Quietly you walk through the forest of my love,
tapping into the songs of my heart
wrapped in the tendrils rooting deep into the soft earth,
releasing a melody of adoration,
fertilizing the soil with a chorus done in
Quietly you walk through the forest of my love,
tapping into the songs of my heart
wrapped in the tendrils rooting deep into the soft earth,
releasing a melody of adoration,
fertilizing the soil with a chorus done in
In the forest of my mind,
A strong oak stands
on one path,
its branches braided together
in a massive crowning glory.
There also stands,
on another path,
A weeping willow,
bent over, as if under
a great weight.
Here stand I,
at the fork in the road;
which way shall I proceed?
Meow, meow, mew, meee-ow, mew...Oh, wait. I’m supposed to be doing this in ‘human’. Ahem.
No, no; that’s not right either...Hmmm...Ah-ha!
My name is Mitsy and this is my tail...er, tale...
I came into this world one sunny Sunday, April the second, the 3rd of 6 litter-mates. That I can remember, I was a happy kitten, frolicking and playing with my siblings, as felines are wont to do. Then one day, everything changed.
I was overjoyed at having killed my first mouse (after 15 minutes of playing with it) and was finishing off my impromptu snack, when my brother, Stinky, bounded into the basement.
“Bitsy,” (that was my name at the time) he squeaked, “guess what I just – EEW! Is that a mouse in your mouth?! Yu-uck!”
I slurped the tail into my mouth and mumbled, “Yeah”.
“Eeeeeewwww,” he repeated, louder, “where’d you get that?”
“In the corner, over by the water heater. And what do you mean ‘Ew’? You’re a cat and cats eat mice, du-uh!…or are you a pu-”
“Don’t you dare say that! That’s a bad word!”
“Or are you scared of mice? Is Stinky a big old ‘fraidy cat? ‘Fraidy cat, ‘fraidy cat, Stinky’s a smelly, ‘fraidy cat!”
“Am not!” Stinky swatted me and I batted back at him with my good, left front paw, connecting with the white fur under his chin, the only light patch in a sea of dark brown fur. His eyes glazed over and I knew I was about to take a tumble. Sure enough, he leaped on me, causing me to fall onto my back. A sharp pain went through me and as tears filled my kitty blues, I looked up at Stinky and saw some of my beautiful gray fur in his mouth.
“Stinky!” I howled, “What did you do?!”
Jumping back, my brother started tiptoeing backwards. “I…I didn’t mean to, Bitsy, I was just playin’!”
Before I could respond, I felt myself being picked up by the scruff of my neck. As I went limp, I realized that the scent of my carrier was unfamiliar. I became filled with a sense of fear and tried to fight but was unable to.
Suddenly, I saw a pair of human eyes staring at me. Wha-? My human’s eyes weren’t shaped like that! As I felt myself being moved backwards, I was able to see more of the face. It belonged to a female human child. She had long hair framing her elfin face and she was smiling broadly, showing several gaps where teeth should have been. She looked friendly enough, but who was she?
“Daddy! I want this one!” she squealed.
“Are you sure, honey? That’s the first one you looked at.”
As I tried to twist to see the source of the male voice and new scent, I found myself being repositioned so that I was being cradled like a human baby. From the new position, I was able to see the father of the little girl. He was not much taller than the girl and he was very thin but without being reedy. He was looking with amusement at his daughter, who had started rocking me back-and-forth.
“I’m sure, Daddy! He’s so cute! I’ll call him, um…”
Her oval eyes peered at me again, then she made her pronouncement. “Washington!”
Washington? My nose twitched. That was even worse than Bitsy, which I was no big fan of. Fortunately, my human, Miss Kate, had appeared.
“Sweetheart,” she said as she approached the girl, “Washington is a wonderful name but this kitty is a girl.”
Washington is a boy’s name, I thought. Lucky for me!
“Oooh!” the child squealed again, causing me to jump. “So then she can have kitties someday! Right, Dad?”
