I was sitting next to Elliot outside who was complaining about how old he felt.
“You’re only 7 years old. Imagine how I must feel!” I scolded him.
“You’re pretty much dead already, Dad. But I’m getting there too. I’m no better off,” he said looking down in the palm of his hands.
“Dead? Yo, don’t get your hopes up yet! I’m alive and kicking. You’re stuck with me for another couple of decades.”
So I got up and kicked the tree in front of me. I swung my head back at him and smiled, lost my balance and fell to the ground. Perhaps kicking a tree wasn’t such a good example. I heard Holly running out of the house and Elliot laughing hysterically at me.
I slowly managed to stand up but by then they were both laughing!
“I’m not going to forget this. You both are horrible!” I scolded them and sat back down.
“Hun, you have a piece of grass stuck to your face.” Holly brushed her hand against my cheek a few times as she continued to laugh. I could feel them staring at me.
I lost my balance, it wasn’t because I am getting older. But they like to believe it unfortunately.
“Oh, Dad, guess what?”
“The grass is green and you seriously need to start going to daycare.”
“Then, is it about the dirt I put in your pillow this morning?”
Elliot snapped his head towards me.
Then knocking the chair back, he fell and scrambled inside like a confused cat. I was trying so hard not to laugh. His arms flung every which way and he swayed back and forth to the door.
Holly knew but ran inside after him.
It is so good to have a clueless son. The young are so gullible.
It probably took a couple of minutes for him to come back dragging his feet.
“That wasn’t nice!”
“What? Did you really think I was serious?”
“Well, I think I forgot to tell you what I was talking about.”
“You have gray hair.”
“No I don’t.”
He hands me a mirror and points. “See! You’re old! You’re ancient. Your back goes out more than you do. Soon you will be able to hide your own Easter Eggs,” Elliot giggles.
This whole conversation didn’t end either. He just kept cracking wise jokes. I guess I gotta do something with him next time. Although we age, these things won’t get old.
Walking up to you wasn’t easy. Monitors stood by your bed with tubes plugged in leading to needles that saliently pierced your skin. I was facing you but I could not help but to watch the heart monitor. You laid there with your eyes closed. I didn’t want to wake you. I didn’t want to talk to you. In fact the starchy hospital atmosphere made me want to run far away from you.
You laughed in a hoarse voice, “Kid, I am not going to die.”
I didn’t see you opening your eyes. Did I have my thoughts stamped on my face?
“I know, you can’t die for another couple of decades Old Man.”
“You know, I didn’t tell you because I always remembered to take my medication.”
“Okay, right. You suddenly started forgetting about your medication out of the blue. You didn’t even warn me I could find you having a seizure!” I replied shaking my head.
I remember I was opening the door to leave. You don’t just forget to take your medication you’ve been on your whole life I thought. I didn’t understand how you could just forget or even forget to tell me that you have epilepsy. It just isn’t something you don’t mention to your son.
“I saw your mother a few days ago–”
I slammed the door shut in front of me. “Why do you even bother? I haven’t seen her in 10 years besides for once when she wanted money for drugs. Her eyes were bled shot. It is obvious she doesn’t–”
“She’s my wife! I said vows, ‘for better and for worse.’ Rick, I know you don’t understand. You don’t know what we have been through. What I have been through and most of all what she has been through. You don’t know.”
“That isn’t fair because you never talked about her. You never said a word.”
“Rick, I don’t stand on this high pedestal. And I am sorry; I guess not showing you my flaws was a flaw in itself.”
“It doesn’t matter. You aren’t on drugs like Mom.”
“I was a drug addict too though.”
“It doesn’t matter what you were. You aren’t now but she is. You have been here for my whole life while she ditched me– us, when I was 6 years old!”
“I got addicted to epilepsy pills. It didn’t stop there though. I did crack and heroin. I dragged your mother into my drug crusade. It’s my fault that–”
“It doesn’t matter. She could’ve stopped just like you did.”
“She did stop. We both did when we found out she was pregnant with you. We stayed clean too,” your voice started trailing off into a deep saturated whisper, “When you were two years old, we found out she was pregnant again with twins. We were driving to the hospital for a check up when we got into a car accident. She was only 7 months pregnant when she went into labor.”
