't have a list of things I wanted to accomplish this month. Hell, if I could manage something I'd be happy. Yeah, I know, I'm so easy to please.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I wanted to blog every time this month. Needless to say, I missed that. I had email issues and decided to go into my account and then I couldn't remember my password. I tried to change it and it wouldn't let me. So, I was locked out of my email. Long story short, it took two days and phone calls to finally get back into my email. By that time, I was exhausted. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEUiq-OmiZDKMH4V9f4JUT4Qdb7vHHFog2irP9q6voSsV4C0rYyIr_LHdqBGKvMjRfjLNOEB9aEy6BOZNc9_Caq8_rAGDPKPZKy92U30TOxttvuLTlDY6DJ4BIsT0m8MIjOaap5ueXYUg/s1600/Liz-lemon-eye-roll.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="500" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEUiq-OmiZDKMH4V9f4JUT4Qdb7vHHFog2irP9q6voSsV4C0rYyIr_LHdqBGKvMjRfjLNOEB9aEy6BOZNc9_Caq8_rAGDPKPZKy92U30TOxttvuLTlDY6DJ4BIsT0m8MIjOaap5ueXYUg/s320/Liz-lemon-eye-roll.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Okay, fine, I actually forgot. Exhausted, forgot, it's pretty much the same thing. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Okay, huge win (and yeah, when I typed that, it came out as wine) anyway, I worked on Entangled!!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW-DM5yiCJIKKUsv6J1AHFQ-z1yTnpEzKQ0PJXfUGCqGOShSW472ZD3iLJvwS1lYWBXbkOyFlIOLw-x4Sv2YEUWi_JkU3ClIDwLNxqjpiuPSFJTFgE7q5qj9inVoRWP1839fujqvuvvlk/s1600/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="226" data-original-width="500" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW-DM5yiCJIKKUsv6J1AHFQ-z1yTnpEzKQ0PJXfUGCqGOShSW472ZD3iLJvwS1lYWBXbkOyFlIOLw-x4Sv2YEUWi_JkU3ClIDwLNxqjpiuPSFJTFgE7q5qj9inVoRWP1839fujqvuvvlk/s320/giphy.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So, that IS a huge win or wine, whatever, for me. Wine!!!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Q3Bap3Xgh8zLOFoESvy1rdSvPDJ_u5qL6VfEAkJf11E1C-av9Blti_fNOpcJcV1B21ykIfNvvXTRa3RC-1NQ7wwuP5Wv6rO7lrjaykQgIWtGge-60gS6Wj4nKkngw68G5scYlp4A6oo/s1600/tenor.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="224" data-original-width="400" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Q3Bap3Xgh8zLOFoESvy1rdSvPDJ_u5qL6VfEAkJf11E1C-av9Blti_fNOpcJcV1B21ykIfNvvXTRa3RC-1NQ7wwuP5Wv6rO7lrjaykQgIWtGge-60gS6Wj4nKkngw68G5scYlp4A6oo/s320/tenor.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Next month, I plan on blogging each time we're supposed to. That's 7 times. Yeah, I can totally do this!! And, I'm going to try and finish Entangled. Not, like, fake finish it, like before, but really and truly finish it. For total realz!!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkFhdnQxctJ8gc5npdsHTj8LjfTVzpakIRSQmvWkziXaRbo8hLKqsxUT53leiCKd7jkkCH9VYUPot34M0ZM358g-NlaDZ6VVk-gipTgboAxhyphenhyphentaDCBDZoJ9DXs-a8QTK-Mrf4Stta58ks/s1600/YBLj5BW.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="281" data-original-width="400" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkFhdnQxctJ8gc5npdsHTj8LjfTVzpakIRSQmvWkziXaRbo8hLKqsxUT53leiCKd7jkkCH9VYUPot34M0ZM358g-NlaDZ6VVk-gipTgboAxhyphenhyphentaDCBDZoJ9DXs-a8QTK-Mrf4Stta58ks/s320/YBLj5BW.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Okay, so now go and check out how my amazing friends <a href="http://bronwyngreenblog.com/2018/01/26/monthly-goals-check-in-january-2018" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a> and <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/blog/?p=5365" target="_blank">Jessica</a> did this month.</span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-3806684295993102942018-01-15T09:18:00.003-05:002018-01-15T09:18:32.855-05:00JANUARY'S INSPIRED BY A MELODY . . . <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuT6M3c6HPpTF2Zl6PyvhAhATXEwDHJxREWEDUHoDC6F6h4s8d_4zx1vXvNhd9YyBiosUT2gHX7_VYfhWUP0r4BHTkWjYVlNjPWtK6A75Hj1ER0oDr4tPOcNvOgYvjeMLZxG0W4cotPos/s1600/FlashFicSONG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="232" data-original-width="450" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuT6M3c6HPpTF2Zl6PyvhAhATXEwDHJxREWEDUHoDC6F6h4s8d_4zx1vXvNhd9YyBiosUT2gHX7_VYfhWUP0r4BHTkWjYVlNjPWtK6A75Hj1ER0oDr4tPOcNvOgYvjeMLZxG0W4cotPos/s400/FlashFicSONG.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This month's song we're writing to is Florence and the Machines Dog Days Are Over. I love this song! It makes me really happy, which is probably why my piece reflects that. Oh, if you don't know the song, here's the <a href="https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/florencethemachine/dogdaysareover.html" target="_blank">lyrics</a> and the video.</span><br />
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<iframe allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/iWOyfLBYtuU" width="560"></iframe>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Okay, so here's what I wrote, it's short, but I think it works. Oh and it involves my couple from last month. Hope you enjoy it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Rain streamed
down the window as Cara felt as though she were going to cry. Of course, it
would rain. Why not? It was only one of the most important days ever. She never
thought she and Spencer would get here, but they had. And she’d wanted the day
to be perfect. Thunder chose that moment to rumble loud enough to shake the
room she stood in and she couldn’t help but laugh. Nope, not going to be
perfect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“What are
you doing?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Cara glanced
over her shoulder at her best friend. Maeve had been with her on ever step of
this journey. Hell, she’d been there when Cara had first met Spencer. She had
been the one to encourage her to go out with him, even though he wasn’t like
any man she’d ever dated before. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Cara?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Why did I
want an outdoor wedding? Why did I think it would work out?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Maeve
smiled. “Because you wanted to be different.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Oh yeah, I’m
different alright. Pretty soon, I’m going to be walking down a mud aisle, as
rain ruins my dress, then get struck my lightning. Because, yeah, that’s my
luck.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Ah, we’re
having a pity party. I hadn’t realized that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Cara rolled
her eyes. “Maeve, I’m serious.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“And, so am
I. If we’re having a party we need music.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Saying, this
she moved to where Cara had set up her MP3 player and stopped the classical
music that had been coming from the mini-speakers. After a moment, Florence and
the Machine’s song Dog Days Are Over issued from the speaker. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Maeve bounced
over and grabbed Cara’s hands. “Dance party instead of pity party.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m not in
the mood.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Oh, but you
are. It’s your wedding day. You’re marrying a man that is totally crazy for you
and you’re crazy for him. You’re surrounded by people who love the both of you.
What’s not to be happy about?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Thunder chose
that moment to rumble across the sky, followed by a bright flash of lightning. Maeve
quirked an eyebrow and rolled her eyes. Against her own will, Cara laughed.