“She could, Sweetie, but we’ll have her fixed.”
I didn’t know what he meant by “fixed”, but I didn’t like the sound of it. Again, I tried to escape, just to be squeezed harder.
“Aw, dad, do we have to?”
Now I definitely did not like the sound of being “fixed”.
“Yes, we do, but it won’t hurt much.”
At the word “hurt”, I was off like a shot, diving out of the child’s arms and into my favorite hiding spot, a hole in the wall.
Unfortunately, Miss Kate was onto my spot. A broom handle invaded my place and I was forced to exit lest I get jabbed. As I came out, I scampered along the wall, furtively looking for a friendly face. Where had Stinky run off to? Where was my mommy? Not even nosy Rosie, who always came around when something was afoot, was in attendance.
Before I could get very far, the girl had swooped over and picked me back up. I fought until she put my paws together so then I tried biting, but she wouldn’t let any of her skin get close enough to my teeth.
“Ma’am, I believe your ad said something about a bag of treats and a toy,” the father said to Miss Kate.
“Oh! Yes,” she answered, “if you will just follow me back upstairs…”
As we headed to the upper floor, my carrier continued petting me. Funny, she didn’t even seem to notice my missing patch of fur.
When we reached the kitchen, I saw why my mother had not been about. She was in a contraption I later learned is a “carrier”. The nonhuman kind. As I fought again to escape the arms encircling me, I called to her.
“Mom! What’s happening? Why are you in that thing?”
“Oh, my baby! All of you are being taken from me!”
She started crying, which really frightened me. Never in my nine weeks of life had I ever seen her cry and now she was bordering on bawling. As I looked at her closer, I could see blood on her lips and front paws. What the -?
“What do you mean ‘taken’ from you? And why are you bloody?”
“I’m bloody from fighting this cage and by ‘taken’, I mean that you’re going to a new home. All of you are!”
By now, my mother was sobbing so hard, I could barely make out her next words.
“Rosie…and Bobby…and Ellie…and now you! Only Stinky and Trixie are left…they’re hiding somewhere, but it’ll do no good…they’ll be found, too!”
I started bawling, too. Leave? The only home I’ve ever known? Mommy! And my brothers and sisters! Nooooo!
I fought with all my might, but the child had learned her lesson and had a super-tight grip on me.
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Howell,” I heard the man say, and then I was being carried out into the sunlight. It felt good on my fur, but now was not the time to enjoy the heat; I was being kittynapped!
“Go on and put her in the carrier, hon,” the man addressed his daughter and I was suddenly flung – flung! – into a box like the one my mother was in. After I caught my breath, I started wailing again and was promptly rewarded with a face full of water.
Where’d that bottle come from?
I decided to try a different tactic, so I started mewing softly.
“Shut up, fur face,” the girl snarled. Oh! Where went the sweet child I had met earlier? “Don’t nobody want to hear your racket!” She held up the bottle again and I simmered down. The girl watched me for a while then, satisfied that I was going to stay quiet, she picked up a book and started reading.
Meanwhile, I had started feeling queasy because the father was driving fast and erratically, forgetting there was a helpless kitten, unused to riding in cars, aboard. After what seemed an eternity, I couldn’t hold it any longer and I vomited. Exhausted, missing my mother, and still feeling ill, I fell asleep in my prison, keeping as far from the vomit as I could. I don’t know if I dreamed any, but, little did I know, a real-life nightmare was just beginning.
“Did’ja get it? Huh, Dylan? Huh? Did’ja, did’ja? Huh, Dylan? Huh? Lemme see!”
Jumping awake, I looked around for the source of the noise and nearly jumped out of my fur. Staring at me inside of my cage was a boy who looked more like an elephant. I mean, even by human standards, he was huge!
Dylan growled, “No! I just got her! And she’s all mine!”
Elephant boy started whining in an ear-shattering, high-pitched voice that was unnerving coming out of a human his size.