You turned your head away from me as tears swept down your face. Your voice crackled as you reluctantly said, “The doctors couldn’t do anything for them.”
I could see your body trembling. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know what to say. It felt like you were telling me as if it happened an hour ago. You placed your hand over your heart and squeezed your shirt as if you were really squeezing your heart. You gasped for air, “It was my fault.”
“Dad, it wasn’t–”
Looking up at the ceiling, in an under-toned whisper you uttered I don’t think you ever wanted to say to me, “I caused the accident.”
I remember your voice; your pain seethed into my heart. Tears flowed down your cheeks against your will. The heart monitor beeped rapidly. The nurses rushed in and yelled at me to get out of the room. I glanced at you and mindlessly walked out and sat on the bench outside.
Two younger siblings I would’ve had. A mother I would’ve had. A father who didn’t live in guilt every day of his life I would’ve had. I would’ve had a perfect family, a perfect life. Perfect. Perfection.
I dug my hand into my pocket and popped a few more pills in my mouth. Everything would’ve been perfect. But here I was sitting outside of your hospital bed alone.
I know I have been MIA. But starting June 1st, Sunday, I will continue to my blog.
I will post the new schedule. After I will comment on Thor’s Rhapsody.
A chapter from the Mirror series will be posted this day. Rick takes a look back on his life and describes how his life led to where he is at now: live or let himself die.
I will choose from one of WordPress’s Daily Prompts and write a short story answering the question. The story might be a past prompt or the current one. Read the bottom of each post if you would like to know.
In Elliot’s Playground, the narrator tells stories about his mischievous child, Elliot. The series is humorous by the way…
Poem Wednesday. Often times poems will be exclusively on Tumblr. Some will be posted on here too though.
Social Media Day. I will be commenting on Quota, answering questions. I will be following, reading, liking, tweeting, reposting, etc. I will also start posting in my Shout Out page on here but feel free to include yourself!
This day is miscellaneous. I will post my cooking disaster stories, Flash fiction, WordPress prompts, etc.
NOTE: Usually I post late at night.
I decided that Thor’s Rhapsody is too good to just post. I will write it as a novel. I will keep the current chapters as is on here but it doesn’t mean they aren’t subjected to being edited or… even deleted :o. But seriously cannot wait… it’s just sooo thrilling and chilling!
Notice about Saturday I list flash fiction as a possible choice. If you don’t know what it is, here’s a short description: Flash Fiction is a short story with 500 words or less.
I will also finish the Haiku Story this month, before June 1st. Although it was meant to be posted in April, things got crazy so I never completed posting it.
I plan to write more but eventually I will have one for every month.
Add me on Facebook!
And of course follow me on Twitter. @JenkinsWritings
I am working on preparing Totally.Dot and Scoop.It. I will update about that later when I get them set up.
Also I am working on a new header. 🙂
Don’t be afraid to contact me with whatever. Stay tuned.
Da (heart's) breaking point "I can't keep proving my love" I can't keep hurting... Intimidating... I get mad then so do you, Arguing till sunrise. Smash the wall. Harder! Solves everything, right? Pound! "Argh!" "Can't take it anymore!" Listen! "No! You should! My fault I know, but you push" Starts from your mistakes! You can't see? My world... The depths of me, bleed and scream. "I know, so do I!" "I want to be free-- With you but you push, nagging" Sigh! You don't care, see... When you say that, I... Feel the same. I speak my mind. You yell when I do! Honestly, I'm done! Is there any point? Spiraling Inside hurricane... Whirling, thrusting us. Inside the eye of the storm Raining tears. Heart-break. Da (heart's) breaking point "I can't keep proving my love" I can't either, so. Like a gentle breeze, You suddenly kiss me, "Sh." "Quiet, babe. Okay?" No! That doesn't help! He kisses me again. What ... ! The dawn rises. Shines! Tender. Dulcet. Zest. You pull me in close. Kissing. Insatiable love. He's caring, loving, But like clouds on a sunny day I'm still having doubts Doubt is Hell's fiend, Questioning and analyzing Wandering distrust. "Trust me, please Baby." Beauty of dew form by trust; He stares through my soul. Not my "ideal" man.. But that's love and reasons to love, and spring sprouting Earth begins to sweat, Blossoming and living. But Hurricanes twirl... Twisters ravage spring Pulling new buds from the ground. Season's eerie love. Your tears... making me-- "I can't help but to cry though." --sad. Your river scares me.