What else could she do? It wasn’t like she could control the weather. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Maeve pulled
her to the center of the room and began to dance, if anyone could call what
Maeve did that. Mostly, it involved bouncing around, flailing around like a deranged
Muppet. When her best friend flashed her a huge smile, Cara laughed and began
to bounce and flail her arms too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The two
women bounced and flailed as the rain poured down and Cara decided, what the
fuck. Maeve was right. She was marrying the man she loved, no matter what happened.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Spinning,
she found Spencer leaning in the doorway, clad in his tux, watching her with that
look. The look that told her he wanted nothing more than to strip her down and
devour her. Oh yeah, she could so get with that program. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Stepping in,
he took her in his arms and spun around as Maeve danced around them. It was
going to be okay. No matter the storm or anything else. She and Spencer were
okay. Hell, they were better than okay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I love you,”
he said. “We’ll figure this out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He took her
lips and Cara knew he was absolutely right. They would totally figure things
out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now go check out <a href="http://bronwyngreenblog.com/2018/01/15/flash-fiction-74-dog-days-are-over" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a>, <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/blog/?p=5285" target="_blank">Jess</a>, <a href="http://krisnorris.ca/blog/Entries/2018/1/song-flash-fiction--dog-days-are-over-1.html" target="_blank">Kris</a>, <a href="https://www.siobhanmuir.com/siobhans-blog/flashfiction-happiness" target="_blank">Siobhan</a>, and <a href="http://www.deelylah.com/dog-days-are-over/" target="_blank">Deelylah</a>. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-22945287040029446462018-01-03T09:00:00.000-05:002018-01-03T09:00:09.308-05:00JANUARY WORDLESS WEDNESDAY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggAXZ2TXTcj3R6dIvpP-bfM4ABHyY5vsG4LnBE5FdMtwzI5LJfgGuzuq-3Nj2fHNc-Y5E4O4a48hoFqdOvCuOyyqPIk_XgS4S9gWjzNmsF6XZsN8fvxFUgc0BgJsFURyHKanwZm9wmwcQ/s1600/WordlessWed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggAXZ2TXTcj3R6dIvpP-bfM4ABHyY5vsG4LnBE5FdMtwzI5LJfgGuzuq-3Nj2fHNc-Y5E4O4a48hoFqdOvCuOyyqPIk_XgS4S9gWjzNmsF6XZsN8fvxFUgc0BgJsFURyHKanwZm9wmwcQ/s400/WordlessWed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Welcome to the first Wordless Wednesday of 2018. This first one is our choice to share whatever we'd like and, since it's so damn cold, I'm going to share pics I took at a botanical garden Sis and I visited. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now go see the pics that <a href="http://bronwyngreenblog.com/2018/01/03/wordless-wednesday" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a>, <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/blog/?p=5252" target="_blank">Jess</a>, <a href="http://krisnorris.ca/wordpress/?p=1481&preview=true" target="_blank">Kris</a>, <a href="https://jessicadelarosa.wordpress.com/2018/01/02/random-wordless-wednesday" target="_blank">Jessica D</a>, <a href="http://www.dieromantic.com/wordless-wednesday-new-year/" target="_blank">Torrance</a>, and <a href="https://www.siobhanmuir.com/siobhans-blog/wordless-wednesday-holiday" target="_blank">Siobhan</a> posted.</span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-48187307042301555022018-01-01T09:00:00.000-05:002018-01-01T09:01:05.246-05:00JANUARY PHOTO FLASH FICTION!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEmywh1u2FvJpAhGVkkdVq3fMq4xzKRZeziCEljhekwzRsi8VENq4IxJtEe5O_wm1wQKy2qWadmU_jcb8JVm9G3SdIVL2lZVHyDjPiwZlrn-mL8erMG5YJxX6JS4tRR9VuShxQ4JcHYy0/s1600/FlashFicPHOTO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="450" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEmywh1u2FvJpAhGVkkdVq3fMq4xzKRZeziCEljhekwzRsi8VENq4IxJtEe5O_wm1wQKy2qWadmU_jcb8JVm9G3SdIVL2lZVHyDjPiwZlrn-mL8erMG5YJxX6JS4tRR9VuShxQ4JcHYy0/s400/FlashFicPHOTO.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hey!! Welcome to 2018!! Let's hope it's a hell of a lot better than the year that shall not be named. Anyway, the very first flash fiction for the new year is set around the picture below. So here it is!</span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Mary Kathryn rolled down the snow covered
road, her foot an uneasy companion on the brake pedal. The windshield wipers
slapped furiously at the falling snow, but the stuff came down faster than the
wipers could manage. The clock on the dash read six-thirty. She should have
been at her destination two hours ago. Spend a week up at a beautiful mountain
cabin her friends had said. It won’t be a problem at all. It’s so easy to get
to. Easy her ass.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She poked at the GPS mounted on the front
dash. In a snotty tone he grumbled, “Recalculating.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“You’ve been recalculating for the last
twenty minutes you piece of shit.” Mary Kathryn shouted. “You led me here. I
wouldn’t be here, but for your directions. So get me out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The only reply was, “Recalculating.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’ll show you recalculating.” She ripped
the offending piece of electronics off her dash and hurled it out the window
into the snow. “Recalculate that, why don’t you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">For a moment, she felt good, triumphant, but
then realized she’d thrown out her only means of navigation. She had no maps or
written directions. She only had an address and it was currently stored inside
the GPS that now sat outside the car. Outside in the snow. In the snow that was
falling faster than she cared to notice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Fuck,” she muttered, bringing the car to
a stop. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She added for emphasis.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Wearily, she put the car in park and
climbed out into onto the snowy road. She hadn’t pitched the thing that far,
she reasoned with herself, so it should be easy to find. She walked confidently
to where she was sure it was and found nothing. She kicked at the snow hoping
she would suddenly see black plastic, but it didn’t happen. Frantically, she
dropped to her knees and began to comb over the ground. What the hell? One
small mistake and she was permanently lost? Never to be found? Until the spring
thaw when someone would find her lifeless remains in the middle of the road
only mere feet from the damn GPS. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Please, oh please.” She said as she
sifted and dug through snow. “I’ll never curse again. I’ll be polite to people
who don’t deserve it. I’ll start eating better and exercising.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her hand closed around something small and
square. Pulling it forth she discovered her GPS and cradled it to her chest.
Okay, she was okay now. Huffing out a breath she climbed to her feet and stumbled
back to her car. The snow was falling faster or maybe it just felt like it
since she was out in it. Either way, by the time she closed herself back in the
car she was wet all the way through and freezing. Ignoring the shivers, she
dried the GPS off with a towel and tapped the screen. The thing hesitated only
a moment before it came on and told her it was acquiring a satellite signal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“What? You had a signal. Why do you have
to try to acquire one again?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She laid it on the passenger seat and
began the breathing exercises her therapist had given her. Slowly, she pulled a
breath in through her nose, held it, and slowly let it out. She tried to
imagine calming images such as a roaring fire, waves rolling on a white sand
beach, and a cup of hot chocolate. When she felt calmer, she opened her eyes
and smiled. Yep, she was fine. Everything was okay.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Drive to highlighted route,” the GPS
directed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She picked it up to discover no
highlighted route shown on the screen, only a series of squiggly black lines
that could have been anything from roads to worms. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“What highlighted route?” She demanded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Drive to highlighted route,” the voice
replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“What the fuck!” She shrieked. “There is
no highlighted route, you mechanical piece of shit.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Drive to highlighted route,” the voice
now taunted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She turned the screen to face the snow
storm. “Do you see a fucking highlighted anything? I don’t. I see a big load of nothing. You
were supposed to take me where I wanted to go. That’s how our relationship
works. I put in the address and you tell me how to get there. But instead, you
prattle on about recalculating and highlighted routes. Are you fucking nuts?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Drive to highlighted route,” came the
snotty reply.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Bite me.” She tossed the idiot box in the
backseat and put the car in gear. Obviously, the thing had some kind of defect
so she would just get herself out of the mess it had gotten her into. She gave
the car gas and began to once again move down the snow covered road. <i>It had to lead somewhere, right? I mean, no
one would have built a road that led to nothing.</i> MK snorted, yeah right,
with her luck the thing would lead her right off a cliff. And the damn GPS
would still be yelling at her to drive to the highlighted route. Asshead thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">MK gave the car more gas as it struggled
to break through the snow covering the road. She doubted this place ever saw a
snow plow. Hell, she doubted it saw people since she hadn’t seen another
vehicle in hours or was it days? She wasn’t sure anymore. When…if she ever made
it back to civilization, she was going to kill every one of her friends who
badgered her to go on this slow trip to hell.
So what if her life was boring? So what if she hadn’t dated in so long
she couldn’t remember? She had a job she somewhat liked. Okay, tolerated. But
it paid the bills and right now that’s what she was looking for. Not some grand
adventure. Unfortunately, she’d found the adventure, but she didn’t know how
grand it was. Being trapped in a snow storm with no clue where she was or where
she was going wasn’t exactly something she had wanted when she’d started out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She leaned closer to the wind shield as
the wipers attempted to keep her vision clear. The snow was falling so hard
that even on high the wipers were getting bogged down. She hated to admit it,
but if this kept up she was going to have to stop since she wouldn’t be able to
see. Then what? She wasn’t sure. Her foot got heavier on the accelerator as if
that was going to help things. All it did was make the car shudder and the
wheels begin to slide. She eased up only slightly as she continued down her own
personal road to Hell. It had to be because she couldn’t think of any other
explanation. She couldn’t figure out what she’d done to deserve any of this,
but it had to be pretty horrible to warrant this type of abuse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“In one mile, turn right,” a muffled voice
from the backseat proclaimed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Mary Kathryn started, remembering she’d
tossed the GPS back there. One mile? One mile! Yes. All she had to do was stay
on the road and she would get to where she was supposed to be. She did a little
jig in her seat and leaned even closer to the windshield. Energy surged through
her body as she thought about the interminable journey coming to an end. One mile
and she could quit the stupid car. One mile and she could relax, crack open the
wine she’d brought and drink until she passed out. Life was good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She didn’t care that the snow was coming
down so hard she doubted she could see the right to turn. At this point, she’d
walk. She just wanted to sit someplace that didn’t move. She blinked to clear
her vision. Only a little longer, she told herself. You can do this. You are
woman and you can do anything. She sang about how cool she was as she brought
the car to a crawl. The GPS, once an evil piece of crap, now informed her that
she would be turning any minute now. She sang to the GPS then, telling it how
awesome it was. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">With the GPS egging her on, MK slowly
began turning the wheel. She couldn’t entertain the thought the thing was wrong
or she could be turning off a steep cliff. All she wanted was to reach her
destination. That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. With a lurch, the car
eased onto what she thought was a road. Since it wasn’t shooting like a rocket
down a hill she was happy as she began to straighten the wheel out. From the
backseat the voice of doom called out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Recalculating.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“What? I made the turn.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Recalculating.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She took her foot off the gas, but the car
kept going. Fortunately, it didn’t go far, just a few feet. Unfortunately, it
slid down a small hill until it ran into a large something. The belt snapped
her back against the seat and the engine whined. She blinked, unsure of what just happened.
One minute she’d been on the road and the next…she wasn’t sure. The airbags
hadn’t deployed so that was a positive. The car was also running. Taking a
deep, shaky breath she eased the vehicle in reverse and touched the gas. All
that did was cause the engine to whine louder and the tires to spin. She was
stuck. Well fuck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Drive to highlighted route,” the voice
prattled from behind her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Mary Kathryn burst into laughter. Sure she
would, just as soon as the snow melted and she could back her car out. She was
also planning to get a new GPS since this one obviously had issues. Serious
issues. Maybe it needed therapy. Sighing, she shoved her door open and
tentative stepped out. Instantly, she dropped down and found herself ass deep
in snow. Of course the car would wind up in a snow bank. Where else would it
go? She boosted herself back into the car enough to turn the engine off and
grab her purse. She wasn’t sure where to go, but she couldn’t stay where she
was. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She looped the purse strap over her head
until it hung down across her chest and began to slowly wade up to the main
road. Or at least she hoped that’s where she was heading. At this point, she
didn’t care. She just wanted out. Losing her footing, she yelled out as she
fell on her face and slid back down next to her car. She attempted to get to
her feet, but with nothing to hold on to, she was once again eating snow. The
process of attempting to get up and ending up back on her face went on for a
good long time until MK rolled onto her back and screamed as loud as she could.
