Gloria Bold's Stories

Dubious Concern

2008-06-24T20:31:06Z

People are asking questions. Wanting know what I’m going to do. How I’m going handle the situation. I’ve been inside my head for days.

The headache is the only constant. The ebbing throb that moves around my skull lighting up each area of the brain like a medical diagram.

Phone calls at 7 am reminding me that I would be a complete idiot to associate with someone who’s demonstrated mental instability and violence. As if I could forget. As if my life the last three weeks hasn’t been replayed over and over every night as I struggle in my search for sleep.

Phone calls from a man whose dubious behavior earned him the title of abuser, crazy, and toxic by others. Worried that he’d snap one day and hurt me. I defended him. This one is the one calling me worried. Worried about my safety and life choices.

I crawl back into my head. Into the pseudo comfort of the throbbing pain.

Define Okay

2008-06-24T01:15:30Z

A week at home with a prescription and a diagnosis that says “We couldn’t figure it out either”.
A week of newspapers telling me the man I loved went insane after we were separated at the hospital.
I ponder how he can just turn around and be someone else in a matter of seconds. How he can attack the frail and accuse satan of sending his minions? The doctors all ponder “What are the odds of simultaneous neurological events?”
A phone call.
“Hello?”
“It’s me. I’m okay.”
“Define okay.”
“I’m alive. In the state hospital. In my right mind.”
“For how long?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I want you to know that”
“I do”
“How are you? Are you okay?”
“Define okay”
“Please, don’t”
“I’m home. No diagnosis. The seizures stopped.”
“Good”
“but my boyfriend had a mental breakdown, was shot and is in a state mental hospital. I have no idea what happened.”
“I love you so much”
“Sounds like you have no idea either”
My hand goes to my forehead, rubbing at the constant headache behind my eyes.
“I love you. I miss you.”

All Inclusive

2008-06-20T15:46:36Z

They didn’t get my joke. The one about the bracelts being all inclusive. I had to explain it. Pain killers, CT scan, EKG , MRI, Blooddraw, Halluciantions. The whole package.

My sisters laughed then. If I was making jokes I must be okay.

Was I going to be okay? I confused the medical staff with my symptoms that seemed to have no cause.

They filtered news from me, but I knew the he was not okay. That he had crossed over that thin line of sanity that so many of us skirt. I knew without them telling me that he was gone from me.

I had told him that I wasn’t going anywhere, but he had left without me to a place I couldn’t go. My body shuddered with the loss.

My sisters cringed. The nurses inject. I want to see the dog at the end of my bed.

All inclusive.

Walked On

2008-06-19T14:24:46Z

I opened my eyes to blinding white. White sheets, walls, light. White jacket standing at the end of the bed looking at me inquisitively.

A bewildered glance revealed my sisters in the corner with bags under their eyes and relief in their smiles.

I was no longer convulsing, but my eyes would not stop blinking and I still had a stutter.

The white jacket probed with questions bordering on indecent. How did I feel? “Walked on” I replied. Glancing down to wrist with a IV in my hand and bracelets with my name on them. One in a sporty fluorescent orange color. I must of gotten the all inclusive I say. No one is sure if they are supposed to laugh.

The white jacket is still talking and I answer, I think. I don’t know, there seems to be someone missing. White jacket speaks again saying his name.

The man that was in the ER with you last night has been shot.

Suspicious eyes flutter.

I wonder what kind of cruel tests these neurologists (for that’s what his name badge claims him to be) have developed these days.

Is this Real Life?

2008-06-19T00:55:54Z

People go insane everyday. Right? They are just walking down the street and ‘snap’ they’ve lost their marbles. I mean there has to be a first day of the rest of their disturbed lives, doesn’t there?

It’s not like I should have seen it coming? How could I from the gurney that was loading me into the ambulance. Drugged up on too much of whatever they thought would stop the convulsions. There is no way that I could have seen what was to happen next.

The man who so lovingly held my hand while they tried to figure out what was wrong with me a few hours before, morphed, clicked, snapped, into a messenger from God up above and started to wreak havoc on this sleepy little town.

