sandflea68
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My words seek color as does my art. Unique characters throb my soul. Published author of 2 books.
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Written by sandflea68 in portal Haiku

Green Mantles

Dark green velvet moss

drapes the earthen roots in cloaks

high fashion clothing.

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Written by sandflea68 in portal Haiku
Green Mantles
Dark green velvet moss
drapes the earthen roots in cloaks
high fashion clothing.

#haiku  #Habbadashery 
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Written by sandflea68 in portal Haiku

Sunshine on the Ground

Daisies rouse from nap

Petals flirt along strewn path

Loves me, loves me not!

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Written by sandflea68 in portal Haiku
Sunshine on the Ground
Daisies rouse from nap
Petals flirt along strewn path
Loves me, loves me not!

#haiku  #TellMeYourAnswerTrue 
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According to a 2017 study done by me, stardustfalling (PhD in imagination, depression, and depressing poetry), "I'm fine" is the most commonly told lie in the world. Write about it, in any format you choose.
Written by sandflea68 in portal Stream of Consciousness

Fine Lies

Wailing at reality of tear strewn eyes,

immersed in barrage of uncharted waters,

duped by shadows looming over dreams,

thoughts of disaster tottering in skids.

pinpricks of pain coursing through veins.

isolated with whispers of utter dejection,

life sealed with molten wax, dripping as

thighs become numb and paralyzed,

fleeing from pending doom of mortality,

nose diving into endless pool of mud

pleading for heartbeat to flatten spikes

confronting faces of empty promises

sagging forward - impending death prevails

But “I am fine,” I proclaim, as I spurt down path

of my past, hoping I still can find who I am.

11
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According to a 2017 study done by me, stardustfalling (PhD in imagination, depression, and depressing poetry), "I'm fine" is the most commonly told lie in the world. Write about it, in any format you choose.
Written by sandflea68 in portal Stream of Consciousness
Fine Lies
Wailing at reality of tear strewn eyes,
immersed in barrage of uncharted waters,
duped by shadows looming over dreams,
thoughts of disaster tottering in skids.
pinpricks of pain coursing through veins.
isolated with whispers of utter dejection,
life sealed with molten wax, dripping as
thighs become numb and paralyzed,
fleeing from pending doom of mortality,
nose diving into endless pool of mud
pleading for heartbeat to flatten spikes
confronting faces of empty promises
sagging forward - impending death prevails
But “I am fine,” I proclaim, as I spurt down path
of my past, hoping I still can find who I am.

#challenge  #imfine 
11
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9
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Turn negativity into something positive. So with all the negative we've had i wanted to try to take a less than ideal situation and lets find something positive in it together. What was something good that came out of dating your ex? Ended badly? Hate him/her? Well you loved them for a reason. What is something they did for you or your life that was positive?
Written by sandflea68 in portal Nonfiction

Word Flowers

Barren eyes starved of beauty

cry in rain bursts with the sky

while writer unsheathes pen,

capturing torrents of anger and pain

concealed deeply within her heart,

escaping regrets, sorting them in jars.

Silent bony screams beat on veins,

cold, icy winds search for cathartic exit.

Artist resuscitates dying soul tree

with leftover breaths of darkness.

Heaviness surrounds her heart as she

spits out the embers onto her page,

engraving words on skin of thoughts,

clumps of sorrow, chinks in her walls,

inhaled threats of no tomorrow.

Plants word flowers within herself,

waiting for them to unfold

in delicate blooms protected

from onslaught of bitter storms.

Clouds of despair deafening heart

make room for human spirit, warming

the miracle of life unleashing

in enlightened bolts of enchantment.

Cruel memories whirl into distance

as happiness is unshackled from minds

chaperoning the free flight of sunshine.

The true artist sees the beauty of angst

but captures the fingernail moon of joy

for those who yearn to share the light.