Her frustration level was through the roof and she could understand how someone
could finally lose it and do something heinous.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She lay in the snow panting as a voice
chimed out, “Please drive to highlighted route.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Well fuck me,” she muttered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Is that an invitation?” A low male voice
inquired.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now, go and see what <a href="http://bronwyngreenblog.com/2018/01/01/flash-fiction-73-winter-road" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a>, <a href="http://krisnorris.ca/wordpress/?p=1474&preview=true" target="_blank">Kris</a>, <a href="https://www.siobhanmuir.com/siobhans-blog/flashfiction-snowy-road" target="_blank">Siobhan</a>, and <a href="https://wp.me/p51C04-hy" target="_blank">Kayleigh</a> came up with. </span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-71659990917433394802017-12-18T09:00:00.000-05:002017-12-18T09:00:51.482-05:00DECEMBER SONG FLASH FICTION<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibMyYbLFZqN7pQHuNTyAv1Syee2je0ZW1Xq-Q1QiTgPRxbkNM7kt_OH69UNWjqX0k83QXBqndbQiex8puGhKhu6ZNbmsLXs7ijJvfOVmXFNcT8PDyjcs_eGXqlgfmIQzMMcUyuKqQoTi0/s1600/FlashFicSONG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="232" data-original-width="450" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibMyYbLFZqN7pQHuNTyAv1Syee2je0ZW1Xq-Q1QiTgPRxbkNM7kt_OH69UNWjqX0k83QXBqndbQiex8puGhKhu6ZNbmsLXs7ijJvfOVmXFNcT8PDyjcs_eGXqlgfmIQzMMcUyuKqQoTi0/s400/FlashFicSONG.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">The song this month is called Chances by Five for Fighting. Here's the video:</span><br />
<iframe allow="encrypted-media" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" gesture="media" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/n8cfbBgXIow" width="560"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And the <a href="https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/fiveforfighting/chances.html" target="_blank">lyrics</a> for the song. Now here's what I wrote. It's not very long, but I think it fits:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She was sure
they were finished. Truly, what man would stick around after the fiasco that
was “Christmas with the family?” In fact, that phrase should be surrounded by
red warning lights. Hell, she should be surrounded by the red warning lights.
Why did she think spending time with her family was a good idea? She knew how
they were. Rude. Overbearing. Entitled. And that was just her mother. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Cara glanced
over at Spencer and almost sighed aloud. He hadn’t said much since they’d climbed
into the car to head back to her house. He was probably trying to figure out if
he could just slow down and shove her out or if he’d have to stop. And she
really didn’t blame him. Between her mother acting as though she smelled
something horrible to her father talking endlessly about golfing with some
politician or another nothing had gone right. Add in her brother wanting to
know when Spencer had gotten out of prison and the whole evening was a total
cluster.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">This wasn’t
the way she imagined their first Christmas. She thought they’d snuggle up by
the fire, open some gifts, and have hot monkey sex under the tree. She didn’t
imagine any of that was going to happen now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He turned
his truck into the driveway and turned off the engine. The snow that had begun
falling as they’d left her parents was coming down in earnest now. The sidewalk
would have to be cleared in the morning, if it kept up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Spencer glanced
at her. “Wait there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She watched
him jog around the front of the vehicle and come around her side to the open
the door. Instead of letting her step out, he swept her up in his arms and
carried her up the walk to the front porch. This was why she loved the man so much.
He was an amazing, warm, loving human being. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I didn’t
want you to get snow in your fancy shoes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">His low,
gruff voice made heat pool low in her body. Stop, she told herself, this was
certainly not the time to get all worked up. Her family had insulted him, so
she doubted he was in the mood for sex. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">They stepped
into the house and took their shoes off at the door. Something else they had in
common. No matter the weather, the shoes came off the instant they stepped inside.
It was all about not letting anything that happened outside their home inside.
This time, though, if they’d tossed the shoes out in the yard it wouldn’t
matter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Spencer moved
into the living room and began to build a fire in the fireplace as Cara turned
on the tree. The ornaments glittered in the lights of the tree and fire and she
could feel tears sting her eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Turning, she
found he had pulled off the sweater she’d given him and sat in a black t-shirt
watching her. Tattoos decorated his strong arms, the arms she wanted around
her. Always. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I’m so
sorry.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“For what?”
he asked, motioning for her to sit next to him on the couch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“My horrible
family. We never should have gone. I had so hoped that, somehow, they’d be
different. I have no idea what I was thinking.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He nodded. “And
why are you apologizing? You didn’t have anything to do with how they acted.
That’s all on them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yeah, but
they’re my family—”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Baby, we
can’t choose what family we’re born into. What we can choose is the family we
make.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Cara put her
arms around him as he pulled her into his lap. “So, you’re not leaving me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Fuck no,”
he murmured against her neck, then bit her lightly. “In fact, I want to change
up our relationship.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Change up?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">He leaned
back to dig in his pocket, until he came up with a small box. Using his thumb
nail, he popped it open to reveal a diamond ring. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I want you
to marry me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Cara’s mouth
fell open. This was the man who’d said he never wanted to get married. Ever. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I love you.
Say something.” He nipped her ear with his teeth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yes, yes,
of course I’ll marry you. I love you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Now, we’ll
make our own family.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Go and see my amazing friends </span><a href="http://bronwyngreenblog.com/2017/12/18/flash-fiction-72-chances" style="font-size: x-large;" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a><span style="font-size: large;">, </span><a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/blog/?p=4768" style="font-size: x-large;" target="_blank">Jessica</a><span style="font-size: large;">, </span><a href="http://krisnorris.ca/wordpress/?p=1466&preview=true" style="font-size: x-large;" target="_blank">Kris</a><span style="font-size: large;">, and </span><a href="https://www.siobhanmuir.com/siobhans-blog/flashfiction-chances-are" style="font-size: x-large;" target="_blank">Siobhan</a><span style="font-size: large;">. You will not be disappointed.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-4881417340962928842017-12-13T09:00:00.000-05:002017-12-13T09:00:45.463-05:00HOLIDAYS AT MY HOUSE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0NFA5emeQLD8dVd-aVACZRZkFIShB_oaes-JGbyGUXQVWCQekHwZMNV9Mn4rG9XlxqfQFMfN2JSerd80hRPHuYcgYgFBHjTH357qZGlrM8oJQwMcgyuBeNxcUpP3dwd5G4Gy_T2VTD8/s1600/WordlessWed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0NFA5emeQLD8dVd-aVACZRZkFIShB_oaes-JGbyGUXQVWCQekHwZMNV9Mn4rG9XlxqfQFMfN2JSerd80hRPHuYcgYgFBHjTH357qZGlrM8oJQwMcgyuBeNxcUpP3dwd5G4Gy_T2VTD8/s400/WordlessWed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As always, you know I'm never going to be silent. Anyway, the pics represent most of the decorations. Of course, my sister has another tree in her room and I don't think I have any pics of that. So, yeah, 3 trees. We also have 7 wreaths. Yeah, I know. It's a sickness and we accept that. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNCqIualBGlkQKCe7xmpuGrKBZvckO8R6Zs5HBp0xxS89kGvX3O1i2nEXlSk6RdTcuPgGHOUXDXUzTmGTbaPnC6xqYNWfz4-LkjedriDZpXZQMTv-HJKB6okTjWMX-Rob1tPt6pOlV4UM/s1600/IMG_2104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNCqIualBGlkQKCe7xmpuGrKBZvckO8R6Zs5HBp0xxS89kGvX3O1i2nEXlSk6RdTcuPgGHOUXDXUzTmGTbaPnC6xqYNWfz4-LkjedriDZpXZQMTv-HJKB6okTjWMX-Rob1tPt6pOlV4UM/s320/IMG_2104.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtzmYVowktT-mO3cRaurGM4jiIsnKW3O9iKEGpAFuOT8uzBTN2UodYfVwo2LdWZwrIv0dwsc7k9uhPmPQA1jo9LZJVTlElR2yHouJdWl4RxfvPLmrkdQqoeSQK00OGa09QngldOy9GDoE/s1600/IMG_2106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtzmYVowktT-mO3cRaurGM4jiIsnKW3O9iKEGpAFuOT8uzBTN2UodYfVwo2LdWZwrIv0dwsc7k9uhPmPQA1jo9LZJVTlElR2yHouJdWl4RxfvPLmrkdQqoeSQK00OGa09QngldOy9GDoE/s320/IMG_2106.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiJgcScwbnGzmlYb6mwr0mBajz2XfYVGBELG26FYtYrR0f00y8zKZFUdrGbYffFbjwHlwXPOxkH1ULnDWdbj0SdO99K9ZhOE1teCw1OFSYvpBnqsZeMFwe4L_Nc2JJ-dpZgFKJkArcgmE/s1600/IMG_2118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiJgcScwbnGzmlYb6mwr0mBajz2XfYVGBELG26FYtYrR0f00y8zKZFUdrGbYffFbjwHlwXPOxkH1ULnDWdbj0SdO99K9ZhOE1teCw1OFSYvpBnqsZeMFwe4L_Nc2JJ-dpZgFKJkArcgmE/s320/IMG_2118.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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I fibbed, this is Sis's tree.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I could keep going and going, but I think you get the picture. Our house is DECORATED! So, now I've stunned you with the magnificence, go and check out <a href="http://bronwyngreenblog.com/2017/12/13/wordless-wednesday-holidays-at-my-house" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a>, <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/blog/?p=4765" target="_blank">Jessica</a>, and <a href="http://authorpaigeprince.com/?p=1743" target="_blank">Paige</a>'s decorations.</span></div>
