Ringing Silence

The room was quiet and Mary sat staring out the window. The lights were out and her sons were asleep though she could hear the sounds of Terrence tossing and turning even from down the hall.

A small smile graced her mouth, he had never been a particularly quiet boy.

The smile faded just as easily as it had come, but he was far more guarded then ever before. He hadn’t been happy when his parents had separated. No one had been happy, but it had been necessary for the work that Warren was doing. Matthew hadn’t been happy either, but he hadn’t been as vocal about it as Terrence.

Terrence (Terry as he was more and more insisting on being called) was rather translucent about his feelings though Matt wasn’t far behind. This was the reason (other than their young ages) that the boys hadn’t been told about the plan. They were the children and they had responsible parents, parents who could conscience the idea of putting that kind of pressure on their sons.

They wished this hadn’t been necessary at all.

Mary shook her head, these thoughts wouldn’t help her. She looked down at the black clothing she was still wearing though her shoes had been placed by the door as always. It would be some time before she changed out of these clothes and into a pair of Warren’s sleep clothes, ones that he had left behind when he’d initially moved out.

It was eerie how little like him they smelled.

(She had only been wearing them every night since the separation had begun. The boys hadn’t known as she always went to bed after they did and woke long before they started to stir for the day.)

Once she had changed into the sleep clothes, she reached down to where a pocket in the pants would have been located, her hand seemed to disappear into a pocket though if anyone had looked closely (there was no one else in the bedroom) they would have realized that the pants had no pockets. Once her hand came back out, it was holding a simple golden band. It was larger than the one she still wore on her hand.

Mary slipped it over her thumb and spent the few hours she tried to sleep turning the large ring over and over with the fingers of her right hand.


Inspired by the words from this week’s prompt in Three Word Wednesday.

Little Dandelion – Traces Prompt #9, Light and Shade

He offered her a dandelion plant in a small pot. He was aware that she studied the language of flowers greatly and her eyes were slightly angry when they met his. He smiled and handed her a small envelope along with the pot before he hugged her, kissed her on the cheek and left for work.

It was her birthday and she loved plants. He always gave her something for her garden as they rarely had any in the house, small as it was.

She sat, the hated flower sitting next to her and opened the envelope. Inside was a simple card that said the following:

My darling wife,
 
I know that you will see this flower and think of its meaning, a dalliance, a trifling flirtation. That is not what I mean when I see this flower.
 
I think of you.
 
I think of your tenacity. Your inability to give up. You see something that needs to be fixed and even if it is not initially your problem, you try to fix it. You listen to people no matter who they are or where they come from. You care about them even if you will never meet them again.
 
To me, you are a little dandelion who sees a crack in the pavement where there is nothing but grey walls and parched dirt and think, “There! That is the perfect place for me to begin bringing a little cheer and color to this place.”  You will slowly send out seeds and spread the cheery yellow happiness of life whenever you are able to do so.
 
So do not look at this little flower that is often thought off as a weed or nothing more than a dalliance. Look at it and see how eager it is to spread a little life where there is only desolation.
 
All my love.
 

She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked up at the little potted plant.

She smiled.


This was written for two different prompts, but it is only because of both of them that I was able to write this story. Thank you for the Traces Prompt, Olianna and thank you for the Light and Shade Challenge, Lyssa and Thomas.

Frolicking Crisis

She frolicked through the tall grass, chasing ducks and snakes and whatever else caught her fancy.

“Iris!”

The black cat continued to run about, enjoying her new-found freedom of playing in more than just the backyard.

“Iris!”

She didn’t even turn an ear to the voice calling her name. The outdoors were just too much fun! She was going to stall as long as possible before going home. Cotton, that old white and black grandma of a cat, went out for the whole day all the time and she was hardly ever called to come back sooner than she wanted!

(Iris completely ignored the fact that she was still very much a kitten in human and cat terms and that she had never been this far from home by herself. She was too busy griping about her mom calling her home earlier than she wanted to.)

