Story a Day


http://storyaday.org/day-27-start-at-the-end/?ck_subscriber_id=211865176

The Prompt

Start a story that begins with the ending, then immediately jumps back in time.

With tears in his eyes, he was led away by his nephew. His bucket list had been complete and now he can tell the Lord he is ready to come home.

It all started sixty-seven years ago. A baby on the way. His marriage still a newlywed in his eyes, he received the notice. Six o’clock in the morning; he kissed his wife goodbye. He boarded the old, green bus and headed to the base head quarters.

He did everything his best. He scrubbed potatoes, floors and shined his shoes. He crawled under wires, got muddy, did morning drills. He lost weight, he learned to look but not love the enemy.

He killed, he protected, he wrote letters every night. He shared his love for his wife and child with his mates. He learned of the death of his parents and grandmother.

He fought hard, he fought well. He won. He was awarded letters and colored ribbons. He earned pins.

He was old inside when it finally ended. He was less a leg and carried emotional wounds that couldn’t be blended with the  new life he lived. He needed care; too much care. He lost his wife. He lost his child. He lived alone.

He wheeled himself to the nearest corner and watched the people walk by. He shook hands with the little children who stared at him. He passed out tiny flags for those who would take them.

He ate alone. He bathed rarely. The radio became his friend. His spirit had partially died. Days turned to nights. Minutes turned to  hours. He gave up.

Room 320 was his new home. Four walls,  painted mint green, baron walls, a free, black and white television. Friendly faces of people in white visited daily. A man in cloth spoke from the Bible.

A young gentleman with a heart on his shoulder stopped by to visit one day. One day turned into  daily and the two became the best of friends. Dreams and hopes spilled over.  A soda in a bottle was delivered. Special candies arrived with bright colors.

He was an old man on the outside. He knew his time was short. One afternoon in May, it was a holiday. The friend stopped by early. He changed my clothes. He put on my socks and slippers. He wrapped a shawl around my shoulders. He signed me out.

I saw the bright sunshine. I saw the green leaves on the trees. I saw mothers walking babies in a carriage. I saw the white, picket fence. I saw the people lined up; one after the other.

He helped me out. He transferred me into my wheelchair. He pushed me to the center of the crowd. I touched it. I felt warmth re-enter my soul. I felt memories flood back. My heart felt as if it was going to stop. My breathing slowed. I felt a hand on my shoulder.

” I wanted to help you complete your bucket list buddy.” He smiled. I returned the smile as my hand lay rested on the

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Story a Day


http://storyaday.org/day-26-the-sale/?ck_subscriber_id=211865176

The Prompt

One character is trying to sell something to another character. .

 

Eddie was a geek and most kids didn’t like him because he was different from them. In grade school, he got called on by the teacher more. Kids were jealous, I think. In the middle school, Eddie only had a couple of close friends, who were also geeky.smart-school-boy-light-bulb-27300632

By the time high school came around, Eddie had it all planned out. He knew what college he was going to plan to attend. He had prepared educationally so that he could receive scholarships to help him out.

He got a part-time job at McDonalds, so his parents wouldn’t have to help him out too much with spending money.h-mcdonalds-Double-Quarter-Pounder-with-Cheese-Extra-Value-Meals

He got a long a little better during this part of his life. He was working beside adults who seemed to respect him; but there were still those kids who liked to pick on him. He tried to ignore him; but it was hard.

Sometimes he would return to his car after work and there would be standing a couple of co-employees. They teased him about not having a girlfriend and having no dates. They started drilling him on what he needed to do if he wanted to get some.

This went on for weeks and then one Friday evening,  he got off later than usual. It was Fall and the weather was chilly with leaves falling.

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Eddie was tired. He drug his feet a little as he made his way to his car. He couldn’t wait to get home and get to bed. He didn’t see the two when he was nearing the car but as he opened the door; the two jumped up beside him.

“Hey, we got the perfect way for you to get a girl. You will be so glad we thought this up for you.”

“Hey guys, I’m not interested. I just want to go home.” Eddie started to sit down in the front driver’s seat, when the two yanked him back out. Before Eddie could do anything, the one guy stuck a needle into his arm.images (2)

“No need to thank us buddy.  It was our pleasure.” The two boys laughed out loud and ran off.

Eddie got in his car and left for home. The road started weaving and he felt dizzy; but he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to be home; close to his parents in case he needed help. He looked down at the speedometer. He was speeding way too fast; but he couldn’t lift his foot from the accelerator.