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Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-34766056302514981482017-12-06T09:00:00.000-05:002017-12-06T09:00:15.749-05:00TOP 10: GIFTS FOR WRITERS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeFryxI1qFIM9Fp2slcIxb4Nm45bHUbiaIhTEvn2jY4R4yG9JfFzU5AFDgO7KkveoU-vvaQP9h7tT_Vhe-67ZdWvBLFWeBp07Plcd55T7LqGvzpN0UeNEYAY-GpSa3ZDIis6aBrYu4AhE/s1600/Top10-12DEC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="409" data-original-width="641" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeFryxI1qFIM9Fp2slcIxb4Nm45bHUbiaIhTEvn2jY4R4yG9JfFzU5AFDgO7KkveoU-vvaQP9h7tT_Vhe-67ZdWvBLFWeBp07Plcd55T7LqGvzpN0UeNEYAY-GpSa3ZDIis6aBrYu4AhE/s400/Top10-12DEC.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Wow! Can you believe it's the last Top 10 of the year? Yeah, me neither and this one is a good one too. We're listing the Top 10 gifts for writers. As always, they are in no particular order. And, before I start, let me share Wednesday Male Hotness, since I haven't done it in a while.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieQE3KeOWOqKlAy1ql477a1bd8hBsV3qS7syP-wbzVRiPTWGAbRkakq0EvRbF7ckOYhzdPWA_u3WgmrPVibTYb-l8-vl5qiF6gmD6azzsFA0o5nK3joPPeT8XuPEK5udoRC2DtmX5kqDM/s1600/22687547_1494844873935822_8649260817000509989_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="589" data-original-width="591" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieQE3KeOWOqKlAy1ql477a1bd8hBsV3qS7syP-wbzVRiPTWGAbRkakq0EvRbF7ckOYhzdPWA_u3WgmrPVibTYb-l8-vl5qiF6gmD6azzsFA0o5nK3joPPeT8XuPEK5udoRC2DtmX5kqDM/s320/22687547_1494844873935822_8649260817000509989_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now onto the list</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. Concentration. Yeah, I know it's not giftable, but this is something I really need. The ability to just sit down and concentrate on the book blocking everything else out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. The next impossible gift is once I'm all concentrated on the book, it would just flow out of me. No hesitations. No starting and stopping. Just sit and pour out 5000 words no problem.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh7-DcBuOheNYj2LwM2iltcZy-DelnKNo_EOIMe31y4Hihu37GR6ok9MOCk-JFXQN0cX4pNyUVCl1e5adJOpfX5MYmR77pEvaXNkXEOmaDYsiYNGtV7up557VFiKpB_yJxB4WJjv9B9D0/s1600/happiness-words.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="561" data-original-width="564" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh7-DcBuOheNYj2LwM2iltcZy-DelnKNo_EOIMe31y4Hihu37GR6ok9MOCk-JFXQN0cX4pNyUVCl1e5adJOpfX5MYmR77pEvaXNkXEOmaDYsiYNGtV7up557VFiKpB_yJxB4WJjv9B9D0/s320/happiness-words.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. Money. I wish I had money so that I could just concentrate on writing. Not that I don't love my day job, I do, but I just wish I could stay home and write. Which leads me to the next gift:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">4. Travel. I want to go places to experience them first hand so I can write about them. For instance, Scotland. I would love, love, to go there and set a book there writing it from a prospective of knowledge.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM8qSMZK-0mHg6JS-2SV08hi83XgGgTpbopYMsAeUeqkJwZzuLQnMtqAEQ4ZvMJ6Ar9QSYy_ghT0oOPDjA6NlKWMYYl-EzMwYiUu8TyKjLA9D2ftG4tdRSJerGzt_G243feAsV3clgYeM/s1600/BestOfIrelandScotland_CliffsOfMoher_Thumb01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="230" data-original-width="323" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM8qSMZK-0mHg6JS-2SV08hi83XgGgTpbopYMsAeUeqkJwZzuLQnMtqAEQ4ZvMJ6Ar9QSYy_ghT0oOPDjA6NlKWMYYl-EzMwYiUu8TyKjLA9D2ftG4tdRSJerGzt_G243feAsV3clgYeM/s320/BestOfIrelandScotland_CliffsOfMoher_Thumb01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">5. I would love my own writing space. Okay, I'd love my own library that could double as a writing space. I don't necessarily need a desk, just someplace comfy I can sit with my laptop.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF43Q50hQTWcc0y5iMQ1NDKe8ksfogCox5ySuMDJl5W1PVshBmoJDsRTzWpUZA0XfEvkNibugzuUKhFmQSKNJbRP_ovdgt6RS9YvuJfBLqrQdktkODFfQQB8UZ5Gb6wR8yvHc8HgM4-Tk/s1600/23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="644" data-original-width="540" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF43Q50hQTWcc0y5iMQ1NDKe8ksfogCox5ySuMDJl5W1PVshBmoJDsRTzWpUZA0XfEvkNibugzuUKhFmQSKNJbRP_ovdgt6RS9YvuJfBLqrQdktkODFfQQB8UZ5Gb6wR8yvHc8HgM4-Tk/s320/23.jpg" width="268" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">6. A writer's retreat. Someplace I could go and invite my writer pals and we could relax and talk and write. And we could do this as long as we'd like, as often as we'd like.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-6kah9e90uzEn3aVugi23SzL6xTmi0kzmYoiPZRv675OEpKGUbE2VsZRj3G_ZAfL6_oXVJ8eH4yfZto_yp4vpt237y_3DS-A6gO4JNBShGPXEroKn2ITRmlke0fxAc6v62JVDonI2d8A/s1600/hqdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-6kah9e90uzEn3aVugi23SzL6xTmi0kzmYoiPZRv675OEpKGUbE2VsZRj3G_ZAfL6_oXVJ8eH4yfZto_yp4vpt237y_3DS-A6gO4JNBShGPXEroKn2ITRmlke0fxAc6v62JVDonI2d8A/s320/hqdefault.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">7. The ability to edit my own work. I do an okay job, since I'm not in love with every single word I write. I don't imagine that the first draft is Pulitzer Prize material so I don't find it difficult to cut parts out or move sections or even delete the whole beginning of a book to rewrite it. I just wish I had the ability to look at the piece with the eye of someone who'd never seen it and then spot all the problems.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">8. Time management abilities. Because right now it's almost 10 and I haven't worked at all on my book, but instead have written this blog post, and looked up pictures, and listened to a book, and cuddled my kitten. You get the idea.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihprcOelkSCGfUDYTCMTSFDYLLkgZbNxxgF-qdQFYzVfxZuQFJZUvD7arG26IKksP5pVf7bWvnCbWOiuPO9k4NJEQxnEUVQ_ikaJsymPZg5Trb3ukwY9hHrYSh4jYHcZmF8n8MsR6FHpc/s1600/maxresdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihprcOelkSCGfUDYTCMTSFDYLLkgZbNxxgF-qdQFYzVfxZuQFJZUvD7arG26IKksP5pVf7bWvnCbWOiuPO9k4NJEQxnEUVQ_ikaJsymPZg5Trb3ukwY9hHrYSh4jYHcZmF8n8MsR6FHpc/s320/maxresdefault.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I bet you thought I was going to add a picture of a kitten. Ha! You were wrong.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">9. A personal assistant. I'd think a PA would keep me on task, remind me of things I need to do, and supply me with coffee or tea. At least, that's what I hope a PA would do.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgux3f503hdM1zkAADSJvd2xahrzEg1cJeSiDrEkejqZma_zbo_RnmzXQx4E8v72fZRAq6gIdCCTT1AIVWGWEg-X3H8GwZT7Onmk9w_VNjgctRlcSS6br0IKReyzzzE3_VUuLb8sc-UWS8/s1600/6391afff2f684cc31c2d6e06f2102479--guys-with-tattoos-tattoo-guys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="920" data-original-width="736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgux3f503hdM1zkAADSJvd2xahrzEg1cJeSiDrEkejqZma_zbo_RnmzXQx4E8v72fZRAq6gIdCCTT1AIVWGWEg-X3H8GwZT7Onmk9w_VNjgctRlcSS6br0IKReyzzzE3_VUuLb8sc-UWS8/s320/6391afff2f684cc31c2d6e06f2102479--guys-with-tattoos-tattoo-guys.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">And there he is, my fabulous PA. Yep, working hard and keeping me on task.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">10. More time. Because it wouldn't be almost 10:30 and I'd have more than this blog post written. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">If anyone is able to gift me with just one of my top 10, I would love you forever. I'd even write an amazing kick ass book with you as the hero or heroine. See, that's love.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now go and see what <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/blog/?p=4762" target="_blank">Jessica</a>, <a href="http://bronwyngreenblog.com/2017/12/06/top-10-gifts-for-writers" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a>, <a href="http://krisnorris.ca/wordpress/?p=1456" target="_blank">Kris</a>, and <a href="http://authorpaigeprince.com/blog/" target="_blank">Paige</a> want as presents. </span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-87161819570905423392017-11-29T09:00:00.000-05:002017-11-29T09:00:51.423-05:003 WISHES!