Midnight, April 1st, it is time! I look over at Holly, she is fast asleep. Good. Rising out of bed, I stare at her. I slip out of the covers and place my feet into my slippers. Earlier I placed bells on both of the kid’s doorknobs to assure they do not plant any jokes too early.
The toughest thing about being tall is you have to accommodate yourself to the “normal-sized” people. Not today though. Using my super stealth mode (as if it exists), I tiptoe to the bathroom, close the door behind me, and turn on the light.
Creeping over to the bathroom counter and slightly bending my knees, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Holly practically lives in front of the mirror as she gets ready for work. She asked me when we moved in if I could hang the mirror low for her. Of course I agreed. I am such a sucker when Holly asks me to do anything. Just for today things change.
I grip firmly on to the edges of the mirror and jiggle the mirror off of its hook and place it on the ground. My insides are tickling. Then I replace the Command Strip further up on the wall. Standing back, I imagine the mirror hanging from it. Hmm. It’s only for a day, right? It’s fine. Holly will only see the tip of her head though. I place the mirror back on its hook. Oh my! I can see myself without bending down! Just knowing this, strangely relaxes me.
Can’t rest yet though. All the mirrors must hang high!
I jump out of bed. “What?”
What the hell is going on.
“James!” Holly piercingly screams again.
I lounge to the door. Wait. Oh! I am in trouble for that.
“Ha! Very funny. You know you are very lucky I don’t have work today,” Holly says as she walks in front of me and lays her hand on my cheek.
“I know but you screaming scared the hell out of me!”
She stares into my eyes and then we break out laughing.
“I took the day off to go to the store today and relax and bake a cake today.”
“Oh, I see,” I chuckle.
“Watch out today. You know, they got something planned for us. Be careful.”
I kiss her on the cheek, grab her hand, and walk in the bathroom, “You know, you are really short. So short, in fact, only the top of your head is in the mirror.”
She looks up at me, again staring into my eyes. She’s cute and she knows it. Then she smiles, “At least I don’t have to worry about a ceiling fan cutting off my head.”
She’s so cheeky. I can’t help but to laugh. Today is going to be fun.
Stay tuned for Elliot’s Playground: April Fools (Part 2) tomorrow, April 2, 2014.
Da (heart's) breaking point "I can't keep proving my love." I can't keep hurting...
Note: Every day in April, I will post a haiku poem on Tumblr. Each poem continues off of the last, making the series into a short story. Haiku poems are stories in themselves so this a story within a story. On WordPress I will recap every 10 days. This is the first “chapter.”
My son, I swear, I don’t even know where he gets these ideas. To top off his cruel joke with his sister earlier (argh! so embarrassing), he took advantage of a every day convenience into a great disadvantage for an old man like me!
Just a few decades ago, I remember as a child walking up to the television and manually changing the channel. Now, with the remote we can sit on the couch, change the channel and volume, record shows, and go on the internet and choose practically any movie just by using this item.
Anyways, after the kids went to bed, I finally got to sit down to watch my show.
I sunk into the couch. I squirmed neatly into the cushions and relaxed all my muscles. It was so refreshing. Comfortable. I again squirmed into the cushion and relaxed. Taking a deep breath, only my gasp for air rang the chilled silence. Wonderful.
Then I stared at the black T.V. screen.
I immediately became bitter. Where was the remote?
But it was okay at first, no big deal, right? I looked around the room hoping to spot the remote.
Argh! I didn’t see the remote the first time I looked around. Dreadful.
I started panicking, “remote appear!” I commanded.
That is when I spotted it. It laid on a paper plate face down, located on top the side table, which stood on the other side of the couch. I cried a little inside. I was comfortable. I didn’t want to move.