The tree was coming fast but yet seemed so far away. The front of the car slammed into the tree. Eddie’s head leaned into the steering wheel causing the horn to continually blow.

 

Eddie died at the scene. The autopsy said, drug overdose. 

His parents were shocked. They didn’t have any idea their child, who was so smart, would ever get into the drug scene.

The two boys who forced their idea on Eddie were fed Karma the rest of their natural lives.

Daily Post/ One Word Prompt


https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/doppelganger/

The word for today; Doppelganger

an apparition or double of a living person.
“he has a doppelgänger named Donald, his invented twin brother”

 

“It’s going to be alright Susan. I won’t let anything happen to you.” These were the words the little girl heard as she hid in the back of the closet; rubbing her legs and bottom.

Susan was being abused physically by her older brother. She didn’t know why he did this. All she knew was it hurt real bad. If she tried to fight what he was wanting to do to her; she got hit by a belt on her legs. This was why she was rubbing her legs.

Her imaginary twin placed her arms around Susan. She stroked her hair and rubbed her back. She gave Susan her favorite stuffed animal; her cat and the two petted it together.01917ae3f3d42cbbdce537e0c1036369

Brother did terrible things to her. He smacked her bottom. He put his fingers in a place that made her cry from pain. He placed the fear of God in her by telling her, that if she ever told mom and dad; he would hurt her even worse.

Her twin saw her tears and wiped them away, promising to find a way for all of this to stop.a_little_girl_is_crying____by_fm19-d2zqi5e

It was the last time that it happened. Brother was getting ready to hit her on the legs when suddenly a gun was pulled out and brother fell to the floor. Susan couldn’t move, but with the help of her twin; the two ran to her bedroom.

A bag was waiting for her to be picked up. Putting it in her hand, she ran out of her room and out the back door. She never went back.

It was 13 years later that the words appeared on the front headlines of the newspaper. Woman is released from a local institution. 

After many trying months and years of trying to get this woman to speak; it never happened. The case had been tried. There was never a a pronounced verdict of guilty. The jury’s statement was; There just isn’t any proof.

Susan eventually went back to the old house where she grew up. Her parents were both deceased. The house stood empty. She turned the door handle and it opened. She walked to the closet where she hid many times. It was empty. There wasn’t a trace of anyone or anything ever having been there.closet-426386__340

Daily Prompt/ One Word Prompt


https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/guilty/

The word for today is; guilty

 

“You’re guilty!” the crowd screamed as they stood in a circle, hovering over the old man, who lay in a fetal position on the ground. Chanting and name calling could be heard in the heavens.

The old man had been drug through the muddy streets. The goal was to drag him to the outskirts of town, taunt him, then hang him.

It was the year, 1953 in the state of Alabama. A negro worked on a family’s farm. He tended to the animals; feeding and cleaning the stalls. He worked the garden. His name was Mike.

He loved children and when he saw them playing out of the house, he hid behind the bushes and watched them running and skipping; his smile widening. Mike had his own family. Two boys and a girl.  His wife was expecting their fourth any day.

Mike was a good, God-fearing man. He was from a poor family and was poor raising his own family. He had run into a lot of snags in his life but had always made a way.

The months passed and it was winter. A harsh and brittle cold seemed to be in the forecast. The newest baby had been born. It wasn’t an easy time this year at Christmas. His wife’s milk wasn’t any good, and real milk was hard to come by.

The baby cried often and Mike just knew in his heart; his child was hungry. He felt such a pang in his heart. He felt helpless. He loved his kids so much. His wife looked at him in ways he had not seen prior.

It was Christmas day and he made his way to the back, swinging door. Each year he would make the same trip to the main house. On the steps he would find a basket with a cloth over it. Inside were baked goods that the Mrs. had made special for him and his family.

He leaned over and picked up the basket. On standing back up, he heard laughter. He peeked through the windows and saw the children playing with their toys. On the table sat the bowls of cereal and a box of cereal. Right beside the cereal was a pitcher of milk.

Someone must have called the children’s names because they all scampered from the table. Without thinking, he sneaked in quietly and took the pitcher of milk. Picking up his basket, he took the two items home.

His wife didn’t say a word. She heated the milk and the baby quieted from a full belly. Someone had seen what had happen. He told some others and before an hour had went by; he was being drug down the muddy street.

What do you, my readers, think should happen next?