“Mooooommy! I wanna play with the kitty! Mooommy!”
While the boy continued whining, Dylan took my carrier out of the car, which took off for parts unknown.
“Shut up, Blubber Butt,” she said to the boy and, setting my carrier on the ground, raised a fist to his face. It only made the boy yell louder.
Suddenly, there was an earthquake!…Oh, wait, that was the mother. She lumbered out of the house, which was starting to look tiny compared to her.
“Buford! What is it you call me for?” she asked in what I now think is a thick German accent.
“Mommy! Dylan won’t let me see kitty!”
“Dylan,” the mammoth turned to the girl, “now won’t you be good and let Bufy see your new pet?”
“Mo-ther!” she answered, irritated, “How ‘bout I deal with Pukeford and you get your fat butt back in the house and finish my cupcakes! And you better not eat any, either!”
Dylan stomped in her mother’s direction and the woman jumped out of the way, then headed back to the house, hustling Buford in front of her.
“You know not to call me when you’re having trouble with Dylan,” I could hear her fussing at him as they marched off.
©2008, Trina High
I have zero idea who this could eventually be marketed to, as I think adults and young adults may not be interested, but it's written too "old" for tweens. Still, I don't want to think about that too much right now, as it may hinder my writing. I'm sure I/we will figure it out when the time comes.
Hello. My name is Dahlia and I'm writing this cuz I wanted to tell things from my point of view.
So. I came to mommy cuz she found me for free on Craigslist. She was moving from a small town in Ohio to Chicago and she wanted a "furry burglar alarm". She was actually looking for other stuff on CL, but then she decided to look at the pets, too. When she saw an ad for "free black and white puppies", she contacted the poster and got the contact info. When she came to my used-to-be-home, she went and met my mommy and daddy and then my old owner took her to the garage, where me and my siblings were staying. Me being me, I was outside of the box we'd been in and when the garage door was opened, I came running from a far corner of the garage. The guy told mommy I was a girl - cuz mommy had said she'd wanted a girl - so she picked me up and we bonded, right then and there. She looked at my sisters, too, but it was more a formality than anything. So then, I went home with mommy.
On the way home, mommy talked to me alot; I couldn't understand english at that time, but I liked the sound of her voice. After going through a few names, she settled on Dahlia. She said the spots on my chest were Dalmation-like, but she also wanted to acknowlege my black parts, so while pronouncing "Dal", "Dah", "Dahl", she hit upon Dahlia and decided to go with it cuz of The Black Dahlia. But she calls me a lot of other names, too, like 'Snoot Face', 'Fuzzy Butt', 'Mooch Head', and sometimes 'Shadow'. And I think pappy wants me to wear clothes cuz he calls me things like 'Moocher McMoochy-Pants' and 'McStealy-Face Pants' when I take stuff that I find.
So anyhow, once we got home, she showed me my dish and some paper, but I didn't know what to do with it, then. Now I do, but I mostly go outside...Anyhow, once home, I cried some cuz I missed my old family, but mommy made sure to comfort and love on me alot. I also met Cinnamon, who is mommy's grandkitty, but Cin now lives with Jasmine, my flesh-sister, back in Ohio.
Not too long after mommy got me, she took me to get a check-up and shots. I hated that, though. At least she hasn't fixed me yet; she said she doesn't believe in fixing pets until they have at least one litter cuz she wouldn't have wanted anyone to take away her ability to have children (but she did get fixed after having Jasmine). And since she has people who'd want puppies, she could be sure they'll go to good homes when that time comes.
After a few months, me and mommy moved to Chicago. Boy, that was a looong trip, but mommy made sure to stop every couple of hours so I could go. In Chicago, we stayed with her cousin for a few months, then we moved to our own place, so it was just mommy and me. Then pappy got with mommy and he moved in about 2 years ago, so now it's us three.