23
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7
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Turn negativity into something positive. So with all the negative we've had i wanted to try to take a less than ideal situation and lets find something positive in it together. What was something good that came out of dating your ex? Ended badly? Hate him/her? Well you loved them for a reason. What is something they did for you or your life that was positive?
Written by sandflea68 in portal Nonfiction
Word Flowers
Barren eyes starved of beauty
cry in rain bursts with the sky
while writer unsheathes pen,
capturing torrents of anger and pain
concealed deeply within her heart,
escaping regrets, sorting them in jars.
Silent bony screams beat on veins,
cold, icy winds search for cathartic exit.
Artist resuscitates dying soul tree
with leftover breaths of darkness.
Heaviness surrounds her heart as she
spits out the embers onto her page,
engraving words on skin of thoughts,
clumps of sorrow, chinks in her walls,
inhaled threats of no tomorrow.
Plants word flowers within herself,
waiting for them to unfold
in delicate blooms protected
from onslaught of bitter storms.
Clouds of despair deafening heart
make room for human spirit, warming
the miracle of life unleashing
in enlightened bolts of enchantment.
Cruel memories whirl into distance
as happiness is unshackled from minds
chaperoning the free flight of sunshine.
The true artist sees the beauty of angst
but captures the fingernail moon of joy
for those who yearn to share the light.

#challenge  #NegativeIntoPositive 
23
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What is passion? Describe what passion means to you.
Written by sandflea68

Rumpled Sheets

Naked and raw in rhythm of waves,

story written before our birth

in wet whispers between lips.

Sensations of temptations -

an erotic insanity consuming

freedom of silky breezes,

embracing shared secrets,

chills traversing spine.

Lathered intimacy melts

in embrace of fondling

and tasting in rippling

strokes at dusk.

Wild abandon in shadows

of moonlit dew,

silvery shivers, provocative

touches, riding on steeds,

enticing perfume of senses.

Teasing, pleasing, releasing,

moaning, groaning.

Fingers on soft skin

speaking your language.

rumpled sheets of passion.

17
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What is passion? Describe what passion means to you.
Written by sandflea68
Rumpled Sheets
Naked and raw in rhythm of waves,
story written before our birth
in wet whispers between lips.
Sensations of temptations -
an erotic insanity consuming
freedom of silky breezes,
embracing shared secrets,
chills traversing spine.
Lathered intimacy melts
in embrace of fondling
and tasting in rippling
strokes at dusk.
Wild abandon in shadows
of moonlit dew,
silvery shivers, provocative
touches, riding on steeds,
enticing perfume of senses.
Teasing, pleasing, releasing,
moaning, groaning.
Fingers on soft skin
speaking your language.
rumpled sheets of passion.

#challenge  #passion 
17
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Write about a love-hate relationship between two people.
Written by sandflea68

ONE

Hate came storming in the door

        squalling, yelling, howling

ready to drill into damaged heart.

Hate had watched Love through cracks

distorting exposed image in his mind,

contaminating her senses, stole her soul

        squalling, yelling, howling

Foggy darkness of imperfect Hate

damned to Hell where lonely lies,

larger and larger, the cyclone grows,

dehydrated thoughts, waning passion

        squalling, yelling, howling

Love is the conqueror and purifies pith

seizes Hate’s emotions whirling in space.

Love flows like lava into crevices of Hate,

warming the cold and sadness therein,

melts the ice from Hate’s furrowed brow

        soothing, softening, calming

Meeting in middle, Love and Hate become

                          ONE

29
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Write about a love-hate relationship between two people.
Written by sandflea68
ONE
Hate came storming in the door
        squalling, yelling, howling
ready to drill into damaged heart.
Hate had watched Love through cracks
distorting exposed image in his mind,
contaminating her senses, stole her soul
        squalling, yelling, howling
Foggy darkness of imperfect Hate
damned to Hell where lonely lies,
larger and larger, the cyclone grows,
dehydrated thoughts, waning passion
        squalling, yelling, howling
Love is the conqueror and purifies pith
seizes Hate’s emotions whirling in space.
Love flows like lava into crevices of Hate,
warming the cold and sadness therein,
melts the ice from Hate’s furrowed brow
        soothing, softening, calming
Meeting in middle, Love and Hate become
                          ONE

#challenge  #lovehaterelationship 
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Written by sandflea68

