Just Like You

Sometimes she wondered at the way they were portrayed even as she set the candles in their places around the room. Popular media often showed them in one of two ways: 1) they were eccentric and did things their own way or 2) they tried everything to be as normal as possible. It never occurred to people, apparently, that they might be people just like them and not really that different at all.

So they had a few different talents that others didn’t have. That wasn’t that abnormal either. Plenty of ‘regular’ (and she always snorted even in her own mind at such a word, nothing was normal, really, everything was only normal in relative to whatever was normal for the person in question) people were able to do things that others struggled with if they could even do it at all. That included those who were ‘different’ or ‘not human.’ Just because they were inhuman didn’t mean that they could do all the wondrous things that brilliance often showed within ‘regular’ humans. Everyone had talents that not every had, just because you were ‘only’ human didn’t mean that was any different.

She didn’t bother sighing as she finished unplugging all of her electronics, what few there were in the house (including the refrigerator and stove). She may not have all the different gadgets in her house that many of her college peers had, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to accidentally damage anything. Just because she wasn’t one of those of her kind that had extra abilities didn’t mean that sometimes static didn’t build up anyway. There was always more static around her kind than others and considering how much static electricity could build up around ‘regular’ humans…

Yeah, she hadn’t wanted to take the chance.

There were no other things that she’d gathered from the night other than the numerous candles that were scattered in great abundance around her main room. She wasn’t as big on observing the different holidays of her kind, not like her parents and siblings or even nephews were, but she did like to sit in a room only lit by candles as she sat through the Autumn Solstice.

Once the candles were lit, she sat in one of her chairs in the middle of the room and watched the flicker of light play against her bare walls and windows as the sun sunk beneath the horizon.

As she had already said, she wasn’t a strict observer of the Rites or holidays, but she did like to use them to take the time and think about her life.

After all, being a born witch didn’t much change the fact that she still had to make serious decisions about what she was going to do with her life now that she was nearing the end of her college years and needed to find a job that would utilize the degree that she’d spent the last four years working towards.

This was written for the Third Annual Spooky Writing Challenge, though it’s different from what I offered up last time. I hope that it is enjoyed!


Memories to Make Together – Eclectic Corner #8

image: from martha0stout's phone

image: from martha0stout’s phone

Walk with me through life

It will certainly be sweet

Together we’ll grow.

This was how my newest brother-in-law asked my youngest sister to marry him almost a year and a half ago. He took her to where they met, our elementary school, and they walked around it reminiscing while his sister quickly set this up on a chair near where we would all leave the school to walk home together.

He had promised her a cookie a few weeks earlier when she’d been craving them.

After opening the box and seeing this, she turned around to find him down on one knee.

This is the picture that caught my eye when I went looking through my pictures for Eclectic Corner #8: Splash of Colour.

Mischief Uncurbed

She frowned at the devious smile in front of her.


The smile widened.


The smile started to turn into a smirk which underscored the deviousness of it all the more.


The venomous quality of the final shout did nothing to curb the mischief sparkling her sister’s eyes.

Sparked by the words for this last week’s Three Word Wednesday. It’s been a while since I used a prompt from here and I’m sorry for the long absence as I’ve enjoyed 3WW a great deal.


I’m sorry that I said that
I really, truly am
I didn’t mean to hurt you
Please take me as I am.
Those thoughts and words
Became more than just that
They hurled right at you
Hitting with accuracy, SPLAT!
I was so frustrated
I didn’t stop to think
And said some things I now regret
So quickly I could not blink.
So please don’t remember
The things I said this day
And hopefully those tears
I can help to wipe away.

Ran through my head the moment I read the quote for the Third Monday prompt from Light and Shade Challenge.

The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.
–Mahatma Gandhi

This Life is a Dream – Eclectic Corner #6

The easel stood proudly before her, placed exactly where the artist’s eye would get the best view.  The empty canvass would have wriggled in excitement if it could, waiting for just one splash of colour to take away its starkness.

The woman rested back a moment in her chair.  The garden ahead gave its own glorious canvass of colour as the forest and fields behind created a nice backdrop, a small sigh escaped recently moisturised lips.

Mossy green eyes now took a leisurely look upon the multitude of squeezed tubes, brushes and array of artist’s tools, her slender pale fingers twitching, eager to start.  There was just the twitter of birds interrupted by the snore of a lazy house dog as the cat meandered back and forth between her legs.

The sun peeked its rays through the haze of branches, splintering in to more rays to dust upon the petals and grass, a smile creasing upon her lips as the warmth radiated through clement veins.  A splash of gold and russet found itself being placed upon the canvass, the emerging of what, she was not sure at this precise time, her art always morphing as the day went on.

Resting a moment after a few brushstrokes the wooden handle found itself twiddling and twisting between fingers like a baton, the clouds making an eager appearance nudging against the toasty rays,  drowning them out.

Saturated greenery suddenly became lacklustre as a shiver ran down her spine, the hairs of the brush now coated in darker and deeper shades, sweeping across  now wetter and more colourful canvas.

There was a tussle and a ruffle as the sun fought its way back, today was going to be one of those days.  Resting back in to her chair lids closed a moment, distractions always trying to pry her away from intended task as the warmth kissed her lips.

Memories floating back to that bar, the hustle and bustle of urban life, the opposite of her now rural existence.  That kiss, so different to the kiss of sunshine, that kiss that tasted of whisky and cigars, the stubble burning her skin as she gasped, surprising herself at the memory, it invoking tingles to rage through her body, goosebumps erupting everywhere.

Breathing in deeply, she resisted the necessity to open her eyes, enjoying the memory, though it had faded, another sigh, this one of disappointment.  Sadness swept through her veins, lashes lifting to survey rural surroundings once more.

