Fiction by Candle Light

There was an electrical outage in Denver on Saturday night that left several city blocks without power for roughly two hours…
It was around 8pm when I sat down to my computer to do some research for my next book. My roomie had already left for work, so it was just me and the cats at home. I was in the middle of reading through my mother’s arrest records, when everything when dark!
Immediately after, there was a brief surge of power that sent all of us about five feet in the air!
I grabbed my phone (thank you flashlight feature!) and navigated my way to light the candles strew about the apartment.

When I was finished, it looked like I was holding a vigil in here. It was kind of creepy…
After I calmed the kitties (and myself), I stepped onto my balcony to asses the damage. From the twelfth floor, I could see that I was directly in the middle of several darkened city blocks. Street lights, traffic lights, interior lights, all nonexistent. Thankfully, there were already police officers stationed at every intersection (that I could see) with a downed light. Pretty impressive considering it happened less than 5 minutes ago.
At first it was mostly silent around me. I just stood there, leaning against my patio door, memorized by the reflection of the police lights off the windows of a neighboring high-rise.

The silence was eventually broken with the sound of balcony doors opening as those around me ventured outside to investigate. I could hear the guys on the balcony above me talking amongst themselves about how creepy it was that our entire building and those around it seemed to fade into the blackness around us. Two blocks to the west, the buildings had power, which was the only thing illuminating our view of the surrounding area.
As the glow of residual lights loomed from the surrounding sky scrapers, my mind began to wander. The scene was like that out of a horror movie. I could see the potential for a zombie apocalypse just around the corner…

I started thinking about the situation I would be in, if (worst case scenario) I needed to hold up in my apartment for an indefinite amount of time.

My food situation wasn’t the greatest, but it would sustain me for a few days at least. I have two cupboards filled with bulk items, such as beans, rice, nuts, lentils, etc. There is some meat in the freezer and mostly fresh fruits and veggies in the refrigerator, but that wouldn’t last very long if the power never came back on.

If I am lucky enough to have power restored, even for a short period of time, I would try to cook up and/or dehydrate what I could to extend my rations. Water would be an issue as well. I have about a gallon of water in the refrigerator, but I should also try to fill up the bathtubs in the apartment if at all possible. A gallon of water would not last me more than a few days.
I knew that I would eventually have to venture out of the apartment, but the thought of navigating twelve flights of stairs down to a possibly still present glass entry door is not something I want to think about right now.

I looked up the outage on my phone and the power company estimated that power would be restored within the hour. “Well that’s promising” I thought. I decided to pick up a book and wait out the darkness. I curled up on the couch next to one of the freshly light candles and began to immerse myself into the world of fantasy.

Several pages in, I was interrupted by a noise outside. It sounded like a woman screaming or yelling something?! Living in downtown Denver, this is something I am used to. I really didn’t think much of it. It was Saturday night, so I assumed it was someone from the bar down the street.

I went back to reading and just a few minutes later, I heard it again. Only this time it didn’t stop and it was no longer an isolated scream, but a blood curling group of screams just outside my window.

I jumped up and ran to the balcony. Looking in the direction of the bar, I could see a great deal of commotion in the streets, but I couldn’t make out exactly what was happening.

Remembering that I still had my grandfather’s binoculars in my bed room, I ran to retrieve them and returned to investigate. As I wiped the dust off the lenses, I could now see several individuals running away from the bar. I quickly put the binoculars up to my eyes and did my best to focus in on the people fleeing in my direction.

The lights were still out, but you almost couldn’t tell. The surrounding area was as bright as daylight from a combination of police and civilian vehicles lining the streets.

The closest person approaching the building was a woman wearing a barely present black dress. Her shoes were missing and she seemed to be limping. As I scanned up to her face, I could see the black stains from where her tears had caused her mascara to run. She had a look of pure terror in her eyes. Was she the one who was screaming earlier? What was she afraid of?

When I moved my gaze to the next person, I got my answer. Several feet behind her was a man, well what resembled a man.  His eyes were jet black and his face was covered in blood. He was running after her with his hands (also covered in blood) in the air making a horrible moaning sound.

My heart sank. This can’t be happening….I pinched myself…yup, felt it!…Holy sh!t, I’m totally screwed!

To be continued…

~ Well that was my first attempt at writing fiction. Not sure how good it was, but it was fun :)~

Image courtesy of Phaitoon at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

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What’s Your Story?

Faintly in the distance, I can see a glimmer of hope.

A glimmer of love and security in this crazy world.

Crowded by doubt and needful resolution, it struggles to come to surface.

Brighter days lie ahead, but we must have faith in their existence.

Through dark clouds and sorrow, comes wisdom and strength.

Strength to keep on fighting and wisdom to learn from our pain.

In life we lead a story.

Whether it be a tragedy, a drama or a comedy is only for us to decide.

What’s your story?

In Moments Like These…

I want so badly to break down and cry, but I know I need to be strong.

I want so badly to be angry, but I know I need to forgive.

I want so badly to run away from the world and never look back, but there’s no joy in that.

I want so badly to hate you, but I don’t.

Instead, I will stand up tall as I gaze upon the flames of the bridge you left behind.

As proud as a hero preparing for battle, I will look forward to this future still knocking at my door.

I tell myself I am powerful. I tell myself I am tough .

I remind myself that this too shall pass.

I will be strong.

I will forgive.

I will not run away and I will not cower.

Image courtesy of twobee at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Melancholy Snowfall

I am somber today.

Feeling grim and wistful towards the path that lies ahead.

As the melancholy snow races to the ground outside my window, I am reminded of the past.