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggBjm4e0Q1YJdwnqTC-Ql1MYyzXRwq3w-ELzX47990gceFiw6ERPwYjfKuibalkZ_Q_tsjd9Bm7-qLQCiouTMAGc-k2yhyphenhyphent1dP3zUwhcJJ5iRolgzM81ThUZzLbM1Zax_7sgZ0umjQ2Q0/s1600/genie1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="324" data-original-width="576" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggBjm4e0Q1YJdwnqTC-Ql1MYyzXRwq3w-ELzX47990gceFiw6ERPwYjfKuibalkZ_Q_tsjd9Bm7-qLQCiouTMAGc-k2yhyphenhyphent1dP3zUwhcJJ5iRolgzM81ThUZzLbM1Zax_7sgZ0umjQ2Q0/s400/genie1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The topic today is: A genie grants you 3 wishes for your writing career - what are they and why.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And don't we wish it was just that easy?!! Anyway, if I could have 3 wishes for my writing career they would be:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. I wish that I was able to just sit and write. And this doesn't mean, I need time. No, it means that when I sit with the computer I don't "discover' a million other things to do. Perhaps, it would be easier if I didn't have the evil Internet, which offers up such wonders as kitty videos and sites to buy books. I know this should be "easy," but believe me, it isn't. My mind doesn't work that way, So, my wish would be to make my mind focus in on work instead of cute cat videos.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfkTRLO_YcLA-0BWqDIZetqOTY5HZTMi1DKGSAPYdrjvzbqUhKuEkzm7IJZbd3y9EXmxUsUlX7SpYuOVRXa2hXCqJYCzn7_URbAbPAYvz867To274HJsNK_Vh9ZfmFAxDk1mrO8yFc50Q/s1600/KITTEN+GIF+%25E2%2580%25A2+Cute+Kitty+is+very+interested+by+human+moves+Whatcha+doing+Such+a+snuzzy+face.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfkTRLO_YcLA-0BWqDIZetqOTY5HZTMi1DKGSAPYdrjvzbqUhKuEkzm7IJZbd3y9EXmxUsUlX7SpYuOVRXa2hXCqJYCzn7_URbAbPAYvz867To274HJsNK_Vh9ZfmFAxDk1mrO8yFc50Q/s320/KITTEN+GIF+%25E2%2580%25A2+Cute+Kitty+is+very+interested+by+human+moves+Whatcha+doing+Such+a+snuzzy+face.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. My second wish would be that the first draft could be perfect. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSWN4eqiE4CYQTBTdSFYEsmtkXlCDpgWRScrCcPsOtbOFOl6RdGr6vIyAVTSdJ4BmZLy1q5b8MJmlOemxof6oElkYsqE2CL_Q3uIjvwVB-ZBm15gGF6n3q6vhf7DAi9RZ6i3WQxkpC-JM/s1600/7965825.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="165" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSWN4eqiE4CYQTBTdSFYEsmtkXlCDpgWRScrCcPsOtbOFOl6RdGr6vIyAVTSdJ4BmZLy1q5b8MJmlOemxof6oElkYsqE2CL_Q3uIjvwVB-ZBm15gGF6n3q6vhf7DAi9RZ6i3WQxkpC-JM/s1600/7965825.gif" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yeah, I know, but these are magic wishes, so I wish that my very first draft would be exactly the way the book turns out, after I slave over it for months and month. Wait, years and years. Whatever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. My final wish is I would actually have a writing career. BUT, that I could publish books on my own that would sell and I didn't have to go through a publisher. I've self-pubbed and quite enjoyed the freedom it gave me so my final wish would be to build up a large following as a self-pubbed author.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNGq4ei68lJGKdt3jL0c9iPrYFggPPFID2isbht7rMMuBPLFZOAeBurlr-t6sfTtgCz7PFrtEdiUVBnWt_sdhoh20DbPjnqQCiYrqZn9WIEQL_bLqgsaJy1twZHRJQjyDPwTK7gYd9f_E/s1600/original.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="490" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNGq4ei68lJGKdt3jL0c9iPrYFggPPFID2isbht7rMMuBPLFZOAeBurlr-t6sfTtgCz7PFrtEdiUVBnWt_sdhoh20DbPjnqQCiYrqZn9WIEQL_bLqgsaJy1twZHRJQjyDPwTK7gYd9f_E/s320/original.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you don't know, that's the huge crowd rushing to buy my books. Or, something. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now go and check out what <a href="http://bronwyngreenblog.com/2017/11/29/a-genie-grants-me-three-wishes-for-my-writing-career-what-are-they" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a> and <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/blog/?p=4757" target="_blank">Jessica</a>'s wishes are. Oh, and if you're feeling it, leave me a comment telling me what your wish would be.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-5803707030240880092017-11-24T09:00:00.000-05:002017-11-24T20:44:49.128-05:00NOVEMBER CHECK-IN<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsivl-ZWowdiUsNVJuudp12eQVH6kHZY2OKAWtWrv9WaNjPkLdU2U1IYGvb-bBwo4kvD90bFOKA-6OF7t11V1jvBvQTvwce7-Sw2DtAVmb9vweJfExT8kHJL8wC2waZaSVt9VYAoJ7ZNA/s1600/MonthlyCheck-in.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="450" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsivl-ZWowdiUsNVJuudp12eQVH6kHZY2OKAWtWrv9WaNjPkLdU2U1IYGvb-bBwo4kvD90bFOKA-6OF7t11V1jvBvQTvwce7-Sw2DtAVmb9vweJfExT8kHJL8wC2waZaSVt9VYAoJ7ZNA/s320/MonthlyCheck-in.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well the year is almost over and this is only the 3rd time I've done a monthly check-in. I will stay positive though and say I've actually written a monthly check-in 3 times!! Woooo!!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBd7fI07kLj2P9cArxj1RvoY0t8F98BVWcObXPM-GmP_RV7t_-VnlFRPwwBIldYPsQZo7YkihtUcnz0XLrR7uWwYcOw2pUkwo-LDfwKX5GVU1sUPKVjUT2zJ5IacXKlgJMYloDyh3yIXM/s1600/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="360" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBd7fI07kLj2P9cArxj1RvoY0t8F98BVWcObXPM-GmP_RV7t_-VnlFRPwwBIldYPsQZo7YkihtUcnz0XLrR7uWwYcOw2pUkwo-LDfwKX5GVU1sUPKVjUT2zJ5IacXKlgJMYloDyh3yIXM/s320/giphy.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, I didn't have goals for the month because I'm really not organized, but I can tell you what I've accomplished. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My daytime job is really fun, but it takes a ton of time. Most days I work 10 or so hours and don't get home until 7:30 or 8:00, which doesn't leave a bunch of time. But I did manage to blog 3 . . . now 4 times this month. Even thought I've had a heavy schedule I've blogged fairly consistently each month. So I'm really pumped about that.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The next accomplishment for this month is self-care. Because I work so much, I find that I don't have much time. For anything. I decided to take a much needed vacation this month. Currently, I'm on my 8th day off. I know, I can't believe it either. During this long break, I've knitted and napped and listened to music and read and goofed off with my sister and wrote. It has been the very best. Oh, and did I mention I napped???</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5u_0UkulEIhNVQO-gFXSF9rlCogKdf6EI5yA3sAWhfZ59Fe9qK0v9DRC8giP4-yX03fR_VQp4IOsc8MM2VBqzHlbJVApqvb6vtX8tXSNykuHVj6tvdwdNcKrXVYYIvEDuOBl9yLvL6U/s1600/giphy+%25281%2529.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="201" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5u_0UkulEIhNVQO-gFXSF9rlCogKdf6EI5yA3sAWhfZ59Fe9qK0v9DRC8giP4-yX03fR_VQp4IOsc8MM2VBqzHlbJVApqvb6vtX8tXSNykuHVj6tvdwdNcKrXVYYIvEDuOBl9yLvL6U/s1600/giphy+%25281%2529.gif" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My final big accomplishment is writing. I have actually been working on Entangled. I'm rereading it to pull myself back into the story and beginning to fix some things and odd some things. So yeah, I'm pumped about that. It's a really good story and I love the characters so I want to finish it so other people can love it too. I plan on writing The End by the end of this year. It won't take much since I have over 65k already. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMt9aP8Nj8oG4knUW8zRnvOC5D6io2UQF6hw_ItGQQ4hAIvrw-Dv_1FfucH4CUX9GmXZoDLMMv71-a46ca6oY35hDl1TFVTCrrwAVfvICJYlfeamqyYgAwV2IjxTW7bYieSEBd7MqjxeU/s1600/tumblr_m9010sXDqf1qdhag9o1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="500" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMt9aP8Nj8oG4knUW8zRnvOC5D6io2UQF6hw_ItGQQ4hAIvrw-Dv_1FfucH4CUX9GmXZoDLMMv71-a46ca6oY35hDl1TFVTCrrwAVfvICJYlfeamqyYgAwV2IjxTW7bYieSEBd7MqjxeU/s320/tumblr_m9010sXDqf1qdhag9o1_500.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Check out what <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/blog/?p=4755" target="_blank">Jessica</a> and </span><a href="http://bronwyngreenblog.com/2017/11/24/monthly-goals-check-in-november-2017" style="font-size: x-large;" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a><span style="font-size: large;">'s been up to this month. </span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-59533580458295141392017-11-22T09:00:00.000-05:002017-11-22T09:00:25.080-05:00I'M THANKFUL FOR . . . <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigq9KfZRCfiQQowhWxfGmTQwZdtU_TL5_RZ1p2FaJDTD4N_L1tMx6W9VJoxUF7V2rjonbK3bf8w52KfUmwD-SuOBX15SgCi_HguxBvg7kespEsl0QOY9p4Yn9tvNTdHYIR-M1S9R_alBA/s1600/thankful.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="251" data-original-width="600" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigq9KfZRCfiQQowhWxfGmTQwZdtU_TL5_RZ1p2FaJDTD4N_L1tMx6W9VJoxUF7V2rjonbK3bf8w52KfUmwD-SuOBX15SgCi_HguxBvg7kespEsl0QOY9p4Yn9tvNTdHYIR-M1S9R_alBA/s400/thankful.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">I cannot believe that Thanksgiving is tomorrow!! This entire year has flown by so fast. And, as it has mostly sucked, I thought it would be good for me to sit and actually write out what I'm thankful for. The exercise will remind me that, no matter what, there's still good stuff happening. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As always, these are in no particular order:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The first thankful I have is my sister. I cannot imagine my life without her. She's my best friend, confidant, partner-in-crime . . and partner-in-wine. