- Babygirl's Pennings (Stories)

A Crimson Battle!

Sun, 28 Dec 2008 13:49:39 +0700

A short chaotic rambling of the heart!

Isn’t it amazing what can happen in a matter of days, minutes, seconds? He can fall out of love just as quickly as it began, and not want to break your heart, but do it anyway. Only cause she’s there in that moment. She’s there with open arms, and a tattered heart. He just wants to help her, to take away her pain, but not realizing his efforts accompany another heartache. It’s too late now. He helped one, and broke the other. Then he becomes aware of what he’s done, and begins the battle. A battle of whether or not he should tell you, for if he does, he’d be bound by the guilt of your heartbreak. What he doesn’t know is that you know. There are eyes everywhere, you knew the second he forgot, and gave in. When he decides not to tell you, he thinks he’s safe, for only a brief second. He’s fine, you are fine, but that’s only what he thinks. You wait patiently for his lies. His guilt of her, and you, and her, and you. The battle continues. She disappears, for she was only using him, she was jealous of what you had, and wanted desperately to disconnect you two. So now what are you going to do? Let him continue his battle of guilt, and go on loving you? You are finally content with your past, and then moments of weakness crawl back into the unforgotten heartache that you two share. You want to go on blind, let him love you like you want to be loved. He wants to love you like that too, but he also wants to stop the battle of guilt of his mistake. It’s not a mistake, he forgot, and gave in, but you know that already.

You can see nothing but the years passing by, and you know that life is waiting just around the corner, but you still choose to go on blinded by the lies, blinded by your love of him, or lack there of. Can you move on without seeing through to his soul. The crimson blood of lies accompanied by the heartache of just that one second when he forgot. You were smart enough to know not to depend on anyone for anything, but still you want to depend on him for the love, for the lust, for the physical treat that he so ample gave away to another at one point, after he pledged his life to you. Sometimes you can’t take the fact that you know, but then he does something commercial, like flowers, or tender kisses, and you allow your heart to melt. To melt back to before he forgot. How long can this last? In the second after he forgot, your heart broke, but you glued it back together quickly so he wouldn’t see it. Let him be blinded. Your story is like so many others. He gave in, you gave in. Is this compromise? You both have had trouble sleeping, tossing and turning, skin touching. You see him, he sees the both of you. Something is missing. You are not sure what that is. You know what it is, but you don’t want to admit it. You are wrong. He loves you, but forgot in that brief second, trying to help another. Forever is never enough. He was wrong. You are wrong. The battle continues.

He’s the best you’ve ever had. He treats you well when he’s not off forgetting what you wished he’d never forgotten. Nothing’s quite the same. Never will be. It’s not so bad, you both are blinded, with hope that this stumble will make you stronger, and in the end you will be holding hands in the promise land. What is the promise land anyway? Is there such a place? You make yourself feel better, hoping that he won’t see what he’s done to you, what you’ve allowed him to do to you. The elaborate lies of deception and heartache. Your memories of before, have taken you back into the life of what could have been, if only he hadn’t forgotten. Now you are again living in the past, putting on a brave front. Holding on to the warmth of what was. But you both will move through blinded, and broken. Silently he prepares to love on you constantly, and silently you want him to, but you think he thinks of another. The heat is unbearable sometimes, but that’s just the physical, and has nothing to do with the love of what you had before you allowed him to forget. If your heart isn’t ready to lay down with his, then there is no forever. You hope that your blinded love is enough to make it through. His battle continues as the years pass by, and this is your battle!

Nightmare

Sun, 14 Sep 2008 07:23:41 +0700

It is mid spring. The leaves began to fall, dancing slowly and gracefully towards the earth. The wind is slightly erect leaving chill bumps across her skin as she sits at her computer. This is her favorite season, the time of year when the wind would breeze through the open windows and scatter things about as if they were unimportant. Grace Charity was born and grew up in Michigan spending large amounts of time in those early years reading fiction, fairy tales and myths. Her mother was an amateur novelist herself but did nothing to encourage her daughter's success. Her father was the breadwinner like so many households during the 70's. He'd wanted nothing but the best for her and if that was being a writer, then a writer she should be. Now at 30, Grace wanted nothing more to go back when she didn't have a care in the world, or a bill to pay. After all the years she'd finally figured out why her mother didn't want her to be a writer. It was a very lonely career. She missed Spencer; they hadn't spoken in a week and their relationship couldn't take another day without him. On the other hand her career couldn't take any more distraction.