During the day, pappy works from home and since she's not working right now, me and mommy "chill" in the living room, on the couch. I sit right by her side all day and follow her around wherever she goes, including the potty - what a weird thing that is...but anyhow, I love living with mommy and pappy so much. I even take mommy for walks every day (she thinks she walks me, but that's not it) and I've also trained them to share their leftovers with me. They say I'm "spoilt" all the time and I guess I am...I also used to sleep in the bed with mommy, when it was just me and her, but pappy stopped that, so now I just sleep on the floor by their bed.
Mommy has also teached me to sit and stay and lie down. Pappy's trying to teach me to shake, but it hasn't taken so far.
Oh, and I LOVE it when company comes. I wag and wag and wag my tail and sniff them all over! And when they sit down, I sit in their lap, if they let me. Fortunately, mommy and pappy's friends are cool like that; mommy says she'd have to teach me not to do that if they weren't. So I'm glad they have good friends like that.
And I'm SO smart, too. Not to ring my own bell, but mommy and pappy say that all the time. I admit, I have learned a lot of english in the last 5 and a-half years since I came to be with mommy. And I observe and learn stuff, too. Like, when mommy starts getting dressed, I know she's going outside and I start whining cuz she might leave me. But then when she gets the leash, I get so excited, I just jump all around and can hardly contain myself. But when she leaves me, I cry cuz I don't like it. I mean, pappy's cool and I LOVE his tummy rubs, but he's no mommy.
But the BEST thing is when I steal socks and stuff. Mommy and pappy don't like it, so they often bribe me to get me to let them go, so that means treats for me; they don't know that I'm onto that trick and I won't tell, so ssshhhh. But I think mommy may be getting smart, cuz now she'll sometimes get my leash and head for the door, so I'll let the sock or whatever go, but then we don't go anywhere! I hate when mommy tricks me like that!...I also learned how to open the 'fridge, but mommy and pappy blocked it, so now I can't get in it. Boo for that!
But I think the best thing for mommy is interpreting for me. I mean, she spends a LOT of the day speaking for me, in a baby voice, like she's saying what she imagines I'm saying. Pappy loves it, though, so she keeps going. And often, it's exactly what I'm feeling or thinking, too! I don't know how she does that. But if you wanna know what I mean, mommy has a video of me on Youtube. You can go to:
to see it and then you'll see how she does.
Are you still there? ... Thank you for reading about me and mommy and pappy. If you like us, let mommy know and one of us can do more Dahl stories on occasion.
Bye-bye for now. Woof woof!
Okay. From the top --
To ME, "religion" is a strict set of rules that one must follow to be a "Christian", things like saying a certain amount of Hail Marys or walking a certain way or dressing a certain way or eating/not eating certain things, and etc. I DO see the need for structure in a church setting, lest there be chaos as there is in ANY setting sans order. But that's as far as it goes.
To ME, my Christianity is strictly about relationship. About MY relationship with MY creator, MY God. Just like I wouldn't want a set of rules defining my relationship with my guy, I will not have a set of rules define my relationship with God... But that doesn't mean to say I don't believe in certain expectations; unless one is polyamorous, I believe one "requires" faithfulness in a romantic partner, so I can totally get down with Him wanting to be the only "God/god", even though I see our relationship as more analogous to parent and child, but whatever (sue me, why don't you?). Aside from that, I think everything else in my relationship with Him is based on what I should want to do, anyhow. Let me go back to my analogy with my guy. We do not have a contract that says I MUST serve him breakfast every morning, have sex with him 3x/week, give him back rubs every so often, watch TV with him nightly, etc. Yet, I do these kinds of things, not because I HAVE to, but because I WANT to. Similarly, since I WANT a relationship with MY God, I read the Bible because I WANT to better know Him. I sing praise songs because I WANT to thank Him for all that He's done for me, including letting me wake up this morning. I talk to Him because I WANT to...Think about it, what kind of relationship would a person have with someone else if one didn't talk to their partner ("partner" being whoever - lover, child, parent, friend, etc.) or care about just who their partner is or say "thank you" when gifted?