It’s spring now and winter should be behind us.

Apparently mother nature has another plan in mind.

Mournful for the sun, I do my best to shake off the sorrow and look towards the light.

Its’ faint glimmer in the distance flickers once to assure me of it’s existence.

I reach for it.

Only to be drenched in regret.

Sopping and soaked, I weep.

I must be strong now. I must have faith.

Image courtesy of nuttakit at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

He’s Fading

There was a time not long ago when he was all that filled my thoughts.

He held my world in the palm of his hands and gripped it so tightly.

He’s fading.

I saw no future in which he did not exist.

I thought of him often with feelings of disdain and regret.

He’s fading.

A man who was once so prevalent in my life has moved on without me.

It used to hurt so much more than this.

The songs we once sang together drove a dagger through my heart and the prospect of life with out him was unnerving.

No longer.

He could never see all the potential in me.

He played me like a fiddle until every string had snapped and I was nothing but a shell of an instrument that once played such beautiful music.

He left me broken, baffled and bruised.

No longer.

Today, I danced in his memory and rejoiced in the lesson learned.

I thought of him without the old feelings of disdain and regret.

Instead, I find myself filled with forgiveness and absolution.

I treasure the joys that we shared and said goodbye to the discontent.

I am finally free, he’s fading…

Petals of Inspiration

Where does your inspiration come from? It’s different for everyone. To be honest, sometimes I am not sure where my inspiration is rooted, it just appears. I will be busying myself with daily tasks and out of nowhere a thought will come to me and I know I need to sit down and start a post. This is exactly how this post began. I was doing my daily reads this morning and the question of inspiration just popped into my mind.

There are so many talented writers out there and I began to wonder where their inspiration comes from. I know there are the obvious emotionally charged posts about struggles in love and life, but what about the poets and those who tell fictional stories? Do they do as I do and simply sit down with the empty page and let their fingers do the thinking? Or do they find themselves making an outline of what will be written before attempting to put it all together?

The source of one’s inspiration is fascinating to me. We live in a world full of variety and experience and I feel that everyone has their own story to tell, but what motivates one to tell it? More personally, what motivates me to tell it?

When I first started blogging, I found myself holding back and struggling to compose the perfect post every time. Now, after over a year in the blogging community, I find myself pouring it all on to the page regardless of its perfection. What has changed?

Now that is a question I can answer! I have changed. I have been told that I am inspiring. Which to me is the highest of all compliments and helps to give clarity to where my inspiration may be coming from; I have a wish to inspire others. More importantly, I have chosen to believe in the compliments given to me by others and in essence, I have chosen to believe in myself.

Having experienced the many struggles that I have, I hold an innate desire to comfort those in need, to bring hope to those who may be feeling hopeless. I know what it feels like to be alone in a world of possibilities that seem to be beyond your grasp. It is a state of emotional dissonance that leads to self-conflict and strife. Both feelings rooted in inadequacy and hopelessness.

As humans, I think we are plagued with so much worry and fear that it can stagnant our very existence. Such an existence is a waste of our potential for greatness. I am hopeful that everyone has a little piece of wonderful tucked down deep inside begging to get out, but we chain the doors with self-doubt and ineptitude rather than paving the path with petals of inspiration.

Don’t close the door to your heart, no matter how wounded it may be. I speak from experience and I can tell you that as much as you believe it to be your fortress from any impending storm, it will only lead to emotional demise and disconnect. As you build the walls around you in the hopes to defend yourself from pain and heartbreak, you are slowly closing yourself in brick by brick. As the mortar sets, what you once thought was your fortress becomes your tomb.

It has been said countless times that ‘with our many struggles comes our many strengths’. If we choose to lock ourselves away in a dungeon filled with struggle, we will find it very difficult to find our many strengths. Don’t close yourself off from the world. Embrace your pain and find encouragement in the strength that is sure to be the result of the battle you have just endured.

Try your best to grasp your inner hero, even after the war has ended.

May you all be inspired! ~ Thanks for Reading 🙂

The Prospect of Freedom

With the prospect of freedom from the 9-5 on the horizon, I am hopeful for the future and all of the new experiences that are sure to follow.

I am looking forward to waking up to beaming rays of sun on my face without the intrusive sound of mechanical buzzing from my alarm.

I shall drift to sleep in peace and arise just the same.

I will be free!

Free to daydream, free to explore, free to just be.

If not for long, for long enough.

For many, work is a necessary evil. It is not time spent doing something you enjoy, but rather time spent busying yourself with the nuances of modern society.

If you are lucky enough to have found a way to earn an income doing what you love, then you are one of the truly blessed. Be wise and never take this for granted.

For the rest of us, the work days can be long and grueling without the rewards of passion and self-reliance.  We get through it by dangling the carrot of inspiration in front of our faces until we are exhausted by the prospect of freedom.

Disillusioned by the idea that this is what is expected of us and simply the way it has always been.

Rubbish!

We create our own destiny. Each one of us is powerful in our own special way. We are not meant to be shoved in the corner of an office, pencil pushing all day just to pay the rent. There is so much more out there for us and within us, we just need to find a way to break free from the mundane life that has been put before us. A life declared as normal.

What is normal really? Doesn’t the definition vary according to who is defining it? Would you let someone else define who you are? Tell you who you are supposed to be, what you are supposed to do, who you are supposed to love?

I sure hope not!

These are questions you are meant to find the answers to yourself. It is okay to be unsure in the beginning.

Life is all about finding the answers.

Don’t be afraid to embrace your dreams, aspirations and you inner weird, it is what makes you, YOU!