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoIAWAb8uWEIRPKi-0TW2EZQLIVVy5OGiolcH3ycKdJym0O-0H4FEEYpI9KnusYo05ch9x4ADkvCBs6GNsLKAP7inirb0AfBJNb-cHNZdt-3xfZElW-JyCy1ke0LLLikvgYgq6xkF4AT0/s1600/me+jude+lady+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="915" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoIAWAb8uWEIRPKi-0TW2EZQLIVVy5OGiolcH3ycKdJym0O-0H4FEEYpI9KnusYo05ch9x4ADkvCBs6GNsLKAP7inirb0AfBJNb-cHNZdt-3xfZElW-JyCy1ke0LLLikvgYgq6xkF4AT0/s320/me+jude+lady+001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My second thankful are all my friends.Whether I see you all the time, occasionally, or hardly at all know that I am so glad to have you in my life. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibneOflWd0hAIjW7adQ6WOHpoRT3G6vpe57ve7HD4C0pkbULPrBfwOwBrQea6Af9lDdmS0BK5HEW2e7V4gWqz20e3X6KKYzDzp7znlHp6f7Np77nRavVG-tPWizdbcSFqQhqrQwziYneY/s1600/be-happy-no-thankful-173059-530-353_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="500" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibneOflWd0hAIjW7adQ6WOHpoRT3G6vpe57ve7HD4C0pkbULPrBfwOwBrQea6Af9lDdmS0BK5HEW2e7V4gWqz20e3X6KKYzDzp7znlHp6f7Np77nRavVG-tPWizdbcSFqQhqrQwziYneY/s320/be-happy-no-thankful-173059-530-353_large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My next thankful, is my amazing daytime job. I love it and not because I have my own office, my own business cards, and my very own work cell phone. Nope, it's because it's an amazing organization and the people are . . . well, amazing.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLfsuXjla5lEoPOc58ADzuVTwOASe_Rp97A8zbnALIHInToeGJiNYj1Zk5ixfJPIQ8oTuwIgrpDpvekOGcK9zz-EkPB7QVMGYNHfpRhtfqF48K2rPiCL3q5okz19aczvjv3DPW30PrDaU/s1600/5af573efab3e78640ec018b7a5a4b85f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="374" data-original-width="532" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLfsuXjla5lEoPOc58ADzuVTwOASe_Rp97A8zbnALIHInToeGJiNYj1Zk5ixfJPIQ8oTuwIgrpDpvekOGcK9zz-EkPB7QVMGYNHfpRhtfqF48K2rPiCL3q5okz19aczvjv3DPW30PrDaU/s320/5af573efab3e78640ec018b7a5a4b85f.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Next, I'm thankful for my health. Yeah, I know, how sappy, but it's true. I'm able to get up everyday to go and do what I want. I know people who aren't able to do that. So, I'm really lucky.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcFu7kz9LvbsKgppNbegvw5qlGOUyvpDz-Q7pAziavhFySwicjaTkbgGEO_SoID_Wac70KJCSLynTo3omY6H-gevl3ZJRxq4Y5PSj-v0EVfcLoPKp2zt4y7cGtEwDJKQ2vTi5lUwUfNzs/s1600/d379828928e5e5daef23291058d96311--being-thankful-quotes-thankful-for.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="920" data-original-width="736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcFu7kz9LvbsKgppNbegvw5qlGOUyvpDz-Q7pAziavhFySwicjaTkbgGEO_SoID_Wac70KJCSLynTo3omY6H-gevl3ZJRxq4Y5PSj-v0EVfcLoPKp2zt4y7cGtEwDJKQ2vTi5lUwUfNzs/s320/d379828928e5e5daef23291058d96311--being-thankful-quotes-thankful-for.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm very thankful for my cat, Maeve. When I'm down or feeling a bit blue, she's always up for snuggles and kisses. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizyUYYlU52y5f-3C03pf2OCrzqeywBr7fxJW_aczhrT6F7-9bogV0GQQr0mqNvSUfvpd9JQIRPmltYmpp0y9WvPlKa6nxOfQ6KIlW2YFc26hzNfYRIn-68avEJpEdIuBVBHcZvTIdR9VI/s1600/IMG_1860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizyUYYlU52y5f-3C03pf2OCrzqeywBr7fxJW_aczhrT6F7-9bogV0GQQr0mqNvSUfvpd9JQIRPmltYmpp0y9WvPlKa6nxOfQ6KIlW2YFc26hzNfYRIn-68avEJpEdIuBVBHcZvTIdR9VI/s320/IMG_1860.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm thankful that my doctor has finally, finally helped me get my depression under control. Now, will it be like this forever? I know it won't since depression is like any chronic illness. It needs to be monitored and I need to be more aware, but right now I'm out of the hole and feeling better.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjikqhlsFvxWdTS6nF_cnmSXzMSWIgl0E6YD4k33iRK7A9KSxUq3CQZyOSCdk4PrWmWE0xPvNx1At6h9wtdJWVzGs73YU0ZHTrrHrm5BuOM_bRKdpRE7UwdylJNleyIoOyCxd2hzEewz7I/s1600/large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="443" data-original-width="442" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjikqhlsFvxWdTS6nF_cnmSXzMSWIgl0E6YD4k33iRK7A9KSxUq3CQZyOSCdk4PrWmWE0xPvNx1At6h9wtdJWVzGs73YU0ZHTrrHrm5BuOM_bRKdpRE7UwdylJNleyIoOyCxd2hzEewz7I/s320/large.jpg" width="319" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Which leads me to my next thankful, no matter how long I've ignored my writing, it's there for me. I've started working again and I can say that feels good.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkG6yi8JpDh4yPdapyvcNe7huUoP8Y3Gi6xVL8Zavhz9QwtWyTc3-JVRnG30YP_HMIu5mscChhIpr9vQyGnu6Shc5o8iRPRpZGju-g0J6snzLN6QW4kwilp2EQjamzinWUvFufV2g92XI/s1600/melodybeattie1-2x.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1200" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkG6yi8JpDh4yPdapyvcNe7huUoP8Y3Gi6xVL8Zavhz9QwtWyTc3-JVRnG30YP_HMIu5mscChhIpr9vQyGnu6Shc5o8iRPRpZGju-g0J6snzLN6QW4kwilp2EQjamzinWUvFufV2g92XI/s320/melodybeattie1-2x.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">No go and check out what <a href="http://bronwyngreenblog.com/2017/11/22/im-thankful-for-3" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a> and <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/blog/?p=4753" target="_blank">Jessica</a> are thankful for.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-23181694896191712432017-11-06T09:00:00.000-05:002017-11-06T09:00:02.756-05:00NOVEMBER PHOTO FLASH FICTION<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwP9CELo7ISkdB6RAv_nJnaSATEAGUbKRKnNla5nnevaO0YpW-Qe5c3YfwOgKYWHMoscAAWN88h3WQ-I4J2Xttp1IK3wr9_sGWbWb6y_eiMkIBwYSsEpBQqiKAvnyeqe2iHVcNl_LWY2U/s1600/FlashFicPHOTO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="450" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwP9CELo7ISkdB6RAv_nJnaSATEAGUbKRKnNla5nnevaO0YpW-Qe5c3YfwOgKYWHMoscAAWN88h3WQ-I4J2Xttp1IK3wr9_sGWbWb6y_eiMkIBwYSsEpBQqiKAvnyeqe2iHVcNl_LWY2U/s400/FlashFicPHOTO.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibk2u0EePZhs08vcoRUXA_1UWp0Rs2tNIrJ7SEgW-O_4X-OnP2mxKg3tc4p7GiB9Xe2gQCgJZlCtUsGYlKbI_lNuYQHVd1BCkELJtb3YvPWXo5LswCcK1g1Mme8shnuK-WkuFNHgp9zBQ/s1600/11-2017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="299" data-original-width="450" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibk2u0EePZhs08vcoRUXA_1UWp0Rs2tNIrJ7SEgW-O_4X-OnP2mxKg3tc4p7GiB9Xe2gQCgJZlCtUsGYlKbI_lNuYQHVd1BCkELJtb3YvPWXo5LswCcK1g1Mme8shnuK-WkuFNHgp9zBQ/s400/11-2017.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Welcome to November's photo flash fiction. I really love the pic this month and I hope you enjoy what I did with it. The whole scene kind of popped into my head. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The lake
looked dark and sullen, just like my mood. I pulled the hooded sweater tighter
around me and stared out at the water. Low clouds hung in the sky and my senses
told me it would rain, soon. Great, I could predict the weather. Go me. It
certainly didn’t help the situation I found myself in. Telling someone it would
soon rain, wasn’t going to solve the problem.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The problem,
which happened to be the large mountain looming across the lake, and, truly,
that wasn’t the problem. No, my family was the problem. Members of said family
did stupid shit and expected someone, namely me, to get them out of the problem
that they, themselves, had created. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I had two
choices. I could tell my idiot brother to get himself out of his latest
situation, which would probably lead to his death. Or, I could take on the job
to save his worthless ass and, maybe, die in the bargain. Yeah, neither option
was looking real good. Though, if I had to choose, I’d certainly pick me over
him any day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Raisa.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I turned to
watch my mother pick her way across the leaf strewn ground in her three inch
heels. I forced myself not to move, when all I really wanted to do was turn and
walk away. At one time, I’d convinced myself that she loved me and just couldn’t
show it. I knew that was a lie. She loved herself and my brother. Really
half-brother, since she’d screwed around on my father and gotten pregnant. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Georgi is
scared,” she said. “You have to help him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">No please,
no asking, just an order as if she truly believed I would fall into line. I
should fall into line. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“His problem
isn’t my problem,” I said. “I warned him about getting involved with the Semenov
family, but he didn’t listen. Instead, he not only got involved, but stole from
them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“He is your
brother. How dare you get up onto some kind of high horse and imagine you’re
better than him.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I spun on
her. “I am. I’d never put myself into the situations he does. And, if I did, I
wouldn’t run to my mommy and expect someone else to take care of them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her hand
slashed out and caught me across the face. My cheek stung, but I didn’t press
my hand to my face. I didn’t move. I just watched her for a long moment.
Finally, I spoke.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“If you hit
me again, it will be the last thing you ever do. I promise you that. And, from
this moment, he’s not my brother, as you aren’t my mother.” I held up my hand
as she opened her mouth to speak. “I will do this one last job because Georgi’s
idiocy has put a taint on my reputation in the city. Once I complete it, I am
done. I’m done with you and I’m done with him. Never, ever, approach me again.
