`crayola.'s Stories

18 Years [64K Challenge]

2008-03-26T20:27:35Z

The day’s finally here, I’m now 18, so why am I suddenly so scared?

Babies [Name Challenge]

2008-03-21T23:20:45Z

My hand on my ever increasing belly, my husband holding me around the waist as we walk through the nursery. The cries of the little babies bring tears to my own eyes.

I look at each precious child, watching her eyes light up, watching his legs kicking with excitement. Their pink flesh and perfect innocent made me smile, as if my heart was now truly whole.

The birth certificates on each incubator read the names these babies will carry as children and then adults. I see little George, a lawyer. Anna, a schoolteacher. Bridget, a blonde-haired little angel. Lyric, a creature gifted with music. Then I see her, a cooing little darling, her legs kicking and her eyes sparkling blue. She is absolutely perfect, she is brilliance. Her name uniquely hers, like her: Bronwyn.

I Don't Want This

2008-03-08T14:28:26Z

They led me into the stark white room, guided my hand that signed the forms, and left me alone as I was surrounded by unfamiliar doctors all around me.

‘Why are you letting them do this?’ I cried out to them, but no sound came.

The doctor spoke, coaxing me through as if this was a simple everyday operation. He held a large needle in his hand and a tube in the other. My breathing becomes shallow, my heart races in my chest.

‘I don’t want this! I don’t!’ I shouted with all my strength, but still my voice was unsteady and all that came out was some stuttering and nonsense syllables.

I felt the IV going into my arm, hurting more than it should, but not as much as the emotional pain as what was happening really hit me. Finally everything climaxed and I grabbed at my IV ripping it out of my arm.

Blood spurted and I grabbed at my arm, and my ever expanding belly. I didn’t want this… this abortion. My parents who were supposed to love and protect me wanted this. But, I overcame and vowed to have this baby.

Stump the Sovohobo (Challenge)

2008-02-28T11:38:29Z

How could one go about stumping the Stovohobo? Is it possible, is it right?

I could ask him of physics and calculus, but that is too easy and it would be rather simple to just google it.

Now to win this contest I could ask him of fencing, a subject I know very well, but will Stovohobo rise to the challenge and declare victory with his awesomeness fortitude of mind?

Perhaps a question about something obscure, like the good ‘ol question that goes something like this, “If a tree falls in the forest…” Ah, no too cliche.

Well then that leaves only one possibility, ask the question that has no answer, but in that it has no answer it reveals many solutions. Bring my question to the unanswerable, which is inevitably solvable. So, now for the greatest question ever...

If a train leaves Philadelphia at 2:00pm going 69 miles per hour and a train leaves Charleston at 1:30pm going 53 miles per hour what is the probability that both train conductors will have blue eyes.

Resilience (18 to 1 Challenge)

2008-02-28T03:43:03Z

The cold tears stain the fresh pillow, the girls long slender body the is curled in a ball.

Her heart is cracked, bleeding, and broken, it was destroyed by a boy. He took her innocence.

She weeps for him, she weeps for her lost youth, and for his lack of grace.

Inside her soul she knew great things were destined to happen; her power is here.

Rising again she wipes the tears from her rosy cheeks and stands tall and proud.

Her mind is made up; nothing can stop her now. She is ready.

The boy who broke her is just a thing in the past.

No stone is left unturned, everything is different now. Different.

Her past is behind her, but leading the way.

A cry for justice, a prayer for hope.

In her eyes you see fiery passion.

Her soul longs for real love.

She stands up again, again.

Nothing will stop her.

She is…

Resilience.

She is Sleeping Now

2008-02-24T04:51:12Z

She is sleeping now.

I can’t help but watch her drift in and out of dreams. I wonder what world she has fallen into. Is her mind a safe place, filled with happy things, or is she running and scared? I want to hold her hand and laugh as we skip through the halls like normal. I want to take off the bandages and see her smiling face light up to the music she is so fond of.

The doctor says that it would be best if we leave her alone now.

I just want to see her giggle at the corny jokes we all tell over and over. I wish it was just another day with all of us going to youth group and sneaking smiles as we listen to the pastors message. I wish I could erase the scars left behind. I want to free her from this prison.

No one knows how long she will be like this.

I just wish it had never happened. I just wish I was still religious so I could pray for her. I want to bow my head and make things right. I just want a do over – don’t we all deserve it? She never deserved this.

She is sleeping now.

Let Faith Prevail

2008-02-22T03:32:29Z

life moves so swiftly,
it takes and it gives.
what starts out so beautiful
just ends in tragedy.

how are we supposed to believe
that good things can happen
if such pained things occur.

but look up
up to the clouds in faith
have hope and pray

god gives life
but he also takes it
why must this happen?

please let faith prevail.
don’t let everything break.
look at the world as blessing,

on this roller coaster of life,
what will happen
five minutes from now?
tomorrow?

please, let faith prevail.
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*this was written for a friend who had a skiing accident this afternoon and just got out of emergency brain surgery and is unconscious. just need your prayers.

believe (six word challenge)

2008-02-10T14:42:20Z

i loved, i laughed, I BELIEVE .
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Infinite

2008-01-14T20:07:22Z

Coney Island in the off season. It’s gray and bleak, the rides wet from the rain, the lights turned off. Everything is in slow motion here. Time stops for hours and hours. Nothing bad can happen in this world. It’s so somber, yet so peaceful.

