Heal

Genre: Psychological, Dark

 

Heal

 

Am I healing?

 

What’s taken place, and what has been. What is no more, what no longer is.

What will be – I do not know.

The climb has been steady, with pitfalls and highs along its way.

The trajectory points up and forward, despite it being impossible to see.

The highs get higher, the laughter gets louder. On the flipside though, and there is a big one, the lows are much lower.

It’s no wonder each day I am comatose. I can’t take the stimulation of the highs as much as I’m unable to take the desperation of the lows.

If there is a middle road, I’m yet to walk it.

Pain is there, as I journey through hell. I’m traversing it, on it I’m balancing, and I’m holding my breath. Because at any time, I might fall.

 

So. Am I healing?

 

Things could be how they were. When I had no one, when nothing was all I did have. Hard work has made it better, although the lows contradict and tell me otherwise.

But I’m still here, so I carry on. Climbing, breathing and surviving.

One day I may be okay, one day I may heal. And Until that day comes, despite my tortured soul, I’ll hold on and hang on to the what that may well be:

I am free.

 

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DailyPost Prompt – ‘Heal’. Click here to view

 

‘Daddy, Please Don’t’

(folks, this may be a trigger for some. read wisely)

Genre: Tragedy, Psychological, Dark.

 

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photo source

‘Daddy, Please Don’t’

 

Every day I see mommy crying. ‘Don’t cry mommy, please don’t cry’, and she wipes her tears while she is holding me close to her.

Daddy comes home and mommy always tells me, really quietly, to ‘be a good boy now, Daddy’s home and I need you to go to your room and stay there okay? go, go on’.

Daddy is shouting at mommy again. I see through my opened door my mommy on the floor crying: She has a bloody face again.

Daddy see’s me and yells, ‘get over here you little bastard. see? see what you made me do? you little shit’. mommy is begging him to stop, but it’s too late. Daddy hits me across my face and it hurts. But I won’t cry.

Daddy hits me again. Then he leaves, slamming the front door.

I crawl over to my mommy and we both sit huddled, and cry.

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VisDare 108: Voice. Visit Angela’s site here for weekly story prompts.

 

Regret, Love and the Sea

Genre: Tragedy

 

A line of benches overlooking the sea
A line of benches overlooking the sea

 

 

Regret, Love and the Sea

 

I sit here looking out at the sea thinking about all that ‘could have been’ in these 89 years. And I can’t help but wonder why he and I met and why I stopped looking for him. He was everything I wanted: stable, kind, handsome, a great career…He was perfect, in my eyes anyway, he always was.

Maybe I should have searched harder, hired that private investigator which I entertained more than once. But something always held me back, it was as if there was an invisible block there and I couldn’t push past it…And I still don’t understand it.

I guess I thought he would come find me; he said he would, but he never came.

I should have done what I’m about to do a long time ago. Hindsight is always in 20/20: And if I had known I’ll be sitting here at this age, I would have done this 40 years ago when I last saw him.

Anyway…10 more minutes to look out at the troubled sea before I head back. I have enough pills now and a large bottle of rum to wash them down with.

And after all these years of pain… I’ll finally have my peace and closure.

 

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Picture prompt thanks to ‘Sunday Photo Fiction’ here

On the Way to Shangri-la

 Genre: That’s Life

In Shangri-la Then and Now!

 

 

On the Way to Shangri-la

“Don’t be sad…I did have a great life after all and enjoyed it immensely. You gave me a home when my first owner discovered he was allergic to me; and you all took me in. And who did I meet? My brother! You already had him and we got to be reunited! And the fun we had…Sheesh!!

I’m still around even in spirit and always nearby – I like your new dog by the way!

Always remember me as I am in this photo; not as I was shortly after when it was my time to go. But know this, I’m still here, and please take comfort in that. And Thanks… You gave me the best life!

You all forever have my love”

🙂

 

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Friday’s Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge 29/5/2015 – ‘On The Way’ – here with a story to go with it

 

 

Writers – Beware of this….

Want someone to read your writing work and story’s?…Be very careful who you choose as it can bode either well for you or plain bad.

– Let’s call this person Joe.

I thought I’d read Joe one of my story’s, in fact it was the last story I wrote: ‘Ne Plus Ultra’. I didn’t twig it at the time, but it was Joe’s negative and derogatory remark that subconsciously stopped me from writing.

To have Joe surprised that it was me who wrote it (I don’t share my story’s with anybody) felt good, but the next second being mocked that my story content was a load of bull****, was shocking.

~ When asking someone to read over your work, make sure they know something about writing and that they are in support of you ~

Some people like to put others down to make themselves feel better and care nothing for the hurt they will cause in doing so.

Joe’s reaction to my story was disgraceful and Bad. It wasn’t about my story, it was about him and who he is. And…It wasn’t even a critique, but a plain and simple put down.

Now you all understand the gist of what I am trying to say… Be very careful who you let read your words: You’ll either be lifted and encouraged or slammed like I was.

People have their own agendas… Just make sure you know who is behind you.

~ Vic 🙂

 

 

 

 

The Dead Earth

Genre: Dystopian/Apocalyptic, Tragedy

 

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

Photo – © 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

The Dead Earth

 

Once upon a time in a land far, far away, the vegetation was lush, green and abundant: Then it changed.

Pollution, Chemical Spills and Acid Rain Storms killed off all what we had. Farms and crops and livestock – dead. There was nothing left to feed on and millions died.

The water from our rivers and lakes are now poison to our flesh. The air is so thick with deathly chemical waste that gas masks we wear day and night.

None of us know how long we’ll survive.

This wasn’t an accident: For decades there were warnings – all which went ignored. They knew this would happen and Campaigning did little, though it was fought tirelessly.

And, this now, is the result of man’s greed. The lust for power and wealth. What can man do with that now?

It’s over.

This is what the Earth has become… permanently uninhabitable: Dead.

 

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This is my 1st entry into ‘Monday’s Finish the Story’ and what fun it has been (even though it’s a miserable story!) Still enjoyed it! 🙂 ‘Here’ is the link.

Where We Tread

Genre: Dystopian/Apocalyptic

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Photo Source

Where We Tread

 

Who knew this would happen. Without warning, the blaze hit like a volcanic eruption. Rivers and lakes became steam, and the charring land blackened.

We know we have to keep moving. We are heading east, to get as close to the sea-line as we possibly can.

The wreckage, the disaster, the panic.
Abandoned vehicles, mangled roads.
Broken down buildings, homes in ruins.

Drifters are all that are left, the lucky few that survived; or the unlucky.

We have to be as high above ground as we can; the earth is still scorched and the air is not breathable. Though, the farther east we travel, less dense is the fog that burns our lungs.

Time is no longer important, that stopped when the catastrophe happened. Now, all we have left is hope and faith, and even that dwindles.

Our homes and loved ones are gone. Millions have perished from hunger and disease. There really is nothing left.

We cannot go back, so all we can do is keep moving, keep travelling east and hope the salvation we are searching for awaits.

Warily and carefully we continue.

 

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Thank you Angela Goff for another VisDare writing challenge here