 

carlaw-and-queen

Story a Day


http://storyaday.org/day-21-news-flash/

 

Day 21 – News Flash

The Prompt

Write A Story As A News Report

 

I was going to write about the latest school shooting; but I already blogged about it on my other blog, Terry1954@wordpress.com

 

I am standing at the corner of Center and Main. Hi, My name is Terry Shepherd and I am reporting on the biggest day ever in our lives about the return of Jesus Christ.  The clouds had been lingering all morning, but in the last two hours sunshine has brightened our mood and opened all eyes, no matter where you stand.

Commotion has been swirling as a mighty tornado in this small, ancient city of Jerusalem. People have been lining up on the streets here for days. The news has been broadcasting the latest trend that, Jesus is coming back at 1pm today.

We have about fifteen minutes before 1 and the noise has started to settle. Cameras are going off, children are hopping on the backs of moms and dads. Everyone is standing, shading their eyes, looking to the skies.

Five more minutes. I look around the crowds and try to see the end; but there is no end in sight. I have never been a witness to this kind of event, but I can tell you that even I have goose bumps.

News has jumped softly on this topic for so many years but no one really knows if, wait, wait, listen everyone. Look, up there! In the sky! Is it? Could it be? Oh my God, oh my God. People know we are witnessing for the very first time. Yes, there he is.

Everyone is getting down on bended knees. I can hear prayers being said. I’m sorry folks, I am going to lay my mic down. This is a moment that only each of us can take in, in our own way. Just keep watching the camera.

 

 

Daily Prompt/ One Word Prompt


https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/forest/

The word for today is; forest

 

Melody was infamous for being in the center of everything. She crawled to the top by means she thought she would never lower herself to. She shined at the office. She had more friends than she could count on all fingers and toes. Her phone rang inviting her to this social event or meeting. She thought she was certainly a Goddess.

 

God had been watching this for so long. He gave her hints and signals to change her thinking, to slow down, to give him the thanks for allowing her this prestigious life; but she ignored him. He knew her time was at a close and he had to get her attention before he allowed the devil to have his way with her.

 

One day she  had an overwhelming time at work. Nothing seemed to fall in place. Meetings didn’t go the way she planned. On her way home, her mind was running through the minutes. A deer ran out from nowhere and because her mind was somewhere else; she was not prepared for what happened next.

 

She woke up to strange sounds. Eyes were looking at her as if asking why she was invading their land. She ran her fingers through her hair and felt an instant ping of pain. She looked at her hand and there was red on it. She unfastened her seat belt and with great difficulty, twisted and turned her body until she was on the outside of the car.

 

She fell to the ground, her body weak from the accident. She landed in a tall, feathery mound of grass. Her eyes closed. She slept.

 

When she awoke, animals sat around her. Sadness mirrored back at her from their eyes. Silence fell heavy around her. Her heart ached. She couldn’t go back. She had failed herself. She failed everyone around her.  Why did she do what she had done? What was the point? Was she really so stupid? What counted? What mattered?

 

As if the animals could read her mind, they scampered away and brought back, one by one, all the people involved in her life. She stared at each one as they sat filing a circle around her.

 

“I don’t know why I thought the way I was living and making decisions was the right way. I don’t know what got hold of me. I wonder if I can ever change the situations so that I feel good about myself. The truth is; I haven’t loved myself for so many years.”

 

She wept and one by one, each person came up to her. They hugged her and told her they would help her. She looked up into the skies and for the first time; she understood.

 

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Ever Wonder Who I Am Looks Like?


Here I am. I am the writer and photographer behind this blog. I live in Warsaw, Indiana. I have three grown children and I think, 11 grandchildren. I was a caregiver and traveled throughout Indiana for many years and then became a private caregiver for elderly and Hospice patients.

Now I have Parkinsonism/Dystonia/Ataxia. I live in a retired community building and spend my time painting, or being the photographer for the social events here. Yesterday, I was nominated for Secretary for the next year. In April I will learn whether I was voted in or not. I really don’t mind if I lose or win; I was thought of.

I am pretty quiet, but at times I can be a real chatterbox. I love to take my scooter or car and go to the lake and take photos. I love campfires, seeing the smiles on my family’s faces and making memories.