Do you understand?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“How dare
you speak to me like that?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“I will
speak to you any way I wish. Now, do you understand and agree to leave me the
hell alone if I do this job? Yes or no.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Yes,” she
said, through gritted teeth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“That’s
good. Now go and let the Semenov’s know I’ve agreed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She turned
and without another word left. I knew she would. Georgi was her golden boy. No
matter how many fuck ups and how much trouble he got into, he could do no
wrong. And, once this job was finished, I was done with him and her. Of course,
that was contingent on me living. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone in
the Guild willingly attempting to steal from a dragon. I apparently was the
first and, possibly, the last. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I stared
across the lake at the mountain that was my objective. If I was going to do it,
I needed to get ready. No sense putting it off. Turning, I walked back toward
my small house, knowing, in my gut, that my life was going to change. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now, go and see what <a href="http://bronwyngreenblog.com/2017/11/06/flash-fiction-69-girl-by-the-pond" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a>, <a href="http://krisnorris.ca/wordpress/?p=1437&preview=true" target="_blank">Kris</a> and <a href="https://www.siobhanmuir.com/siobhans-blog/flashfiction-creek-edge" target="_blank">Siobhan</a> did with it.</span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-83338825485917910002017-11-01T09:00:00.000-04:002017-11-01T09:00:17.286-04:00TOP 10 THINGS I BELIEVE TO BE TRUE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHsFQit84ha6yQ2PTM2R05pXWHZ_LO1zOx4mCfnr1Il9v26Kznr3RYRn7BNtH4SMLO9o4Fw_LFzRtCm26xJAzXAvcMAPiJ-6O5EOQwCKM8nphtVkp6x7P05-XfgNCwrhNqclQrQSrligU/s1600/Top10-11NOV.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="409" data-original-width="641" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHsFQit84ha6yQ2PTM2R05pXWHZ_LO1zOx4mCfnr1Il9v26Kznr3RYRn7BNtH4SMLO9o4Fw_LFzRtCm26xJAzXAvcMAPiJ-6O5EOQwCKM8nphtVkp6x7P05-XfgNCwrhNqclQrQSrligU/s400/Top10-11NOV.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Can y'all believe it's November already?? Yeah, me neither, but here we are and with a top 10 I can get into. This month we're writing about things we believe to be true. Now, I don't profess to know a bunch of stuff, but you can TOTALLY bank on the fact that my list is all true. As always, these are in no particular order. So here goes.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">1. No matter how sweet and amazing and loving cats are. They are still assholes. I have one, I know.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTdMSY1nySRSJIbtp9YtKfkUVWUYrCut0Vkii3O7hXG62QWbZfPlQl8gRUbmHbjsri2zDmeHyFutKtYEh0fAbr2vF8TempE3c8gZGxuMOiG8A26D4HB39CYZM9r3V-_O2NvaxrfDyHtc8/s1600/rx4bw-knock2.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="348" data-original-width="382" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTdMSY1nySRSJIbtp9YtKfkUVWUYrCut0Vkii3O7hXG62QWbZfPlQl8gRUbmHbjsri2zDmeHyFutKtYEh0fAbr2vF8TempE3c8gZGxuMOiG8A26D4HB39CYZM9r3V-_O2NvaxrfDyHtc8/s320/rx4bw-knock2.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">2. Fall is the greatest time of year. The colors are gorgeous and it's the gateway to all the best holidays.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz54YaT3F7hOFBwkCcH1rpICRzv1fG_udN0X1EpD9rJAdixYQe-1KHxMTW34qJA3ZsaZiSYAeS8ERo1cC_ncWx8-Sqtnv84Tv2BXgID2_0zjHtswdZbOFfzWnezTpbWzFzs3imrqE5-o4/s1600/636095925276772401-952315342_orange-and-red-autumn-forest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz54YaT3F7hOFBwkCcH1rpICRzv1fG_udN0X1EpD9rJAdixYQe-1KHxMTW34qJA3ZsaZiSYAeS8ERo1cC_ncWx8-Sqtnv84Tv2BXgID2_0zjHtswdZbOFfzWnezTpbWzFzs3imrqE5-o4/s320/636095925276772401-952315342_orange-and-red-autumn-forest.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">3. Lin-Manuel Miranda is a freaking genius!!! If you haven't listened to Hamilton or seen any interviews from LMM then you are missing out. The man is AH-MAZING! Oh and he's handsome too.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn9D-UjQjPbLtErm9nfsroJ3e_8T2Ui9uiOGSnfptx6GZyfi6-wvHC-_vKrF0P1pmuMexbd-q7QTvHjnUYEJCVGFKRwsxSmpstsUm1verquI4thRvWrxdMfNn1hyFNY0Xi9pwlsRuKJZw/s1600/rs-243008-lin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="394" data-original-width="700" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn9D-UjQjPbLtErm9nfsroJ3e_8T2Ui9uiOGSnfptx6GZyfi6-wvHC-_vKrF0P1pmuMexbd-q7QTvHjnUYEJCVGFKRwsxSmpstsUm1verquI4thRvWrxdMfNn1hyFNY0Xi9pwlsRuKJZw/s320/rs-243008-lin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">4. Slavery caused the Civil War. I'm a teacher, I have 3 degrees, and I've read on this subject extensively. Civil War = Slavery.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">5. The current president of the U.S. is a lying sack of shit. He wouldn't know the truth if he tripped over it and it bit him in the ass. He's also dumb as a sack of hammers.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">6. Climate change is real!!!! Science has proven it. Human beings have had a huge hand in causing the issues our planet is having. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">7. There is no one true religion As long as people mind their own, are good and kind, then we should all live together peacefully. Unfortunately, there are a bunch of crazies out there, mostly men, who proclaim that what they believe is the truth. Yeah, they're wrong. If you are killing people for a religion then you aren't understanding what the religion is about. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">8 Jason Momoa is a god. And my future baby's daddy. Just wanted to share.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGtI5radiDtVUnNatUZjlsGRiW6FiTUgdYfT9Rj2luyH5ZSPm8rMxQ07DxMMVkOVBbN3xc3b-duK78_RGFF4f5AeN-xf7Zqb9A2JQ08wJsg8mAQWSJv8UHibqBrLmHT6ferJAG44cklEs/s1600/22687547_1494844873935822_8649260817000509989_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="589" data-original-width="591" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGtI5radiDtVUnNatUZjlsGRiW6FiTUgdYfT9Rj2luyH5ZSPm8rMxQ07DxMMVkOVBbN3xc3b-duK78_RGFF4f5AeN-xf7Zqb9A2JQ08wJsg8mAQWSJv8UHibqBrLmHT6ferJAG44cklEs/s320/22687547_1494844873935822_8649260817000509989_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">9. No one can make someone happy. Each person must make themselves happy. If you aren't happy in your life, getting into a relationship will not change that. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">10. Keeping a good sense of humor is the only way to survive. If you can't laugh then crying is all that's left.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now go see what <a href="http://bronwyngreenblog.com/2017/11/01/top-10-things-i-believe-to-be-true" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a>, <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/blog/?p=4741" target="_blank">Jessica</a>, <a href="http://krisnorris.ca/wordpress/?p=1426&preview=true" target="_blank">Kris</a>, and <a href="http://www.deelylah.com/things-i-believe-to-be-true/" target="_blank">Deelylah</a> believe to be true. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-43115664568528136082017-10-18T09:00:00.000-04:002017-10-18T09:00:20.130-04:00WORDLESS WEDNESDAY - AUTUMN WHERE I LIVE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKmdAEROOJKRPPXqwXiWfiZ6O0pbpbhTYexELJlLFN0ORElfxR9yf2HS4sfphSvx9xLJZPvquIlTHKNyWiPp2Usan8w2k8GIqNPwBELsBf6gYY7oAsOl0h-Sx91qqoLeC5-1FDWJcPcII/s1600/WordlessWed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKmdAEROOJKRPPXqwXiWfiZ6O0pbpbhTYexELJlLFN0ORElfxR9yf2HS4sfphSvx9xLJZPvquIlTHKNyWiPp2Usan8w2k8GIqNPwBELsBf6gYY7oAsOl0h-Sx91qqoLeC5-1FDWJcPcII/s400/WordlessWed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As always, I have to chat since Wordless and me do not go together. I wish I could show you Autumn as it's been in other years here. You know, the traditional gorgeous colors? Yeah, not this year. We had a real lack of rain during the summer, which the weather people say is what makes the colors. This year our "Autumn" has been warm . . . warm and sunny, just like our summer.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiz0UrnDnQgW716Jm71OFTK-HjzDE_DSGT5xVvy7S57K7SeEb00F6Wj5jm6Mt3W7E8sB5lrubXLVCrr_gSG0KW0kH5IJ23NqZhtNGNnZwMLiflflrG02CB9xTy4kXAZ95P_nC1bhMboy8/s1600/IMG_1955.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiz0UrnDnQgW716Jm71OFTK-HjzDE_DSGT5xVvy7S57K7SeEb00F6Wj5jm6Mt3W7E8sB5lrubXLVCrr_gSG0KW0kH5IJ23NqZhtNGNnZwMLiflflrG02CB9xTy4kXAZ95P_nC1bhMboy8/s320/IMG_1955.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAb7bGRg_Ydl4Ug_uSUNoabQI7RoPRkffCjE1765FUypYDugk4Qi6pjh6a3dmU_G95oQkckM0aEwK-6AsJze3Zx7M1hOR-ISEhi7uI_NAwrAzIZ6_60X7p514PQti3imlN1XP7C3LoRPk/s1600/IMG_1977.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAb7bGRg_Ydl4Ug_uSUNoabQI7RoPRkffCjE1765FUypYDugk4Qi6pjh6a3dmU_G95oQkckM0aEwK-6AsJze3Zx7M1hOR-ISEhi7uI_NAwrAzIZ6_60X7p514PQti3imlN1XP7C3LoRPk/s320/IMG_1977.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSTq167ywaYCgtplLJ-7XGfWDSzoEeEFdaaewN2s7osAEuayOd5ILYMLkx_2ANPpeaJtP6mUMTrJlJFRSKL3B-Vk0FinmF_ubkrAuK-hNV6yxhBS1-jFlogg_X4PVxCvdGM31pKENPSqk/s1600/IMG_1978.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSTq167ywaYCgtplLJ-7XGfWDSzoEeEFdaaewN2s7osAEuayOd5ILYMLkx_2ANPpeaJtP6mUMTrJlJFRSKL3B-Vk0FinmF_ubkrAuK-hNV6yxhBS1-jFlogg_X4PVxCvdGM31pKENPSqk/s320/IMG_1978.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now go and view <a href="http://bronwyngreenblog.com/2017/10/18/wordless-wednesday-autumn-where-i-live" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a>, <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/blog/?p=4735" target="_blank">Jessica</a> and <a href="http://authorpaigeprince.com/?p=1711" target="_blank">Paige</a>'s pics. Let's hope their pics are prettier than mine.</span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6122207622951831653.post-81804308577776730282017-10-16T09:00:00.000-04:002017-10-16T21:57:37.254-04:00OCTOBER SONG FLASH FICTION - CALL ME CRAZY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGf1OJn-9vxdpvUjCy05_Mysacr3IipVkEYr67-u_1zq2ER7jXyOYHMYjCSqveRk2e7eBsgmYd_8LZKzAV3vYCM0aV6bDhCuV1Kl-V6Uzzc5H5DajHiSRc5Y4QKcogzPVivDtI9ua_ejA/s1600/FlashFicSONG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="232" data-original-width="450" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGf1OJn-9vxdpvUjCy05_Mysacr3IipVkEYr67-u_1zq2ER7jXyOYHMYjCSqveRk2e7eBsgmYd_8LZKzAV3vYCM0aV6bDhCuV1Kl-V6Uzzc5H5DajHiSRc5Y4QKcogzPVivDtI9ua_ejA/s400/FlashFicSONG.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The song this month is Call Me Crazy by Travis Collins. As it is a country song I have no clue who this guy is, but I did come up with a story to go with it. Go me. If you're curious here's the song:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/uMuWmnLsiI8" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And here's the <a href="https://www.last.fm/music/Travis+Collins/_/Call+Me+Crazy/+lyrics" target="_blank">lyrics</a></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When I first heard it, my first thought was, "Damn, what a downer." Then this idea began to form and I saw a video on YouTube about Ghost Brides and BAM there was the story. Hope you like it:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 24.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The Ghost’s
Bride<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Emma stared at herself in the warped mirror and still couldn’t
believe her situation. All she’d wanted was a vacation. Okay, not just a
vacation, but an experience. Something she’d remember for the rest of her life.