Her current project is much more serious then her two previous children's books. The furry rabbits and the dazzling dogs couldn't grace the pages of her latest work. There'd be no more of that; OK maybe in a few years but for now it was fiction and she was three months behind schedule. She sat there starring at the computer screen. Her thoughts were all there written on post-it notes and napkins, spread all across her desk but there were too many possibilities to choose from. She placed the countless endings in a pile and began searching through them only to come to the last one and shake her head. She made herself a glass of iced tea and returned to her computer. After rereading the last chapter she begins to write.

She wasn't surprised by what she was writing, what truly amazes her was that she was writing. She'd spent the last month going over and over the other chapters but here she was sitting in front of her computer writing like she did before her latest bout of writers block. Time was of the essence and if she was to meet her deadline she knew that if anything were to stop her now she would spend the rest of the day trying her best to get back to this spot. Her hands were shaking noticeably upon the keyboard. She smiled broadly listening to her fingertips as they came down in constant repetition. As just as suddenly as her typing started, something of a flash came off the computer screen sending her back off her seat. Everything goes dark.

A few moments later she stumbles to her feet wondering what had happened. Once back at her computer she smiled at her and Spencer's screen saver dancing across the screen. She moved the mouse to get back to work but she sees herself in the screen and backs away.

“Hello Grace,” her reflection says. “Are you surprised to see me?

Grace recognizes the voice of her character Reagan. Unlike herself Reagan's voice had a harsh undertone that gave her somewhat of a sexy and soulful voice. Grace is shocked at the image on the screen and can't find any words to describe the fear she's feeling. She walks away from the computer to compose herself; after two glasses of water she returns and the image is still there biting her fingernails seemingly waiting for something.

“Hello?” Grace says to the screen.

“Hello.”

“What's going on?” She asks.

“Well Grace, you should very well know what’s going on, I mean you've the writer.”

“I know I'm the writer, and who the hell are you?”

“You know who I am Grace. You know very well who I am.”

“Reagan?”

“Yes Grace?”

“This isn't possible, you aren't real.”

“Aren't I?”

“Can you go away now so I can get back to work?”

“I don't think so Grace. See what I've gathered from my experience is you're pretty weak. You have a lot of dreams but you aren't going after them, so I'm here to help you.”

“You can help me by leaving me alone so I can get my work done.”

“Grace tell me do you have an ending for your story?”

“Yes I do, I have many endings, what’s it to you?”

“I have an ending for you.”

“Well I don't need any help in that area thank you.”

“Maybe you don't understand our situation. You have no choices here. I am now in charge. “

Grace begins typing: Reagan trips and falls down the icy stairs. No one is around to t t t...The letters begins to disappear as Reagan is pressing the delete key with a smirk.

“Grace, Grace, Grace, like I said I'm in charge now. If I die, you die. I am you, we are one.” Reagan fed up with the drama that was unfolding she flicks the power button and the screen goes black.

The excitement that she was feeling when she started working today had faded but she was thankful for the quiet. It didn't last long when the screen flickered back to life and Reagan was there starring at her again. Her mind began searching for someone, anyone who could help her or at least help her understand what was happening. Her parents had died four months ago in a car accident and the only other person she had was Spencer. Spencer would know what to do, her eyes flashed as she made her way to the phone.

“Who are you calling?” Reagan asked.

Coincidently Reagan's doorbell rings and Grace watches intensely through the screen. She stopped dead of dialing the last number of Spencer's phone number as she seen him walking through Reagan's door. She kisses him hello and they return to the sofa adjacent to the computer desk. Grace is flabbergasted as she watches them making their way towards the bedroom. The man she talks to about spending their lives together doesn't even know whom he's sleeping with. Was she dreaming? Grace decided she'd had enough tossing an old afghan over the computer and heads to her bedroom.

After a long hot shower she laid down hoping that the memories of today would fade as her enthusiasm had done. Fitfully she wakes and fights with restless sleep over the next few hours. After tossing and turning for another few minutes she headed back into the living room only to find that all of what happen was still there. Her computer; the place where she'd written two successful novels already was still covered by the afghan her mother knitted her the Christmas before her death. Grace wanted to scream, to lash out at someone, to call Spencer and tell him to get a clue, to have her parents there to tell her 'everything is going to be just fine'. Now she didn't really know what to do, hell she didn't even know if it was seriously happening.

She was scared and confused; wishful thinking wasn't really working for her. Was the character she had created was now taking over her life? It didn't make sense. She went into her den where she kept bookcases of books and came to one on the case studies of writer's who've committed suicide. She sat and read a few of the cases and wondered if they'd gone through what she's going through now. She forced the thoughts from her mind. She looked at her first two novels centered on the fireplace mantle neatly mummified in their glass cases. Smiling she decided to get back to work. After removing the afghan from the computer she flick the screen on again and her writing software program came up after it loaded. Relieved that her nightmare was over she began reading what she had wrote earlier in the day and by the time she was finished she decided to erase it all. She started the day refreshed and ready only to feel unproductive and lonely. Writing was never this hard for her. She was now more bewildered then anything. Going through the stack of alternative endings deciding to write them all. She would decide on which one would fit when she was done and at least she would have gotten some writing done today.