Does this happen in real life? Am I supposed to believe that this is true, and not the latest episode of TV drama?

Is it possible to write a happy ending here?

Dinner is at 8

2008-04-27T18:05:28Z

The ocean breeze turned chilly as the sun went down on the third day. The sand was still warm, and that’s what kept him there for a few more minutes as he contemplated possible means of rescue.

” Are you still trying to figure out how they got off Gilligan’s Island?” she mocked.

“No, I was considering other avenues today.”

“Oh, like constructing a transporter out of banana leaves and coconuts up the mother ship?” she laughed.

“If you weren’t my sister, I’d leave you here with the monkeys, when I figure this out”

“Well until that happens, you’ll just have to endure my natural animal abilities. And for the record, Dinner is at 8, and the Monkey’s don’t like it when you’re late.”

She had the whole world in her hands.

2008-04-11T20:59:15Z

The ill fate of the world fell crumbling through pallid fingers.

Monkey Business

2008-04-11T03:18:04Z

“The monkeys told me I’d find you here, wallowing in self pity.”

“Ahh, what do monkey’s know anyway” I replied as traced figure eights in the sand with a branch I pulled off the tree. I had the bright idea that I would start weaving baskets with the banana leaves. The plan was to practice with the baskets and then maybe work my way up to sails. It was harder than it looked.

“They know you don’t know jack about arts and crafts, which is surprising, considering the amount of time you’ve spent inside the cuckoo bin”

A dirty look was the only response I had for her. At least I was trying to do something about the situation, rather than going acting all Jacque Cousteu with wildlife. She just kept smiling at her clever jokes.

The sun was starting to go down, causing the craggy boulders along the beach to cast a rosey glow. Two days had gone by and they still hadn’t figured a way out, or a reliable way to eat.

“I don’t suppose you asked your Monkey friends when to arrive for dinner?”

Monday Blues

2008-03-24T01:14:02Z

My boots were filled with water and my mouth was letting loose an epitaph of such vile substance to scorch the innocence off the face of babes. It seemed hardly worth the effort to find shelter in this hellish downpour, though my mount seemed to feel otherwise. Tired of fighting her endless attempts into the drier and more protected wood, I loosened the reins and gave up the last bit of control I had over this day. Ego, courage, and confidence had been dashed to rubble by mid morning and it seemed that, on this day of days, sheer stubbornness would not prevail either. I could only rely on the last of my reserves of hope and luck, which were also running dangerously low. As luck would have it, Shira’s determined walk led us though a formidable landscape of shadows and ghosts looming from invisible sky. How much of this day was left to torment me was lost in the mist and and rain. I resigned to sleep in the saddle when Shira stopped, lowered her head, and neighed quietly.

Digging for Righteousness

2008-03-24T00:30:37Z

“Who’s side are you on, anyway?” George questioned impatiently. Dan just grunted and kept on digging.
“Hey! Answer me, jerk. Who’s side are you on?”
Dan stopped, leaned on the handle of his shovel and glared at George. He assessed his partner more fully than he had this morning. He was on the shorter side, stocky, but not because he took care of him self. He was the kind of guy who got by because he was naturally big, and others probably avoided him. He wasn’t very quick, Dan surmised, in more ways than one. He answered slowly, “I didn’t think there was any sides to choose.”
“You know damn’ well there are sides, idiot.”
Dan turned to hide a smirk at that last word.
“Don’t be trying to get out of answering” George growled menacingly.
Dan raised himself up to full height. He was easy to overlook, but once angered hard to forget.
“I am always on the side of the righteous, and if you’re looking for a fight, I’ve already won, so save your energy for digging this hole. We’ve got a lot to bury”

Sweet Cheeks vs. Ignoramus

2008-03-12T00:45:12Z

Brrrrriiiingggg!

The telephone interrupted Hamst3r_b0y’s stream of highly belligerent typing. loco_mama was going to regret the day she challenged him on ins and outs of cultural phenomenon in this day and age.

BRRRIIIIIIINGGG !

“damn. it better be fucking good.” he thought to himself as he picked up the phone, not saying a word.