Because of this wish, she’d chosen Asia for her destination since she’d always
been drawn to the different Asian traditions. Now she stood, swathed in a long
red dress, ready to take part in a sacred tradition. Or, at least, that’s what
her captors had claimed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What had started out as a beautiful day exploring the
country side had turned, literally, into a nightmare. One moment she’d stopped
to speak to an elderly woman at an outdoor market and the next . . . well hell
she wasn’t sure. The woman had given her a sample of tea to drink and then,
after that, nothing. Not until she’d woken up in an unfamiliar room. An
unfamiliar locked room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Panic overwhelmed her at finding the door and windows
locked. Gasping for breath, she’d sat and put her head between her legs. Sweat
oozed down her face and back as she shook. Ah, panic attack, my old friend, she’d
thought. I really hadn’t missed you. She’d finally gotten herself calmed when
the door opened and a large group of men and women entered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“What’s going on? Why am I here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">An elderly woman had stepped forward and bowed. “You have
been chosen for a great honor. You are to be the bride of our <i>Tono</i>.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Bride? What the hell? I refuse.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As if that had meant anything to anyone. In no time, Emma
had found herself dressed in a long red gown and locked back in the room she’d
started in. She didn’t know who the tono or whatever was, but as soon as he
arrived she was going to attempt to talk to him. Who, in their right minds,
kidnapped someone so they could be forced into marriage? Wasn’t going to
happen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A different elderly woman entered the room and smiled at
her. “It is time.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Look, I understand that you think this is an honor, but I
don’t. I can’t marry someone because you want me to. I’m just a visitor here. I
need to go home.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Our village owes a debt to our <i>Tono</i>. He has protected us for centuries and to allow him to go long
without a bride is an insult. He will lose face if he is not wed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She stared at Emma with night black eyes, in a small
wrinkled face. Her gray hair was pulled back from her face in an elaborate bun,
dotted with pearls, and her dress looked to be a soft, pink silk. The woman was
certainly dressed for a party.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Centuries? I don’t understand. How can he have protected anything
for centuries?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“All will become clear. Come. Come now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Grabbing Emma by the arm, she guided her out of her prison
and across a small entry hall. The door stood open showing it was night. How
long had she been held? Was it the same day? A day later? If she didn’t make
her flight home, someone would come looking for her. Of course, that didn’t do
her any good now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She tried to yank her arm away, but the woman held on with
an iron grip. The long trailing hem of the gown tangled around Emma’s legs and
she stumbled. The woman huffed out a breath and waited. Emma righted the dress
and used her free hand to hold the hem up. She would not be escaping wearing
what she had on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A large group waited for her and they too were all dressed, in what
she assumed, was their best. They surrounded her and ushered her through a
large intricately carved gate into a garden. They moved down a well-tended path,
lit with small torches. Thank goodness for small miracles, Emma thought, since tripping
and falling would not improve her day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Water whispered over rocks as night birds called in the
trees. Around a bend, a small bridge came into view and they crossed over, to where
the path was wilder. Bushes and flowers crowded on either side and the group
was forced to walk single file with Emma still being towed along by the old
woman. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They broke into a clearing and before them was a large stone
house. Emma couldn’t see much by the light of the moon, but it was bigger and
grander than the brief view she had of the homes in the village. The group stopped
and everyone bowed low. The woman gave a hard tug and Emma too bowed. She wasn’t
sure why, but figured it was easier to go along. Maybe if she acted amenable
they would leave her alone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Together they entered the front door. A huge hearth across
the room held a roaring fire, chasing away the chill in the air. A table near
the fire was set with food, but it only had two chairs. A large bed, swathed in
a red and gold spread, sat on the other side of the fireplace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Someone shut the door and the room fell into silence. Heart
pounding in her ears, Emma searched the dark. Where was the groom? She saw no
one new, just the people who must be the elders of the village. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">One of the men stepped forward and again bowed low, placing a
wreath of lilies and chrysanthemum on a slightly raised rectangular stone
embedded in the floor. The old woman, once again, dragged Emma next to the stone.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Kneel, child,” she directed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Emma folded the skirt of the dress under her and knelt on
the cold stone floor. She placed a hand on the stone to steady herself and
found it oddly warm. As a man began to speak in the local dialect, she studied
the carved piece. It depicted the image of a man, clutching a sword, eyes
closed in rest. No, not rest, death. The stone was some kind of flat headstone.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Looking up, the old woman nodded at her and smiled. Ghost
Bride. She was a ghost bride. Emma almost laughed. She’d seen a video on
YouTube about the custom, but thought it was outlawed. What would happen to
her? Would they try and kill her once it was over? She didn’t think so, since
the video hadn’t mentioned it, but hell who knew? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The man stopped speaking and the group bowed to her and the
stone on the floor. Before she could stand, they exited through the door and
slammed it shut behind them. She pulled the dress until she could get her feet
under her and went to the door. Locked. Of course, it was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Her stomach grumbled and she looked longingly at the food on
the table. She so wanted to eat, but what if it was poisoned? Better not take a chance. Instead, she went over and sat on the bed. The bedding was soft
and smelled of spices, she wasn't sure what, but it was actually pleasant. Wearily, she began to pull the pins from
her hair until it tumbled around her shoulders. Rubbing her face, she tried to
figure out what to do. The outside of the house looked large so there had to be
a way out of the room she was currently in. Maybe if she could, then there’d be
a way out and to freedom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A noise brought her head up. A man stood in front of
the fire place watching her. Emma stifled a scream. He narrowed his eyes and
stepped toward her. She pulled herself onto the bed and scrambled to the far
side.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“What do you want? Who are you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You can see me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">His voice was low, and stupidly, made her think of a purr.
His ink black hair was pulled away from his face and fell down his back in a
waterfall. High cheekbones, full lips, straight nose, and almond eyes completed
the package. The man was handsome. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You can see me,” he said again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Yeah, of course I can. You’re standing right there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Slowly, he smiled and Emma’s heart skipped a beat. Handsome
became devastating. Didn’t matter if he looked like Jason Mamoa, he was part of
the group holding her captive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I am Ryu,” he said, bowing low.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I’m Emma. How did you get in here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“This is my home. I dwell here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I don’t understand. Any of this. Nothing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“How did you come here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I was drugged and kidnapped.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">At his hiss of breath, she felt a bit better. Perhaps he
would help her escape.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“When I woke up I was in the village. A group of women
cleaned me up, fixed me up, and put me in this dress. Then they dragged me here,
said stuff I didn’t understand, and locked me in. Oh wait, one woman did say I
was here to be a bride for some guy named Tono, or something.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“<i>Tono</i>, is not a
name,” he said. “It is a title of respect due to royalty.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He leaned back against the headboard and Emma jerked. How
the hell did he get on the bed? How did she not noticed him move? Were the
drugs still in her system so that she was having blackouts or something?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I think I figured out I’m supposed to be a ghost bride.”
She motioned to the stone in the floor. “Right? I’m his bride.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He smiled. “Yes, you are.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Okay, so what? Are they going to kill me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">His black brows lowered. “No, they will not hurt you. I won’t
allow it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Okay, so who are you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I told you. I am Ryu, or as the villagers call me, <i>Tono</i>.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Emma ran her fingers through her hair. “So, you’re the <i>Tono</i> now? None of this makes any sense.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He ran his fingers down her arm and she jerked back. What
the hell?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“How did you . . .”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I am <i>Tono</i>. I have
been <i>Tono</i> to this region for
centuries. You are the first woman in two hundred years that can actually see
me. Touch me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He pressed his mouth to hers and Emma shivered. It wasn’t
possible. There was no way. He was real. He was a man. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She opened her eyes to find the dress gone. Just gone. She
was naked. Eye wide, she stared at the man who watched her. He too was no
longer wearing clothes. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Ghosts didn’t exist.
Okay, maybe they did, but they didn’t make clothes disappear. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You are my bride,” he spoke against her lips. “I am a very
lucky man.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“No, you don’t understand. I can’t. I have to leave.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“One night. Give me one night and I will let you go in the
morning. It has been so long, so long.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Emma thought herself insane when she considered it. What
choice did she have? No one was going to open the door. She was here, stuck in
this room and he was so beautiful. No one would ever have to know. Their
secret.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Yes. One night, but you have to promise to let me go.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Promise,” he said, then took her mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Now pop on over to check out what <a href="http://bronwyngreenblog.com/2017/10/16/flash-fiction-68-call-me-crazy" target="_blank">Bronwyn</a>, <a href="http://www.jessicajarman.com/blog/?p=4733" target="_blank">Jessica</a>, <a href="http://krisnorris.ca/wordpress/?p=1414&preview=true" target="_blank">Kris</a>, <a href="https://www.siobhanmuir.com/siobhans-blog/flashfiction-call-me-crazy" target="_blank">Siobhan</a>, and <a href="http://www.deelylah.com/call-me-crazy/" target="_blank">Deelylah</a> did with it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Gwendolyn Ceasehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10932118400806318532noreply@blogger.com4