I am an Advocate for a rare illness called; Multiple System Atrophy. I have a Facebook page called Multiple System Atrophy through a caregiver’s eyes, where families, patients and caregivers can view postings that hopefully bring a smile. You may chat with me about questions you have about this rare illness.

https://www.facebook.com/MSAfeelingstressed/

I have published two books and am writing a third. The first book is called Dahlia. It is an uplifting story about never giving up. The second book is a general based book on Multiple System Atrophy. These two books can be purchased through Amazon or Kindle. The third book I am writing is in no holding back the truth about Multiple System Atrophy. Many readers let me know they wanted to know more. I had held back because it is such a horrifying disease; but in this third book, I will be spilling my guts. I think the name of it will be, A Hell of a Disease. We shall see if that sticks.Al_his_life_and_MSA_Cover_for_Kindle

Well, that about does it. If you have questions about who I am, talk to me.

terry

Bring Back What Was Once Mine


The sun goes down. Music is turned from the streets and now plays in your head. Dancing fireflies, wickedly spinning from cell to cell, creating new ideas that could possibly change your mindset.

You feel no pain but the ache in your heart becomes active and the smile you knew through the shining sun; now disappears, entering questions of darkness that no one seems to understand or see the answers.

You remember the exact spot where the big, brown dusty box with the rusty lid rest. You go to it and you stare at it as if you are trying to burn holes in the skin so you don’t actually touch what is inside.

Seeing nothing happening, you touch the brass handle and with two delicate hands, you pry open the lid. You raise it and listen to the squeak of the aged hinges. Being able to lift it no higher, it stands proud, inviting you to revisit what was once alive.

You scan as if you are taking an x-ray until you see the off-white, stained material. You pick it up and gently place it in your hands. You nuzzle it and press it close to your bosom. You walk over to the rickety, wood rocker and sit down.

The rocker moves to the music you are humming.  The words dance happily in your head and you skip back in time remembering what once was yours. The hour passed and it was almost too dark to see to return back to the reality of today. She gently lay her friend back in the spot she had retrieved it. She quietly lowered the lid and made her way back to the chair by the window.

That’s My Dream My Dear Wife


You see that mountain over there? That’s my dream. That’s where I put my faith on every night as I lay my head down on my pillow and pray.  Every morning I wake up and look down at my body. Nope, nothing’s changed. I still can’t move.

I look at my legs and they feel frozen in the bed. Sort of like being cemented to a bed post. A tear drips from my eye as I try to move my fingers; but they won’t. My nose itches, but no one knows it.

I look up and I see your smiling face enter my room. I see the glistening in your eyes, but you won’t admit you have been crying. You gently wash my face and hair. You turn me over and wash both sides. You do all this with the gentleness of love. I love you so much my wife. I so wish I could tell you. I will not complain with groans or moans. Will this help you see how much you mean to me?

You shave me the best you know how. You sprinkle talc on me and try to erase the smell of this illness. You leave my room and I see you once again wipe a tear from your eye. You enter with my breakfast. I don’t recognize my favorite food, eggs and bacon. You have a cup with you and I can see it is brown, but I don’t see the steam rising. I know you have pureed all my food and added a thickner to my coffee.

You turn the television on for noise in the background as the silence is thick and our thoughts mesh into one; but neither of us want to admit we both know I am dying. I see the effort you make into each day. Going about the business of what I used to help you do. Paying bills, getting groceries, babysitting the grandchildren. Above all; you don’t forget me. You always check to make sure I am dry and want for nothing.

When you make sure I am going to be fine for the night, I hear the bed springs as you collapse into bed at night. This is when I turn to my mountains. I pray for a cure. I pray for my release so that it may release you, my love. I appreciate all that you do; but you should not suffer from my lingering onto a nothingness.

I love you, my dear wife. You are the best.

 

 

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Daily Prompt/One Word Prompt


https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/courage/

The word today is; Courage

cour·age
noun
  1. the ability to do something that frightens one.
    “she called on all her courage to face the ordeal”
    • strength in the face of pain or grief.

     

The hardest thing I think people have trouble doing is; being yourself.doll 4

 

 

We are born as innocent babes

Fear is not part of our name

Words tossed to and fro

Can stunt our thoughts or help us grow.

Written by,

Terry Shepherd

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As we grow, we begin to look at ourselves. We question if we are what we heard.  Are we like the other little girls or boys in school. Are we chubby. Are we not as smart as our siblings.

These feelings, I believe, fester like an open sore. They never begin to heal, instead they ooze with pus and grows slowly with us until we reach adulthood.  We make sure our body, hair and total image is what others would love to see. We question ourselves.

In time, perhaps not until middle age, we get tired of not enjoying the purpose God placed us here on earth for. We slowly crack the armor and let it fall. Our soul begins to shine. Our shoulders become less burdened. We smile. We begin to relax and let the person we truly are out; for everyone to see.

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