So, yeah; I also say "nay" to "religion", but I wholeheartedly embrace - say "aye to" -relationship.
~~ Just gonna drop this right here ~~
God was once approached by a scientist who said, “Listen, God, we’ve decided we don’t need you anymore. These days we can clone people, transplant organs, and do all sorts of things that used to be considered miraculous.”
God replied, “Don’t need Me, huh? How about we put your theory to the test. Why don’t we have a competition to see who can make a human being, say, a male human being.”
The scientist agrees, so God declares they should do it like He did in the good old days, when he created Adam.
“Fine,” says the scientist as he bends down to scoop up a handful of dirt.
“Whoa!” says God, shaking his head in disapproval. “Not so fast. You get your own dirt.”
And I'm pretty sure He means "created out of thin air", so ashes from burning something won't work.
You would think my wedding night was the happiest night of my life. You'd be wrong.
The year was 1991. The date was November 1st. I don't remember what the weather was like that day, but I have to guess it was your typical late-autumn day in northeast Ohio, with a chill in the air, leaves falling from the trees. You know, fall.
For me, however, the sun shone brightly on that morning, for it was the day I'd become Mrs. Trina High, brushing off my first married name like day-old bread.
We were having a priest come to our apartment, while his mother and sister would act as the two witnesses. We would liked to have had a mid-size or large wedding, but my fiancé's addiction to crack cocaine made it impossible to have anything but the bare essentials - and sometimmes not even that - so we were having the miniumum needed to make us legal.
Shortly before time to say "I do", my mother-in-law-to-be called to say she was held up at work, but she hoped to be there shortly after the appointed time. There was no word from his sister, so I assumed all was well with her.
Neither of our witnesses made it on time. I should have taken that as a sign, but still I insisted we go through with it, using neighbors in the apartment complex as witnesses, if need be.
So, with two people we barely knew watching, we said our vows, but I didn't mind, for I had finally become one with my man. Just as we were finishing up, his mother showed up, so per our plans, we decided to ride around to relatives' houses, to say hello as a newly-married couple.
I changed out of the pink evening gown of my mother's that I had "borrowed" into a nice skirt and sweater set, while he swapped his suit for corduroys and a sweater. Thus attired, we set out.
I don't recall everywhere we stopped, but I do recall the last stop, where we were just dropped off so his mother could go home. It was over his uncle's house. His uncle lived in one of the worst areas of town and sold marijuana, so I didn't particularly want to stop there, but he insisted and said we wouldn't be long.
After greeting his relative, we all sat down and engaged in the idle chit-chat that was typical for a visit over there. After about 20 minutes, my new husband said he was heading "down the block" for a moment. My heart sank, as I knew that meant he intended to get some of his powder, but I quieted my mind, telling myself he wouldn't be long, as it was our wedding night and we were both very much looking forward to it.
30 minutes later, I started worrying.
60 minutes later, I was trying to stay positive.
90 minutes later, his uncle was handing me a box of Kleenex.
As the minutes ticked by, ever-so-slowly, I began to second-guess myself. I was twenty-three and had just divorced my first husband seven months before. I knew my husband from high school, where I had crushed on him for the 4 months or so before he was transferred to another school. Unbeknownst me to, he had returned my feelings, but never got a chance to say so, so when we finally declared our love five years after graduating, we wasted no time in deciding to solidify things. Also, I was naive about the world of drugs. I had lived a mostly sheltered life, being raised by two upstanding parents who didn't so much as curse in front of me, let alone do anything straight-up illegal. So I believed my guy when he told me he was just having a rough time and would kick the habit again, as he had been clean for over a year when we met up and he only went back because he was nervous about impending fatherhood (I was five months pregnant at the time of our wedding).
