My Writing Challenge

As a writer who also has a "real" job, a house to run, and people who expect me to come out of hiding on occasion I have given myself a challenge of writing something small each day. This is the home of that challenge.

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Inactive

Hello dear followers,

When I first started this blog it was a challenge to myself. My life was hectic, and I’d been unable to write. So I promised myself I would make enough time to write a little each day, and then would post it online for accountability

I didn’t expect so many to follow along with me, and it has been a fun adventure. But I have more time to write with my passions (both in fandom, and on my original novels). So for the foreseeable future I will let this blog rest. Thanks for sticking with me this long!

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Notice

Hello dear followers,

There’s a lot going on right now and I don’t have the time to update regularly for a bit. 

I promise to get back to my Mon-Fri posts ASAP, until then I apologize for the inconvenience.

Much love,

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She curls up; ignoring responsibilities as she sets her mug on the little table and opens the book on her knees. She gets up long enough to make a protein drink, and toss in a load of laundry. But for the most part she ignores all the adult things screaming at her, allowing herself the moment of respite.

She doesn’t hear them talking around her, not the TV or the clacking of dishes. She’s a million miles away, fighting along with rebels or flying through the expanse of space. And by the time she finishes the last page she feels refreshed. Because sometimes sleep isn’t the best way to gain strength.         

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She stares at the email, only half believing the words as she re-reads them over and over. She’s not quite frightened, just at the edge of ecstatic. It had been a joke, something she would later laugh about. “I applied to be a knight once.” She would laugh with her friends, and carry on as always.

But then the first response had come; asking a couple extra questions. She’d answered it, surprised but still expecting nothing of it. And now, now there was a date and time staring back at her. I’d love to talk in person, written clearly. The logical part of her was horrified at the idea; the uncertainties and sacrifices it would require. But the little girl inside, the dreamer, was full of hope. She might get the chance to be a knight in her own shining armor after all.

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They’ve been friends for years, and workmates before that. She attended the ceremony when he received his dream job, he beamed with pride when she passed a milestone toward hers. They don’t talk as much as they would like, but they stay close.

He’s always there to support her; he’s where she turns for advice and a listening ear. He’s always infinitely proud of her, of what she’s becoming. And he’s a source of encouragement for whatever trial she’s facing. Some days he may be the only thing between her and surrender…but his belief is more than enough reason to keep fighting.

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The moment the call comes in they jump into action. He’ll have to leave for the hospital as soon as he’s changed clothes. She takes this time to throw together a meal in a small cooler and refill his favorite travel cup. Once he arrives he’ll send her the details of the patient’s condition and she can set to the task of updating the others while he sits with the family.

It’s a process they’ve learned like a well-oiled machine, but not one she wishes she’d had to learn.

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She’s enjoying the slowness of the morning, waking enough before the alarm to snuggle with her furry companion and contemplate the day’s tasks with a still hazy mind. She doesn’t do it a lot, mostly because her sleep is limited on a good day. But still, she finds a sort of pleasure in the quiet warmth.

But this particular morning seems to drag out, something nagging in the back of her mind as it wakes. She rolls over; grabbing her phone to check the time. The moment the numbers light she’s springing from bed. Adrenaline waking her more efficiently than caffeine ever has. She gets herself together in record time, ignoring the rain as she runs to her car.

She gets lucky today. And while she’s nowhere near her usual early arrival, her perfect attendance record still firmly in place as she drops into her office chair.

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She’s wrapped in a sweater, walking quickly as possible from her car to the front doors when something catches her eye. A green to bright to be grass to the left; so she pauses. It’s a bow, probably cheap and with the adhesive already on the back. But now it’s forgotten in the yard, a thin layer of frost across the satin like material. It reflects light, and despite being so far from the intended use she cannot help but think it’s beautiful.

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She always says she wrote for herself, and that remains true. But something about the little notifications, about seeing other people respond positively to what she’s done. A little boost when she questions why she’s putting the effort forward, encouragement when it all feels like a pipe dream.

So she writes, still mostly to fill the gap between what she wants to read and what she exists…but it makes her smile when someone else was looking for the same thing, and that she made something for them too.

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STORES CLOSING

The bold header of the email matching what she knew would be posted in the window of her local store. Everyone asks her opinion, she just laughs. The store had taken four years of her life; and she’d spent most of it wondering how it stayed afloat. The fact that the company was finally beyond rescue did not surprise her, but there was something bittersweet about it.

She’d spent years sitting in the floor with a stack of books as a customer, making friends with the staff. Then as an employee she’d trained the newcomers, worked her way from the bottom to second in command, nearly running the branch. It hadn’t been easy, and there were times she’d hated it; but there had been good also, and she’d miss the crazy little place.

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The young woman walks into the room with a yellow cake, the words “Baby on board” in bold black lettering. It takes only a moment before the kitchen fills with excited squeals. The other women all rushing to give her hugs and voice their congratulations to the couple.

Conversations shift to due dates, if they’ll learn the gender, how far along she is; until their cake is long eaten and they are all at the bottom of their coffee mugs.

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She sits in the backseat, nodding seriously as the two year old tells her some story. The other two women are in the front seat having a conversation. It’s not that she minds being invisible, especially when the expecting mothers are talking about things she has no experience in. Besides, she’s here out of duty, a loyalty that often pulls her into events.

So she continues entertaining the young child; at least she can be useful that way.

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She not sure why she lets him past her walls; knows it’s not the most logical choice. But he’s as guarded as she, the same defenses in place. But there is something inherently genuine about him, about his inquiries. And he’s put an effort in getting to know her, as he does everyone.

“Wanna know what makes people tick” he tells her. “Get inside their heads.”

She wants to tell him that that’s where her demons hide, but instead she just smiles. She knows he has his own skeletons, and if anyone can disregard those mistakes it’s him. So she’s honest, and answers his questions even if they make her uneasy.

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She feels it creeping up on her; the lack of drive or desire. The slow decent into numbness as the world spins madly on. She used to fight it, but now she almost welcomes it. It’s not so much an escape as a defense when the waves pull her under.

She knows when the danger of breaking passes, when her mind no longer fears the pressure, it will dissipate. Crumbling back down to mere dust beneath her feet until she needs sanctuary once more.

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She sits on the couch, listening as those around her offer little pieces of themselves up. And oh how she has missed this, the bonding between the seven of them. She’s more careful than most of them about her answers, but she always gives something. She leaves the gathering feeling warm and a little less alone that night.

She’ll regret being out so late in the morning, but for now she’s content…and that alone makes her choice worthwhile.

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She’s prepared herself for the same ache that comes this time every year. For thinking about how she should be celebrating with him instead of locked out.

It doesn’t come. Her day sucks in a million different ways; but for the first time in years he isn’t one of them. There’s still a moment she thinks of him; wishing him the best and silently celebrating his birthday. He changed her life, she’ll always be grateful. But she doesn’t need him to saver her anymore. So with a smile she shakes her head and continues, another stitch finally falling from the wound on her once broken heart.

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She sets the little gift and card on the woman’s desk. It’s not much; especially compared to all the work and sacrifice that been put in for the department. But still, it’s something to try and convey their gratitude. To say her good works have not gone unnoticed, and that despite their teasing or playing ignorant, they are immensely grateful to her.