“hey baby, it’s me”
“oh, hey sweet cheeks. picked a hell of time to interrupt me”
“oh, were you setting some invisible ignoramus straight on the way of the world? For such an internet junkie, you’d think you’d invest in a cell phone that you could turn off, or at least get caller id”
“i’m not into that hipster shit, and besides not knowing where I am or how to get a hold of me adds to my charm, doesn’t sweet cheeks.”
“You only get one more use of ‘sweet cheeks’ before I come over there and kick your ass”
“Tempting. But I’ll save it for later. I’ve got someone else’s ass to fry over here.”
“There you go again choosing the imagined over real life.”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Scientific Volunteers

2008-03-12T00:12:10Z

He half ran, half stumbled through the debris whirling around his feet, not thinking where he was going, just getting away. The detritus of civilization impeding his way, and distracting his mind.

“With out the Rx, they’re going to be looking for you in full force. They have to contain you. You’re a freak on the loose.” He pushed aside that last thought and tried to forget why he was on that court mandated prescription in the first place, and how long he could go with out it before there were… problems.

Thinking too much had always been Wallace’s handicap. So many avenues of debate knocking against the side of the skull. Pulling at his mind, and questioning his motives. Learning to control it was the tricky part, you couldn’t over think it.

The meds were what got him released from prison to the congenially titled “Discovery Center for Scientific ‘Volunteers”. It was anything but congenial, and much worse than prison. He couldn’t go back to either place.

Hot Mailman Haiku

2008-02-22T16:28:53Z

Hot MAILMAN silly
Not HOTMAIL man, you goof.
I like real people

Hot MailMan, went away.
What will I do with out you
Oh, Hot mailman… sad.

Hot Mailman is gone
Since then, all has gone awry
Where is my package?

No mailman today
Christopher Columbus, why?
Conquistidor Jerk.

A week of haiku
Will it bring hot mailman back?
How about my package?

Mail Truck on the Road
Are you hiding hot mail man?
Will I stop to look?

I got my package!
Did hot mail man deliver?
It was U.P.S.

Hot postman is back
Christmas break, Halleluia!
What should I mail now?

Christmas Card with baby
Hot Mailman has a family
Adore from afar?

What! New mailman here?
but? where? how? what? is this one hot?
he is kind of cute.

Living The Ridiculous Side of LIfe

2008-02-22T01:30:31Z

“It was, I don’t know.. just”
“JUST WHAT YOU NEEDED ?” Jess belted out.
“What?, No. Stop singing.”
“Fine, I was just trying to bring a little art into life.”
“Excuse me? Art? Some 80’s crap song is art? Plus you interrupted me in the middle of something.”
“Actually, it’s The Cars, and they don’t mind me coming here, wasting all their time”
“Jess, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Shit, James, what hell is your problem? I told you about this weeks ago. You know. My New Year’s Resolution to Apply Song Lyric’s To All Aspects of My Life!”
“First of all, you were drunk. Second, it is damn near March. You’re a little late.”
“I was completely sober. You can’t tell me that you’ve stopped believing in the ridiculous side of life”
“It gets a little old, Jess… being the freak all the time”
“Don’t Stop, BELIEVING ”
“Oh, God. You’re going to do this all night, aren’t you?”

Ode To Hamst3r_b0y

2008-02-17T16:58:01Z

He finally settled on Hamst3r_b0y as an accurate representation of his misunderstood youth.

This new site was supposed to be free of noobs and would only allow serious bloggers onto the site; somehow he sincerely doubted that was possible. He glanced over the posting rules after logging in under his new user name. In his opinion these ‘rules’ are what was wrong with The Online. What ever happened to the freedom to say whatever the hell you wanted? Didn’t Lincoln say something about that in Declaration of the United States? He chuckled at his historical mismash. Maybe he would make a post on the political site claiming that Lincoln was actually black and that Obama should get off his high horse. That should get someone’s dander up.

“Fuck it” he muttered and got up to straighten up his apartment. He couldn’t think in a mess, and he didn’t fall for that stereotype, that just because you preferred the company of the glowing diodes of interwebbiness that you didn’t mind sitting in your own filth.