Beforehand she calls Spencer, she wants to feel him. She wants to relieve that depressive loneliness that comes with their careers. Spencer Meadow is an editor for Playback, a small press music magazine. They were perfect for each other, both in the literary industry, both understanding of time constraints, both young and still at the kick off of their career. She had demanded space and he gave it to her freely even though he wanted more. She politely turned him down when he asked her to live with him. She loves Spencer there was no doubt about it in her mind but she also wanted to live on her own for a little while. She wanted to be independent and financially stable before jumping into a relationship. Spencer was only her second boyfriend, the only man she'd ever slept with. She didn't listen to her mother about her career choice but she did listen when her mother said don't just give the first man you fall in love with all of you, at least not right away. She was disappointed when she got his answering machine and after leaving a message she returned to her computer. As she began typing again Reagan appears.

“Did you miss me?” Reagan asks.

“Not really, seriously am I hallucinating?”

“Not at all dear Grace. See if you were I couldn't do this.” Reagan said just before Grace's chair fell over sending her to the floor screaming as her foot slams into the table.

“Ouch! What the hell did you do that for?” Grace begins typing: Reagan's keyboard flies up and hits her in the head. Then she watches as Reagan's keyboard does just what she typed.

“Oh you play dirty Grace. Reagan says as a small stream of blood trails down her forehead. “But this, you and I can go on forever if I want it to. Oh and your little boring ass boyfriend is in the bedroom snoring. What do you see in him?”

“You leave him alone.”

“Don't worry dear Grace, you can have him. “ Regan begins typing: Grace begins to cry. She misses Spencer and wants nothing more then for him to be with her now. She needs someone to help her figure out what exactly is going on. “See Grace, if we do what you always did when we will get the same results. Your life is boring, I'm here to make it better.”

“Shut up, my life is not boring and who the hell are you to tell me about my life. You are fiction, you are nothing but a figment of my imagination.”

“No I'm a dynamic character who you resurrected in your likeness.”

“I'm not a God, I can resurrect no one.” Grace replied clearly frustrated.

“You're right you aren't a God because if you were, I wouldn't be here, would I?”

“Why are you here?”

“That is a good question Grace, why am I here?” There conversation is interrupted by a knock on the door. Grace answers it and then breakdown in Spencer's arms.

“What's wrong?” He asks concerned.

“I've been having a rough couple days.”

“What are you talking about? I just left for 20 minutes. What could have happened since then?” For a moment Grace is confused.

“No Spencer, you were with her last night, not me.”

“What the hell are you talking about Grace?” He asks surprised by the anger in her voice.

“The girl you were with looks like me, talks like me but wasn't me. Come and I'll show you.”

“You're crazy Gracie. We shouldn't have stayed up all night, you really need some sleep.”

“No I don't need sleep, you were with her!” Grace exclaims pointing towards the computer.

“What kind of program is this?” He sits down at the desk.

“Hello!” Reagan says, smiling. Spencer jumps almost falling out of the chair.

“What the hell Gracie?”

“That is what I'm trying to tell you. Meet Reagan, she is the character of my new novel.”

“Characters don't stare at you or talk. Are you making a movie?” Grace sighs.

“No she thinks she's going to take over my life. How you were with her last night I don't really know, but I do know you weren't with me.”

“Bullshit Gracie. Just unplug the damn thing.” Spencer walks over and unplugs the computer, it makes a small beeping sound as if it shut off but Reagan is still there smiling.

“See what you two don't understand is I'm in charge now.” Reagan states.

“What are we going to do Spencer?”

“I'm still not sure what’s going on”

“Oh the tragedy of it all.” Reagan mocks raising her hand to her forehead. “Its simple, I'm a character of a story that you created in your likeness. I'm here to give your boring life a little flavor. You are dull and to be honest I think I'm more beautiful.”

“You are my creation, I made you, and I’ll delete you.” Grace yells.

“There is only one way to delete me and that is to erase the entire story. Creator, oh great writer the keyboard works on my side too. What are you going to do?” Spencer watches both ladies dumbfounded.

“SHUT UP!” Grace yells at the screen.

“You'll never be able to shut me up! Do you hear me? NEVER!”

“Oh I'll shut you up alright!” Grace runs to the front room closet and retrieves a baseball bat, screaming with rage she violently swings at the monitor sending shards glass and plastic everywhere. Spencer who was just standing there witnessing the commotion lets out a high-pitched scream.