Meanwhile, back at the house…

Iris’s mom and dad were really starting to worry. It had been more than five hours since anyone had seen their cat and both of them had lost other cats in much the same way. They had gone out one day and never come back. They couldn’t bare to lose Iris after not even having her for a full year yet.

Everyone ran around the house, the yard, the creek, looking for the missing cat. This was truly another Family Crisis.


Written for this week’s Three Word Wednesday prompt: http://www.threewordwednesday.com/2014/06/3ww-ccclxxii.html

Also, this happened to us yesterday. It was really hard on my sister and her husband because Iris is still very much a kitten. We finally found her playing near the creek… Which didn’t help as my sister was convinced that she’d fall in, be one of those few cats that can’t swim (family history has taught us that they do exist…for us at least) and fall into the creek and drown.

Her husband and I finally got her after dark and dragged her back into the house (man, but that can can wriggle!) I got a nice slice of one of my fingers taken off as a parting shot, but that cat is now in the house (and it time out apparently.)

Forgotten…

To be forgotten is worse than death -Freya, Final Fantasy IX

What do you do when she doesn’t know who you are?

What do you do when she doesn’t know who she is?

Every morning it starts all over again.

Who are you?
Where am I?
 

You pray and love her and don’t startle her at all.

You love you and don’t want her to fear you.

You are gentle and caring but never overbearing.

Is that my name?
I’m someone’s wife?
 

It gets harder as the days go by and there is no change.

Memories, new and old, are as tangible as the night sky.

It gets harder to carry one day after day.

Why do you still care for me?
Why do you stay here with me?
 

But she is as necessary to your life as the air you breath.

You could no sooner send her away than reach into your chest and physically rip out your lungs.

You promised for better or worse.

Why do you love me when I can’t even remember your name?
How is it that I know I love you back?
 

A promise made is a promise to keep, especially to your eternal companion.

The memories may be gone, but the emotions remain.

You are in this together no matter what.


Written in honor of my brother and sister-in-law. They are some of the most awesome people I have ever had the privilege to meet and know. I pray that the Lord will be with them.

In-Laws – Thankful Thursday

This morning was very different for me. My younger sister and her husband are staying with us while we all go house searching the next two weeks or so. This morning was the first morning that they were with us in the morning. It was different to have an adult man in the house; we haven’t had one since my younger brother moved out several years ago and got an apartment. We didn’t have many during my childhood years as my parents divorced when I was in early grade school.

My grandfather lived with us for a year or so right before I went into middle school and again right after I graduated high school, but by then he was very old and sick and slept most of the time.

Having my brother-in-law here is a nice change. He’s very level-headed and good company and is very patient. He also adores his wife and it is very obvious. They haven’t been married quite a year just yet (this November will be their one year anniversary) but they click together really well. It’s not often that you see a well balanced couple, especially one that is still relatively new. Oh they have their ups and downs, just like everyone else, but in the end, they respect and care for one another just as much as they love one another. Their personalities also mesh very well together.

I am always very grateful for them bumping into one another at Wal-Mart a few years ago. I am also grateful for being friends with him and his sister when we were in grade school. The only people we still know from that time are them and my sister’s best friend, Ronnie (who was her Maid of Honor at the wedding.)

IMAG1171
image: from martha0stout’s phone

I am grateful for my sister and brother-in-law this morning.

Check out the original Thankful Thursday post for today: http://mithriluna.wordpress.com/2014/05/22/thankful-thursday-a-morning-escape/comment-page-1/#comment-2069

Timing Abed

She sat in the room,
Quietly in the bed
And wondered again
Where this had led.
 
She’d been doing just right
Keeping stress levels down,
Trying her best
To keep away a frown.
 
But life happened again
As it always will,
It happened quite loudly
And now she is ill.
 
The babies are safe.
That’s what the doctors said,
And safe they will stay
As long as she’s abed.
 