Bahama Red Intrigue on The High Seas – now in Prose Bookstore

Come along for the ride during the turbulent times in the 1970’s in Miami and the Bahamas when former innocent, Bahama Red operated her skin diving charter boat business from Miami to the Bahamas. Bahama Red, Intrigue on the High Seas, definitely promises a thrilling ride through reckless and frenzied times when drug runners were rampant and Miami was a wide-open lawless town! While Bahama Red’s virtue was corroded at times and became somewhat tarnished when she skirted the law, she valiantly attempted to avoid the wantonness and rashness of the times. Become immersed in the story to feel the sense of adventure and excitement course through the characters' veins. The unique and captivating characters will enthrall all who expect a good time. This is about Bahama Red’s operation of the business, her encounters with smugglers, deaths and tragedies and stories about the people encountered on the boat docks, on the waters and in her life. The book also chronicles the upheaval of the race riots in Miami and the facts surrounding the Mariel Boatlift of refugees from Cuba to Miami, in which she was involved. It is a testimony of the factors that can eventually erode a business and its owner, like an insidious drop of water, over time, can gradually wear down a rock. Watch as Bahama Red fights this erosion by plunging forth into a new and promising future. Swallow this story in greedy gulps when facing the challenge of believing some of the incidents that occurred. But it is guaranteed that this story will prove to be intoxicating to all. Dive in!

11
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Written by sandflea68
Bahama Red Intrigue on The High Seas – now in Prose Bookstore
Come along for the ride during the turbulent times in the 1970’s in Miami and the Bahamas when former innocent, Bahama Red operated her skin diving charter boat business from Miami to the Bahamas. Bahama Red, Intrigue on the High Seas, definitely promises a thrilling ride through reckless and frenzied times when drug runners were rampant and Miami was a wide-open lawless town! While Bahama Red’s virtue was corroded at times and became somewhat tarnished when she skirted the law, she valiantly attempted to avoid the wantonness and rashness of the times. Become immersed in the story to feel the sense of adventure and excitement course through the characters' veins. The unique and captivating characters will enthrall all who expect a good time. This is about Bahama Red’s operation of the business, her encounters with smugglers, deaths and tragedies and stories about the people encountered on the boat docks, on the waters and in her life. The book also chronicles the upheaval of the race riots in Miami and the facts surrounding the Mariel Boatlift of refugees from Cuba to Miami, in which she was involved. It is a testimony of the factors that can eventually erode a business and its owner, like an insidious drop of water, over time, can gradually wear down a rock. Watch as Bahama Red fights this erosion by plunging forth into a new and promising future. Swallow this story in greedy gulps when facing the challenge of believing some of the incidents that occurred. But it is guaranteed that this story will prove to be intoxicating to all. Dive in!
#ProseBookstore  #AdventureFiction 
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Your name is Joe. You live in Florida. Tell your story!
Written by sandflea68

My Name is Joe

My name is Joe. I was named after an old mutt that my Pa kept under the floorboards of the front porch. When he became angry at me, he threw me under the porch with the dog with bowls of insect infested dog food. Sometimes, I stayed there for days but I would try to sneak out at night if it was raining to catch water in my cupped hands. If I was able to capture enough rainwater, I would try to clean the flea bites marching up my legs. The ole dog knew better than to venture out and become kicked by my Pa so I’d try to get some water in his dog bowl. I loved ole Joe Dog – he was the only creature in my life that cared about me as he licked my face and wagged his tail.

One day, I decided to leave this house of misery, carrying ole Joe dog with me as I tried to hold his jaw shut so he wouldn’t bark. All of a sudden, my Pa came roaring out of the house, knocked my only friend out of my arms and kicked him viciously with his hard toed boots until he was torn and lifeless. I looked around for a weapon, grabbing an old floor board from the porch and whacked Pa on the back of his head until he was bloody and had stopped breathing.

Pa was heavy as I dragged his limp body under the porch and laid him next to Mama’s bones. Oh, did I forget to tell you what Mama had done to me before she died? She treated me worse than Pa did. Pa never knew what had happened to her, thinking that she had finally left him.