120 minutes after he had left, my new husband was still a no-show and I was seriously considering calling my father, to have him come get me. Where I wanted him to take me, I didn't know, but I didn't want to sit there, under my new uncle-in-law's pitying gaze, any longer.
Just as I was opening my mouth to ask to use the phone, he showed up. 133 minutes after having left. He apologized profusely and asked his uncle to take us home.
I tried to be happy - who wants to spend their wedding night crying and arguing? - but the damage was already done and with that, the death knell rang on our marriage. It took nearly eighteen years to come to fruition in the form of divorce, but come it did. And it all started on that night. My wedding night.
Another true story from my life...Me and wedding days just don't mix well, do we (see my post just before this one for elaboration)? Still, I'm sure that if I ever marry my current love, the third will truly be the charm.
She stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror in the bedroom. Wearing a gold-colored gown recently purchased from the thrift store, she watched as tears began to run their race from her brown eyes down to her flushed cheeks, messing up her carefully applied makeup. She always knew she'd cry on her wedding day, but never did she imagine they would be from anything but joy. What had brought her to this moment? How had her life that had started with such promise turn into such a corkscrew?
She thought about her estranged parents. Like most teenagers, she hadn't liked their rules, so she left, in search of greener pastures. That road, which was neither yellow nor brick, had taken her to sleeping on various friends' couches then into an affair with a married man and finally to this moment, where she would soon say "I do" to a man over twice her age. She had only agreed because, after inviting her to "temporarily" live with him rent-free, he had then threatened to toss her out if she said no and she didn't want to go back to wondering every day where she would lie her head that night. Nor was returning to her parents' house an option; to her, this marriage-to-be was still the lesser of two evils.
Her soon-to-be husband knocked on the door. "Are you about ready?"
"Yes. Just a moment."
"Just a moment what?"
"Just a moment...honey." She nearly choked on the endearment as it stung her tongue and her throat, as the bile from such a lie made its way to her stomach to mix with the acid therein.
Making sure she had her something old (a pretty heart necklace she "borrowed" from a friend), something new (her golden slippers with the lovely ribbon laces, tied just so) something borrowed (a hair-clip really borrowed from another friend, now helping to hold her light brown hair in a poorly-made bun), and something blue (some of the fake flowers in her "bouquet"), she tried to tell herself that it wouldn't be so bad. That Larry really did love her and would treat her well. She actually smiled for a moment, thinking about the way he'd approach her counter at her job at McDonald's and order his usual. "Coffee with two creams and no need for sugar; just swirl your pinky finger in it and it'll be sweet enough," he'd say. She used to laugh at his joke, thinking he was just being a funny old man, but then he got serious and his words made her shiver with fear rather than delight.
Oh, my God, I can't do this! she thought. I have to get out of this, somehow...but how?!
Before she could fully formulate a plan, there was another knock on the door.
"It's time. The minister's here and so are our witnesses. Hurry up!"
"Yes...dear," she said, despair settling in her stomach. With one last look in the mirror, she cleared her throat, clutched her little bouquet and headed for the door, to begin what for most women would be their dream day, but for her would be the beginning of a nightmare.
This' actually a true story, taken from my life, from when I married my first husband... I won't post it in this challenge, but I'll post another tale from my second terrible wedding day in 'Nonfiction'... Yes, seriously.
My words are like soldiers,
marching ever forward,
charging to do battle
with your emotions.
They throw a bayonet at your fears,
launch a grenade at your worries.
My words are like repeating rifles,
pounding into you until you bleed
never mind the whites of your eyes;
my words want to see the
tears of your eyes.
I last saw you many years ago. I was on a business trip, in Washington, D.C. As I stood, waiting for a sub, I saw you slightly down the platform. You took my breath away, you were so attractive. I wanted to rush over to you and introduce myself, but being the shy creature I am, I did not. Then the sub came and it whisked us away, in two different cars. I never learned your name, you were never more than just a face to me. But still I thought about you.
Whatever happened to you?