So she’ll stay here and wait,
Make sure they’re all right.
She’ll stay here and wait,
Until the time is in sight.

I’ve mentioned in at least one post that one of my sisters is pregnant with twins. Yesterday we received a call that the water on one of them had broken. They’re not due until the end of July at the earliest. Luckily, she was able to get to the hospital and didn’t lose either of her little boys. She now has to stay at the hospital until they have developed enough to come out into the world.

This has not been an easy pregnancy and she’s already had a bleeding out scare. She’s doing everything she can to keep her twin boys safe and is blessed to have a wonderful husband who will also do all he can. I thank God everyday that she is still here.

Sorry! You’re Obsolete

Out of everything she’d ever seen come and go, the thing she missed the most was the ability to simply sit around a table and play board games with her family. The advent and spread of video games, both on the computer and it’s smaller cousins or on the television. She missed having her husband at the other end of the dining room table with their sons on either side.

Mary entered her apartment and was greeted by the sounds of her youngest playing…something…on the small handheld that he had received from his older brother for Christmas. With a glance, she saw that Terry was sitting at the sofa working on some homework or maybe something else. She wasn’t entirely certain as he was working on those tablets that had become popular in her early years in this world.

If she was lucky, they’d agree to a quick family night tonight and do something together. If she was even luckier, they’d agree to a game of Sorry! as long as she was able to keep it a quick game.

Her eldest was often called in to work strange hours at his job.


Written for today’s Daily Post prompt: https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/going-obsolete/

Also written because a few nights ago we were able to sit down and play a round of Sorry! which isn’t something that we’re always able to sit down and do. I miss the family game nights of board games…

Box of Memories

Anna smiled as she rooted through the small box in front of her. It had been years since she’d thought about any of this and even longer since she’d actually seen it, but as her hands picked up every item, fingers caressing certain points, her memories drifted to the front of her mind easily enough.

A small candle, half melted down, the wick blackened by both use and age.

She’d been barely a teen, her friends deciding she needed an abundance of candles, regardless of the fact that no one in their right minds let her use matches. (Trying to use an arts and crafts project where you carefully edged a picture with burnt paper hadn’t ended well, but thankfully, the fire had been contained before it really damaged anything.)

A small red and white box with the names “Meier & Frank” stamped on it, opened up to show a small necklace, earrings and bracelet set.

They’d been lovingly crafted by her grandmother with plastic pearls, silver beads and both large and small chain links. She’d worn them several times, but had actually lost the large pendant from the necklace the first time she’d ever put them on and had never found it. The set still was beautiful after all these years.

A folder filled with notes and small pamphlets on various houses, colors and different floor designs.

After several years in college, she’d finally found her major: Interior Design. Something that no one in her family, no matter how far out you searched, had ever gone into. It was completely new to her and yet also came slightly more easily than she had hoped. Her years of helping her mother rearrange the house once or twice a month, something that had annoyed her as a teen and amused her as a child, had finally gained an appreciation within her.

An old packet of photos in a card-stock packet that had been taken as a roll of film to the store to be developed and returned with little imperfections like fingers around the edges and heads cut off from inexperienced hands handling the old film-stocked camera.

The camera had been a gift from her elder sister, a hand-me-down that had been  carefully fixed before given with a small packet of four rolls of film for the excited would-be photographer: aged 13. She’d loved that camera and mourned its loss after flooding in the house had broken it beyond repair.

A small gold ring with a strange pale pink gem set into it.

It had been a small gift from her favorite aunt and had fit her little ring finger perfectly at age 7. It had no real gems or costly metal in it, but it was her first piece of jewelry and she’d worn it until it wouldn’t fit on her ring finger anymore. It barely fit on her pinkie finger now.

A scuffed and breaking red binder with childish scrawl across it stating “Anna’s Folder.”