But I knew what had happened to Ma so long ago and I never regretted it for a moment. I lived in that old house for the rest of my life, adding more bodies to the ones under the house, stacking them neatly in a pile.

18
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Your name is Joe. You live in Florida. Tell your story!
Written by sandflea68
My Name is Joe
My name is Joe. I was named after an old mutt that my Pa kept under the floorboards of the front porch. When he became angry at me, he threw me under the porch with the dog with bowls of insect infested dog food. Sometimes, I stayed there for days but I would try to sneak out at night if it was raining to catch water in my cupped hands. If I was able to capture enough rainwater, I would try to clean the flea bites marching up my legs. The ole dog knew better than to venture out and become kicked by my Pa so I’d try to get some water in his dog bowl. I loved ole Joe Dog – he was the only creature in my life that cared about me as he licked my face and wagged his tail.

One day, I decided to leave this house of misery, carrying ole Joe dog with me as I tried to hold his jaw shut so he wouldn’t bark. All of a sudden, my Pa came roaring out of the house, knocked my only friend out of my arms and kicked him viciously with his hard toed boots until he was torn and lifeless. I looked around for a weapon, grabbing an old floor board from the porch and whacked Pa on the back of his head until he was bloody and had stopped breathing.

Pa was heavy as I dragged his limp body under the porch and laid him next to Mama’s bones. Oh, did I forget to tell you what Mama had done to me before she died? She treated me worse than Pa did. Pa never knew what had happened to her, thinking that she had finally left him.

But I knew what had happened to Ma so long ago and I never regretted it for a moment. I lived in that old house for the rest of my life, adding more bodies to the ones under the house, stacking them neatly in a pile.
#challenge  #JoesStory 
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We always have asked ourselves, "What is the meaning of life?". But I ask you to stop and ask yourself, what is life itself? Don't forget to tag me!
Written by sandflea68 in portal Stream of Consciousness

Knockin'

Life strolls the oceans of time

watery gunshot clouds reflected

in snapshots of motionless being

bursting with energy from womb

        hard times come a knockin’

cracks of understanding erode

dusty pocketfuls of the past

receptacles holding insipid memories

the color of red earthen clay

molded by hands, shattered by age

        hard times come a knockin’

rain in soul whispers drips from trees

pitting serenity of peace in grains of sand

unsettled flakes of cold freezing dreams

a thousand thoughts swirling around me

immersed in my struggling troubled soul

        hard times come a knockin’

showers awaken steep cliffs of passion

intoxication of moonlight touches my brow

white roses stand up and sing in choruses

vestiges of sin move over to make room

for shadowed hands sharing the stars

warmth of the sun shifts and changes

reflection dulls insanity of screams

making way for encircling arms of love

        life itself comes a knockin’

27
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We always have asked ourselves, "What is the meaning of life?". But I ask you to stop and ask yourself, what is life itself? Don't forget to tag me!
Written by sandflea68 in portal Stream of Consciousness
Knockin'
Life strolls the oceans of time
watery gunshot clouds reflected
in snapshots of motionless being
bursting with energy from womb
        hard times come a knockin’
cracks of understanding erode
dusty pocketfuls of the past
receptacles holding insipid memories
the color of red earthen clay
molded by hands, shattered by age
        hard times come a knockin’
rain in soul whispers drips from trees
pitting serenity of peace in grains of sand
unsettled flakes of cold freezing dreams
a thousand thoughts swirling around me
immersed in my struggling troubled soul
        hard times come a knockin’
showers awaken steep cliffs of passion
intoxication of moonlight touches my brow
white roses stand up and sing in choruses
vestiges of sin move over to make room
for shadowed hands sharing the stars
warmth of the sun shifts and changes
reflection dulls insanity of screams
making way for encircling arms of love
        life itself comes a knockin’
#challenge  #LifeItself 
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We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by sandflea68 in portal Publishing

Chapter One - Half of Me is Missing

“I don’t belong here. I’m not like the others. We don’t look the same or act the same. I don’t understand their sense of humor. They are crude and I am refined. I am intelligent and their capabilities are mediocre. I don’t fit into this family. How did I get here? It isn’t fair! I don’t like these people. I don’t like where I live. I deserve much better. Please, doctor, explain my situation. I don’t deserve to suffer in a place where I should not be. I can’t understand it! Help me, help me! I can’t go on any longer. I would rather be dead than in these circumstances! Part of me is missing. I have known this all my life!”