A jolt went through her body at the crude sharp sound of a trilling bell, the phone, it obliterating any vestiges of memory, any moment of calm as she lifted up to go and answer it…..

© Justine Nagaur Eclecticoddsnsods.com


image: taken with my sister's Nook

image: taken with my sister’s Nook

With a shudder her eyes opened. The room was fuzzy and no matter what she tried she couldn’t bring it into focus. She blamed the dull throbbing in her head for that. And the way her body in general feels like it was soaked in a swimming pool for days rather than the normal two hours that she spends doing laps.

She has no idea why her head hurts like this because she’s never had a problem with headaches before. Whatever is causing it must also be the reason behind why her throat feels worse than any amount of congestion she’s ever had on top of swallowing a chicken bone.

“Miss Summers.”

She wondered just how she even got here.

“Miss Summers, can you hear me?”

She couldn’t even really remember the last thing she’d been doing-

“Miss Summers, if you can understand what I am saying blink once.”

She blinked as rapidly as possible when she realized that someone was speaking to her. Her vision was still very fuzzy so all she was seeing was a giant moving blob in neutral colors.

“I don’t think she’s quite awake enough yet, doctor.”

“Coming out from anesthesia can always through a person for a loop, nurse.”

“Let’s just hope that this one recovers better than the last patient we had in for this.”

This picture and little continuation of Justine’s story are in answer to her Eclectic Corner #6: Story & Photography prompt. I wasn’t sure what to write about today and I’m kind of dead tired as well (moving is not fun when you’r trying to pack up eight people and do other necessary stuff and you’re not even actually moving anything into the new house for about a week and a few days) so I was glad when she mentioned it to me. Thank you, Justine! You have saved me for the day.

I don’t remember the name of the painting or the artist, but it’s something my parents purchased in the first few years of their marriage before they had a bunch of kids. It was one of the first things to jump to mind while I was reading through the story prompt.

Behind the Class

The first time she managed to complete the assigned work she was on cloud nine. She had never managed to get this particular part of math no matter how many times she’d read through the exercises in the book or the explanations she found there. The teacher hadn’t been able to help very much because she was a substitute until they found another math teacher to cover for the suddenly retired one from the first two quarters of the year.

It was kind of embarrassing how easily everyone else picked up graphing and she hadn’t when it had typically been the other way around for most of her life.

That didn’t mean she’d given up, just that she’d tried harder at this than just about anything else she’d ever done in her life.

So when she finally got enough answers right on the graphing assignment for that week, she felt pretty justified in the permanent smile that stayed plastered to her face the rest of the day.

Inspired by the quote from the Light and Shade Challenge this week.

A child of five would understand this. Send someone to fetch a five year old child
–Groucho Marx


So often we forget ourselves
Totally lose sight of our age
Until we realize with a start
“Please forget I just did that!
I can’t believe I forgot!
Don’t look at me, cover your eyes!”
Everyone is entitled to be stupid, but some abuse the privilege

This was inspired by the Light and Shade Challenge.

No One Knows – Eclectic Corner #5

My friend I wait at your feet
Along the path we walk
So walk slow or fast with me
To where e’er together we will be
Even as the streets we stalk
Reach out to our heartbeat.
Please keep nearby
Even as I cry
To have you by my side.

Each day was much the same, waiting for My Boy to come home from school. He was always the first through the door and I was ready and waiting. I loved the others just as much, but My Boy was special. He needed me more than the others, not because life wasn’t just as hard or them but because My Boy didn’t have the same kind of support that his siblings had. I don’t understand much about humans, about how they decide who should and shouldn’t be their friend, but My Boy didn’t have friends his age. Those few that he did have were usually also friends with his siblings.

So during the times when it was just My Boy and me, before the others got home from school, or after school activities, he would curl up against me and with his face pressed into my belly and no one had to know about the tears soaking into my thick coat of fur.

No one had to know about the taunts he’d repeat.

No one had to know that his homework was done twice to hide the tear stains.

No one had to know about the smiles that look so broken, the ones that he practiced to make sure that no one could tell that they were broken.

No one had to know that My Boy’s siblings worried about him.

No one had to know that they would whisper into my ears about their fears.

“He never talks about school.”

“He only hangs out with us when we ask him to, he used to ask to spend time with us all the time.”

“I haven’t seen him happy about anything outside of the house in months.”

“I just don’t know what to do, Rabby.”

So I sit there, curled around My Boy and wait because there is nothing more I can do.

This little story snippet and poem was inspired by the picture prompt from Eclectic Corner #5 for this week from the lovely Justine.

The Lion With The Lamb

image: Sissy and Usako, martha0stout's phone

image: Sissy and Usako, martha0stout’s phone

Pets will lie down
Even should they disagree
At what is allowed.
Cat loves to cuddle
Especially with a friend.

This little poem is for the revisit of Sreejit’s Dungeon Prompt: Peace. Also, my cat, Usako loves to cuddle. She’ll cuddle with anyone once she’s gotten used to you. Sissy’s like that too except Sissy doesn’t like fights at all. Usako will pick on my sister’s cat, Iris. This upsets Sissy and so she’ll go rushing over. She doesn’t bark or nip or anything, but a large animal showing up? That sends Usako scampering. They don’t always get along, my cat and my dog, but when they want to cuddle, they’re both at peace.

The Reveal – Eclectic Corner #4


image: martha0stout’s phone


Can’t quite manage to reach every point
Or block a wandering dog;
Very often, though, it does what is needed
Especially when the wind starts blowing and
Rain, snow and hale beat down.

Here is the bigger picture that the little cropped part came from in my post Eclectic Corner #4 – Protection What? for my answer to Justine’s Eclectic Corner: Protection.


image: from martha0stout’s phone


I hope that y’all enjoyed the guessing game!