She’d watched her eldest sister as she’d drawn with her fine pencils and pastel crayons a beautiful sunset. Anna had a hard time drawing stick figures, but with patient hands (and some frustration…a lot of frustration) her sister, Mary, helped her to draw on several pieces of paper and then grabbed an unused red binder from her desk. Carefully using a hole-punch along one side of the paper, Mary eventually had a little book for Anna to collect her drawings in it. On the second page was the sunset that Mary had drawn right next the clumsy attempt a five year old Anna had tried to draw as well.

There were more things within the broken little box of memories and Anna smiled, tears glinting in her eyes at times, as she carefully lifted everything and placed it to her side in a newer, plastic box.

“Almost done, honey?” a male voice called from the front of the garage.

Anna turned to her husband, Ivan, and nodded, “Just about, give me another five minutes and I’ll be through.”

“Don’t forget to wash up, we’re going out to eat after we’re finished cleaning the garage.” he reminded her before grunting as he lifted his second to last tote up onto the shelves they’d set up over an hour ago.

Anna looked around her at the small pile of boxes they’d gone through, together and separately throughout the last month. It had been slow progress going through the single garage, but at the beginning of spring they’d decided they wanted to actually use the garage to store the car instead of leaving it full of boxes from their move. Now, half a month later, they were almost finished.

Their first house still had a lot of work (they had barely touched the backyard and Ivan was certain that there was something wrong with the heating), but it was their’s.


Written for this week’s Dungeon Prompt: http://theseekersdungeon.com/2014/03/06/dungeon-prompts-season-2-week-10-dreaming-big/

This was supposed to end differently, but I think I kind of like it. This Anna is a little older than she was the last time I wrote about her (and originally was going to be a different person altogether, but she demanded screen time.)

(Also, I’ve been rooting through our garage for the last month, but have mostly been working alone due to work schedules. I am nowhere near as done as Ivan and Anna are, but my sister has helped me install the shelves and promises me new boxes as soon as she gets back from work.)

Longshot

When they first realized she was pregnant, they weren’t sure what to think.

It hadn’t been several months when she realized something was wrong. Shew as hungry for things that she’d never wanted before and when she checked her calendar, she realized that it had been several months since she’d had a monthly. That alone wasn’t enough to clue them in, though. She’d never had a regular monthly, she’d sometimes go a third of the year before she’d have one. The fact that she was hungry and then she started having problems with her feet as well as never having enough sleep had shown her husband that something was wrong.

Warren had insisted that she go see a doctor. Her health was important and the fact that she was having symptoms that she’d only had before she’d met him (before she’d come to his world) made him worry. She wasn’t the kind who got sick, she was never tired and she didn’t eat more than she needed because she did not feel hunger the same way that he did.

“Warren, I don’t need to see a doctor, this will-”

“Mary, you don’t get sick. You told me that the last time you couldn’t explain your body reacting like this was before you emigrated.”

Mary said nothing, just looked away from her husband in silence for several long minutes. (She was silent for 20 whole minutes, Warren counted, but he waited in silence with her.)

“All right,” she whispered into his shoulder finally, “All right, I’ll go see someone.”

When they got the results back that she was pregnant, they kind of just stared at one another in confusion.

Warren was sterile. There was no way that the child was his, but it was physically impossible for Mary to have anyone else’s child. She literally could not get pregnant by anyone other than her Bonded, which was Warren.

How did she come to be with child?

“Whatever happens, Mary,” Warren assured his wife that night, “We will get through this, because that’s what we do.”


Written for today’s Daily Post prompt: https://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/04/daily-prompt-against-all-odds/

Not Wanted

The funeral had been hard to sit through. Her sons were angry and sad and didn’t know just how much he was missed.

Mary sighed as her eldest slammed the door behind him.

This isn’t what I meant.


Written for this week’s Trifextra challenge: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2014/02/trifextra-week-103.html

A little interlude somewhere in the Former Guardian story after her estranged husband dies.