Jasmine was pacing the floor in my inner office in Portland, Oregon, twisting her hands, agitatedly. I noticed that she seemed to have little control of her body or her thoughts. Her fevered rosy cheeks and full lush mouth intoxicated me against my will. Jasmine pushed her black, silky curls back from her beautiful, distraught face as she begged me for some explanation. Tears were coursing from her luminescent green eyes, leaving a transparent trail down her cheeks, as she sobbed in my office.

I am Dr. Engels and I desperately want to help my patient. However, I have no inkling as to why she feels this way or how to help her. This is the first time I have ever seen Jasmine cry which makes me wonder whether we have reached a breakthrough. The past few months, she has been sullen and uncommunicative although she finally admitted that she has no feeling or empathy for her family. I have no recourse but to adjust her medications and to seek answers from other psychiatrists. Before I discuss her hypothetical case with other doctors, I decide to ask Jasmine’s parents to come into the office to see if they can shed some light on her perplexing and bewildered thoughts. Jasmine is now twenty. I can see no hope for her until we can get to the bottom of these aberrations. I hate to admit to myself that she is so physically lovely that I can’t help feeling a stirring in my loins every time I scrutinize her looming presence in my office. I try not to stare at dots of moisture between her full breasts. I fight these feelings since I realize I must remain impartial. As I gaze at her flushed, appealing countenance, I try valiantly to persuade myself that there must be hidden beauty inside her as well. If only I can delve deeper into her problems to obtain more of an understanding of her psychological issues, then I may be able to delude myself that she can be helped. After all, I am just human myself; yearning intensely for her to be well and functioning so she can live a productive life. I desperately want this disturbed young woman to be one of my success stories.

Jasmine sometimes behaves in a provocative and seductive manner which is, at times, hard to resist. I must struggle against my attraction to her and strive to help her in any way possible. No matter how valiantly I duel against these feelings, I feel the pull of desire and the need to bask in her light. I tell myself that I am a learned psychiatrist who must put these lustful responses aside, although it would be tempting to succumb to the charms of my tantalizing patient.

I realize that she may have a neurological disorder that results from damage to her right posterior parietal cortex which manifests itself as unawareness of her body parts which may explain why she is insisting that part of her is missing. These patients maintain that specific parts of their body are missing from their awareness. But Jasmine seemed to feel that her body had been divided into two separate parts, believing that she would not be whole until she understood and rectified this phenomenon. She could possibly also suffer from nihilistic delusions persuading her that part of her body was missing. She certainly seemed to have a distortion of her body image. I knew that it was important that I understand the reason for her problems before I could begin to help her.

“Jasmine, I would like to ask your permission to contact your parents and set up an appointment with them to obtain some background information about you so I can determine the best course of treatment for you.” I advised her.

“Suit yourself,” Jasmine answered hopelessly as she strode out of my office, “although I don’t think they have any understanding of me, at all.”

As I continued treating this fascinating patient, I began to keep a journal in the event that I might want to write a book exploring her feelings of anguish and mental pain in the future. But I had no idea what I would encounter along the way. And I could never have had any conception of the hazardous and tortuous result of my journey. If I had realized what I would encounter in the pursuit of truth and understanding, I wonder if I would have continued with her treatment. I will never know. I was so completely captivated and enamored by her complex problems, that I could not deny the challenge. I completely ignored the cold chill of fear and trepidation coursing down my spine. I have to concede that I was very apprehensive but, at the same time, found myself invigorated. However, I had no idea of the depth of darkness hidden in her soul which would eventually become evident and destroy us both.

