Odds and Ends

I have been on a quest recently to have my sanity return. There was a time when I was attempting to see how much I could live without in order to downsize . I have figured out that there is a limit to how much I can down size.  Leaving things behind is not a new venture; it's the size of the space that is completely new to me. There are days the space makes me feel like I am suffocating. I am not sure why because there is more storage space than most homes. The problem? I can't pull everything out and go through it then move it around a hundred times until it is in the right spot. Well, the right spot until I change my mind and the smaller space means that every time the baby puts something somewhere it inevitably ends up in the floor.  There is a small window each morning to clean something, and that window grows slimmer each day as I find I need an increasing amount of time to wake up and refresh for the day. I have isolation so working from home would be great except ...

The device was bulky, and cutting into his leg. Why couldn’t someone make an ankle bracelet that looked like delicate jewelry? He’d rather have a girly contraption than feel like he’d been caught in a hunter’s trap.The sudden pain told him that his captor had found the remote. Who is his captor? Why did they put an electrified ankle bracelet on him? The word is remote and this post comes in at 49 of the 50 word limit set by the flash fiction challenge for “Boys and Their Toys” from M3 . Click on the link to be taken to the official rules and find out how to be included in the next edition.

Bugs were using her as a snack and the clouds were getting darker. He would regret leaving her stranded out here without shelter if she ever made her way back to civilization. The tent was of no use to her with a gaping hole in it. Who left her stranded? How did the tent get a hole in it? Did she not take a cell phone with her? The word is tent and this post comes in at 46 of the 50 word limit set by M3 . Visit the Flash in the Pan page for official rules.

What is happiness? Well, it depends on who you ask, so I asked the dictionary. According to Websters it is the state of being happy. Now what does happy mean? According to Webster's there are a number of definitions. I'll give you the shortened version. hap·py (adjective) : feeling pleasure and enjoyment because of your life, situation, etc. : showing or causing feelings of pleasure and enjoyment : pleased or glad about a particular situation, event, etc. I  do not fit any of the give definitions. Why? Well, simply put I am myself. I have been happy, and there are things that make me happy but at the moment sustaining that happiness is impossible. Little Things Mean the Most There are a number of things that make me happy but at the moment the only constant is my little girl. She makes me happy, but I have far too little time with her during the hours that we are awake. The little things that make me happy are not an option right now and will not be for an...

Another day of being treated like a rabid dog was ending and all she could think of was making an escape. The crackling of the radio brought her back to reality. His voice was like magic, and she felt reassured that once the mission was over they would be together. The instructions were clear, but the will to continue working for the perverted old man was fading. Perhaps she could finish her assignment without enduring the torture of spending time with him. The word is radio and this post comes in at 82 of the 150 word limit set by M3 . Follow the link for official rules.

The last few months have been full of changes and adjustments. They have also been full of regressions for my little girl. The blank stare is not as noticeable from a distance but I lived with it for the first three years of her life. It is returning but I am the only one that seems to notice it. I would be the only one in my immediate circle that knows just how far she has come, how far she has slid back toward the days before her diagnosis. The only difference is now she talks, but there are days that dreaded echo is back far more than it should be. Patience is not the strong point of any seven year but hers has decreased back to where it was shortly after we began therapy. The last few months her only therapy sessions have been at school, and that is only occupational therapy (OT) and speech. There is no Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA) offered in this school system either. I miss the daily outings to the clinic for her to see the therapist. OT is something that has been re...

The calendar was covered in big red X’s to count down the days until she could move her family from hell without guilt. The idea of staying another day was enough to make her want to slit her throat but she had to endure. The revving of an engine brought her out to reality and she slipped on her motorcycle helmet for an afternoon of freedom. Why is she counting the days? Is her reality really so bad she’d rather be dead than live in it? What is it about riding a motorcycle that makes you feel so free? The word is motorcycle and this post comes in at 66 of the 75 word limit set by the Flash in the Pan challenge from the M3 blog. Visit M3 for details and official rules.

She hit the brake just in time to hear the scratching of the guardrail down the side of her new paint job. What else could go wrong? She had just bought the car and now she had to get it painted or her husband was going to kill her. Is her husband really such an ass that he’d be that upset over a scratch instead of being thankful that she is alive? Why was going so fast she hit the guardrail when she hit the brake? The word is car and this post comes in at 49 of the 100 word limit set by the M3 Blog and the current flash fiction challenge.

Life had made her hate everything and everyone except her children. The decisions she had made and the hardships that followed them were proof she could endure anything. The tools to survive were something she was well equipped with, someone else could beg for help from those that didn’t really give a damn. She knew she could, and would stand alone. Are they truly alone or is she merely pushing everyone away? Has she been so mistreated that she doubts everyone? Is she physically and mentally equipped to stand alone? The word is tools and this post comes in at 61 of the 100 word limit set by the M3 blog for ‘Boys and Their Toys,” you can find more information by clicking on the word tools.

That blanket of snow we had last week was not to my liking, and the pile of snow that has accumulated on the ground really is not to my liking. I am miserable; take a look. Now I am off to make shorty do as she was told.

We survived, and we're still doing it.

Heather was certain that she had hit her target; the yelp of pain had confirmed it. The icy path made it difficult for her to maneuver but she managed to get close enough to the edge to toss the gun over into the snow bank below. She turned too quickly as the smirk went across her face and slipped on the ice. Grabbing hold of a branch she held on for dear life praying that she would not fall to her death in this horrid place. What was her target? Will someone come along to rescue her or is she going to end up falling to her death? This post comes in at 86 of the 100 word limit set by the M3 Blog for the “Boys and Their Toys” addition of the Flash in the Pan series.

I decided to attempt writing flashes for the M3 challenge one more time. Well, so far it is not going well at all. I managed to get to 38 words and write myself into a corner. That is a neat trick considering the idea behind flash fiction is to allow the reader's imagination to run wild. I am determined now that I have started to write at least one of them. It might take until the day before the deadline to get it finished but I am. It dawned on me that when I wrote that the regular feature would be ending I was giving up. The Mundane I gather all of my information to complete my taxes yesterday. I could have cried when I saw what I made last year, it is proof that I only worked when I absolutely had to. This year will be different, I cannot afford for it not to be now that I am a single parent to a handicapped child. There is some paperwork that I have to hunt down and fill out for my child while I finish up my taxes, but it should not take that long once I locate it. She ...

I am not found of tax time. It is an evil that I can do without. Every time I sit down to do them I find that I cannot find something that I need. This weekend was supposed to be dedicated to finishing them up but I am far from ensuring that I have all of my totals together to file. I do not like tax time but that is another story. It is not the fact that it is time for taxes but the fact that even with the fill in the blank electronic filing I find myself having to go back and check repeatedly to ensure that I did not miss anything. This year I have to call the IRS to get the information required from last years return which is going to mean being on hold for an eternity. Well, off to make lunch, yes I know it is early but it is a delay tactic that I enjoy.

During the course of the last year flash fiction has become a regular feature as a result of the M3 blog   and the book series from Redmund Productions. I am afraid that for the moment that feature is ending. I have no desire to write fiction of any kind at the moment. My creativity has left so the March 31st deadline will not be met. Instead I will be focusing in reality without the subtle, temporary escape that writing the flashes for the books has allowed in the past. I am flashed out at the moment, not to say that I will not flash in the future but for now I am certain that I will not be in the next book. Until next time, treat those around you the way you want to be treated. They will treat you as you have treated them like it or not.