Grace smiles as she types the next two words. Her writer's block had certainly passed leaving her with the perfect ending. The End.

Love's Thud

Tue, 02 Sep 2008 15:59:14 +0700

Jaded. She had mishandled her heart before, but this time could it be. She has to figure out how to keep Kyle. Jade has waited long for this day to come, but when he asked the question, why couldn‘t she answer him? He is there, waiting for her answer. He wants her to marry him, but she’s hurting. She’s heartbroken at his idyllic behavior. Spending nights at the bar, returning home to make love to her, tainted with the demon’s breath. No soft whispers of I love you, no caressing of delicate skin, just in and out, and the sounds of thunder. Jade cried herself to sleep those nights. When he returned home just a week ago, and saw her bags packed, he apologized. He fell to his knees just as he did just ten minutes ago. This was the best week of her life, but she still couldn’t answer that question. She knew what she wanted to say. Yes. Could it be the forever she’s looking for? Or will he continue to treat her as a double life. She was still walking. Cold. Thinking about how they met. He was handsome in his sweatpants and tee shirt, sweaty as he ran passed her. They were jogging in opposite directions, but he was there overcome with her beauty. There was a loud thud as he ran into the recently trimmed Hawthorne tree. With a moan he fell to the ground Jade turned around and ran back to help him up. On her knees, she caressed his forehead, eyeing the gash.

“That’s a beauty,” she said taking out the bandana that was tucked into the back of her sweatpants. She gently dabbed as the gash removing hints of shredded leaves.

“Yes you are.” They smiled at each other.

“You should watch where you are going, I need to check the tree.”

“I’m sure I’m the only one hurt here.” They laughed as she helped him to his feet.

She smiled at the memories of there two years of dating. He wouldn’t go anywhere without her with him. He enjoyed her every moment, and when they were apart he would send her sweet emails, blow kisses over the phone, wink at her if they were more than a foot apart. She felt as if she were the one for him. They bought the house. It was beautiful, everything they wanted. Then one night he didn’t come home from work until the early morning. Leaving her worried, questioning. He apologized that night too. Told her he’d gotten carried away with the boys down at the bar. Then it start happening two or three times a week, without a call, or a hint that he would be late. She sat in the house waiting, allowing only a few tears to escape her eyes. He had changed in that two years. It wasn’t all bad, but it was enough to make her feel unloved at times.

She arrived at the trail, and started to stretch, and as she began jogging, she continued to replay their relationship. She loves him, she knew that, and he loves her. Would he continue to change? Would the rest of their lives be like this past week? She continued to jog, and think about the good things. She realized that she was smiling, and as her breath escaped her mouth, she wished he was there in that moment. She turned around, headed home, so she could give him her answer. She walked slowly down Cherrylane quickly, still smiling. She saw him sitting on the stoop, head in hands looking distressed. Her walk became a jog, and became a halt when he lifted his face, and she saw the tear falling from his eyes. He stood up, and walked quickly towards her.

“Jade, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For not being the man I’m supposed to be.” He let a few more tears escape.

“Yes.”

“Yes I know I’ve not done right by you, but I want to make it up to you.”

“No, Yes.”

“What?” He questioned.

“My answer is yes. Yes you’ve been lacking in showing me affection, but you’ve never been any less of a man then when I first met you. You love me, I never doubted that. What I did doubt was whether our love could make it over speed bumps life throws at us, and as I was running, I found my answer. I didn’t tell you how I felt about you staying out all night, it’s as much of my fault then yours. The only thing I wanted was you to call telling me that you would be late, so I wouldn’t sit around her waiting worried. When you did come home I was relieved, and making love this past week was more than enough to show me that those drunken sex sections are another part of you I’ve come to love. I just want to be apart of every aspect of you. I find myself smiling anytime I’ve thought about you, even then. So my answer is yes.” He leaned in and caressed her face, kissed her softly, and continued to allow the tears to fall through his smile. Forehead to forehead, breath to breath, he whispered, “I love you Jade,” and she whispered back, “I love you too baby.”

Doris the neighbor gossip was walking her Highland Terrier down the street watching the two of them holding each other.

“She said yes.” Kyle said to her with excitement, and Jade giggled.

“Well it’s about damn time.” She replied walking faster down the street. They laughed and went into the house.

Wedding plans began that night as he made love to her. It was how she imagined it. He had been thinking about it all along, and planned it to a tee. She couldn’t believe his ideas. Eight months later they were married by the Hawthorne tree that brought them together. After the I do’s, smile to smile, breath to breath, “I love you” was whispered into their kiss sealing their union, forever.