29
6
15
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We are a literary agency seeking fresh talent. In 200 words or more, demonstrate your writing talent. We will be in touch with any and all promising participants throughout the rest of this quarter.
Written by sandflea68 in portal Publishing
Chapter One - Half of Me is Missing
“I don’t belong here. I’m not like the others. We don’t look the same or act the same. I don’t understand their sense of humor. They are crude and I am refined. I am intelligent and their capabilities are mediocre. I don’t fit into this family. How did I get here? It isn’t fair! I don’t like these people. I don’t like where I live. I deserve much better. Please, doctor, explain my situation. I don’t deserve to suffer in a place where I should not be. I can’t understand it! Help me, help me! I can’t go on any longer. I would rather be dead than in these circumstances! Part of me is missing. I have known this all my life!”

Jasmine was pacing the floor in my inner office in Portland, Oregon, twisting her hands, agitatedly. I noticed that she seemed to have little control of her body or her thoughts. Her fevered rosy cheeks and full lush mouth intoxicated me against my will. Jasmine pushed her black, silky curls back from her beautiful, distraught face as she begged me for some explanation. Tears were coursing from her luminescent green eyes, leaving a transparent trail down her cheeks, as she sobbed in my office.

I am Dr. Engels and I desperately want to help my patient. However, I have no inkling as to why she feels this way or how to help her. This is the first time I have ever seen Jasmine cry which makes me wonder whether we have reached a breakthrough. The past few months, she has been sullen and uncommunicative although she finally admitted that she has no feeling or empathy for her family. I have no recourse but to adjust her medications and to seek answers from other psychiatrists. Before I discuss her hypothetical case with other doctors, I decide to ask Jasmine’s parents to come into the office to see if they can shed some light on her perplexing and bewildered thoughts. Jasmine is now twenty. I can see no hope for her until we can get to the bottom of these aberrations. I hate to admit to myself that she is so physically lovely that I can’t help feeling a stirring in my loins every time I scrutinize her looming presence in my office. I try not to stare at dots of moisture between her full breasts. I fight these feelings since I realize I must remain impartial. As I gaze at her flushed, appealing countenance, I try valiantly to persuade myself that there must be hidden beauty inside her as well. If only I can delve deeper into her problems to obtain more of an understanding of her psychological issues, then I may be able to delude myself that she can be helped. After all, I am just human myself; yearning intensely for her to be well and functioning so she can live a productive life. I desperately want this disturbed young woman to be one of my success stories.

Jasmine sometimes behaves in a provocative and seductive manner which is, at times, hard to resist. I must struggle against my attraction to her and strive to help her in any way possible. No matter how valiantly I duel against these feelings, I feel the pull of desire and the need to bask in her light. I tell myself that I am a learned psychiatrist who must put these lustful responses aside, although it would be tempting to succumb to the charms of my tantalizing patient.

I realize that she may have a neurological disorder that results from damage to her right posterior parietal cortex which manifests itself as unawareness of her body parts which may explain why she is insisting that part of her is missing. These patients maintain that specific parts of their body are missing from their awareness. But Jasmine seemed to feel that her body had been divided into two separate parts, believing that she would not be whole until she understood and rectified this phenomenon. She could possibly also suffer from nihilistic delusions persuading her that part of her body was missing. She certainly seemed to have a distortion of her body image. I knew that it was important that I understand the reason for her problems before I could begin to help her.

“Jasmine, I would like to ask your permission to contact your parents and set up an appointment with them to obtain some background information about you so I can determine the best course of treatment for you.” I advised her.

“Suit yourself,” Jasmine answered hopelessly as she strode out of my office, “although I don’t think they have any understanding of me, at all.”

As I continued treating this fascinating patient, I began to keep a journal in the event that I might want to write a book exploring her feelings of anguish and mental pain in the future. But I had no idea what I would encounter along the way. And I could never have had any conception of the hazardous and tortuous result of my journey. If I had realized what I would encounter in the pursuit of truth and understanding, I wonder if I would have continued with her treatment. I will never know. I was so completely captivated and enamored by her complex problems, that I could not deny the challenge. I completely ignored the cold chill of fear and trepidation coursing down my spine. I have to concede that I was very apprehensive but, at the same time, found myself invigorated. However, I had no idea of the depth of darkness hidden in her soul which would eventually become evident and destroy us both.

#challenge 
29
6
15
Juice
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