It’s here that we come every day. We swing on the swings and spin on the spinner ride until we are so filled with euphoria, so filled with laughter and ready to throw up. We run around the park laughing, acting like we did when we were little kids and Coney Island was actually open for the season.

But we’re teenagers now, too old for the childish rides, as our parents tell us every summer. But we don’t care, we are happy, ecstatic. We just lay on the spinner as it spins, faster and faster, staring up at the stars. Such a beautiful night. We speak to the heavens, sharing our deepest fears with the moon, the empty park, with God.

I feel closest to myself her, in the empty park. It’s just so much better in the winter when it’s closed. I feel invincible. I feel infinite.

`crayola.'s 50 ficlet challenge: A Unique Love Story

2008-01-14T20:03:19Z

50 Ficlets!

So, according to tradition, I must devise a challenge.
For my fiftieth ficlet challenge I want you to write a love story.
The twist? The couple has to be one that isn’t commonly accepted in our society. Something sweet and cute.

So write a ficlet about love and the relationship between a unique couple who a very in love.

Good luck and I announce a first, second, and third place winner at the end of the month.

`crayola.

Cutting

2008-01-14T19:54:15Z

I watch the blood. I watch the crimson fall from my arm. It no longer hurts when I do this. It feels good, it is relief. The blood drips, drips like water from a faucet. My book of poetry is filled with these such bloodstains. My arm is littered with these such scars.

I know you’ll be mad when you see this. I know what this represents you you. I know you’ll try to hug me. And I think I just might let you. I know that this blood represents broken promises. I know this choice I made means that I’m still broken. Still broken, you say it like I was fixed. Your words come to me now.

I can hear your voice, it’s almost like your here. But I know your not. I watch the blood. I watch the memories in my mind, like old movies playing the movies over and over. I trace the old scars and the faded lines. I can still hear your voice.

“Oh, Lucy.”

I don’t look up. I watch the blood. It relieves me. Now I’m hearing voices, your voice.

I feel your arms around me. I feel you hold me. I wish we could stay like this forever.

Little Red Pills

2008-01-14T19:53:02Z

Spilled out in front of me they taunt me. They asked if I am going to have the courage to do it. A glass of water, an empty house, a month’s worth of sleeping pills. Do I have the courage? Do I have the guts?

One by one I count the little red friends in front of me. Sixty little tablets in all. Sixty tries and sixty disappointments. I organize them into lines, into shapes, into a picture spread out across the counter.

A note written on the fancy stationary given to me to write thank you notes on. Thank you notes to people who’ve long ago forgotten me. Calligraphy pen dripping ink like the blood dripping down my arm. A note of myself, my legacy, my story. A note that in my only remaining way of communication. A note signed with my good signature, practiced time and time again just for this purpose.

I’m upset and no one is their for me. No one cares anymore, and neither do I. I live in a constant state of apathy. I cry for you, for me, for all my loss. Ready.

I toss my head back, swallow the water & wait…

Little Boys

2008-01-14T19:52:15Z

Little boys are dirty. Little boys are destructive, violent and evil. Boys are horny and perverted, and just plain horrible. That’s what I had heard from the mothers of boys I have babysat for, from the ladies at the daycare from almost everyone who has ever raised a boy

Little boys can be a handful. They are much more energetic than little girls. I have been told that I should have charged double when the little child I was babysitting was a boy. Boys are messy, unruly and crazy. Boys are little demons, girls are the perfect ones that everyone wants. Girls are sweet and loving, kind and gentle. Boys are just, icky.

That’s what I’ve always been told or shown. That I should pray beg for a little girl. But let me tell you, when my Tyler was born I couldn’t have been happier. I loved him and all his boyishness. He was adorable, he was sweet, he was a boy. And even though he can be crazy sometimes, their is always a smile at the end. His big blue eyes can always forgive a silly destruction that can be fixed.

Every Night I Pray

2008-01-14T19:50:51Z

Every night I pray. I bow my head and close my eyes and pray to God, if he exists, if he cares. I don’t know why I still do this ritual. I’ve given up on my faith. I gave up a long time ago.

I wish someone would explain it to me. I wish someone would tell me why God would put so much pain in my life if he supposedly loves me so much. I just want some answers.

But more importantly I want to know why. I want to know who. I want to know how. How do I have a relationship without getting sidetracked? I’m a lost sheep, and these wolves are so convincing. How do I keep from getting distracted? How do I stay faithful?

Why isn’t their someone their to teach me? I just want to understand. What I hate more than being like is is know that this is a way to grow and get out of this whole. How do I not fault myself? Who is out there to help me?

Every night I pray. I bow my head and close my eyes. Every night I pray for my faith back. Every night I pray for someone to come into my life to help me. Every night I pray.

Hourglass

2008-01-14T19:41:59Z

writing this on an hourglass
because time moves just a little too fast

for me to be steady
carefree, and stable

writing this on an hourglass
because i want to control

the time that rules all
and moves a little too fast

within me and
around me; everything is blurred

whooshing past me
like thousands of angry, buzzing bees

writing this on an hourglass
because time moves just a little too fast

because time moves a little too fast.
because time moves a little too fast.