Argh! But my show…
Stricken by laziness, I stretched my body across the couch with as little movement from my original position as possible reaching for the remote.
It was too far! But no, I was determined to sit on my butt and get that remote! I reached even further, flopping my stomach on the couch as I twisted my face, like I was in true agony.
My finger tips are just millimeters away! frustrated, I groaned and made the final stretch for the remote!
“Urghhhhhh! Got– Ughhhhh!”
Bang! Tumble! Tumble.
The remote fell onto the other side of the table. I threw my head back in frustration, groaned, and sprinted to the remote’s destination.
I started picking up the paper plate. Initially, I thought that paper plate was oddly heavy. But then I flipped the plate over.
See, my son, Elliot, thinks it is hilarious to cause mischief. This is one of those moments.
The front of the remote was super glued to paper plate!
Remember, Elliot is only 7 years-old. He used an overabundance of glue.
I think his intention was to glue it enough to hold on to the plate but for me to actually be able to pull it off.
I know, I know. I should have never put the glue gun where he could reach it. It’s my fault. But who would have thought…?
My wife, Holly, told me if I wanted to watch television while she is asleep, I must sit in the living room.
After trying to peel off the plate and the glue for sometime, I gave up and resorted to the unthinkable. I walked up to my television to find the buttons to manually turn it on and change the channel. Since On-Demand came about, perhaps they actually made an On-Demand button as well!
At first I ran my hand on the sides of the flat-screen to find the buttons.
Of course, I could not find them. Argh! I turned on my light. My eyes burned and everything turned into static in a moments notice.
But hey, now at least I can possibly watch my show now.
I walked back to my television and squinted at every single side of it.
The only button on the television was on the button, and it only turned on and off the T.V.
Wonderful. Great. Just what I wanted to know. They don’t make a manual On-Demand button– or any other button besides the on and off button!
At the risk of losing my life, I resorted to the the very last option.
I was going to watch it in my bedroom as Holly slept.
As quietly as possible, I sat in bed next to her (who seemed sound asleep), turned on the T.V. and instantly muted it. For almost a minute I thought I was in the clear.
I stiffened. Holly turned her head, staring right into my eyes, and in the sweetest voice asked, “Can you turn off the T.V.?”
Then she widened her eyes! I hate she does it! She has the most beautiful green eyes. She take advantage of it, I swear! She knows my weakness.
I gave in and turned it off.
Without watching my show, I went to bed, in the most uncomfortable position too.
But I woke up in the morning and laughed… my son glued the super glued the remote to a paper plate. What the hell?
Every Tuesday a new Elliot’s Playground is posted. Don’t forget to follow, like, and… I can’t remember but if you know then do it! 🙂
Please note, this does not talk about the true aspects of my life. I don’t want to talk about everything that has happened to me.
Life is a tug-a-war game. On each side is an influence, the writer side of me stood on one end while the cynical, depressed me stood on the other. This journal showcases the event.
I am so mad! My younger brother gave away my favorite book to the school book affair. Now every book is boring. Why did it have to be that book? What is the point of reading? There isn’t a point. That was my favorite book…
At Age 10:
Wow! I did really well! I wish every essay could be like this where we have the freedom to write a story. At first I had no idea what to write but then I just imagined all the details about one of the days I had during summer and just wrote.
Note: I had the same English teacher at Age 10 and 12.
My teacher just told me that I should become a writer but I don’t think so. I am not creative enough to do that. It’s also a really competitive field, I don’t think I could hold up to the standards anyway.
At age 13:
Writing is a joke. Why do we have to take an English class? We speak and write English every day. We already know what a verb is and how to properly use them. Writing proper sentence structures should just come naturally to us. This class is dumb.
I hate this English teacher. She’s so snotty. The moment I spoke to her, I knew she hated me. Just because I can’t speak well (I have a strong accent), doesn’t mean she should discriminate against my writing and intelligence. Well, at least I learned how to utilize power verbs.
I love reading classics. I checked out “Edgar Allen Poe Stories” and “The Great Expectations” by Charles Dickinson from the library awhile ago. They definitely manifest some kind of magic over words and the English language. Oh, “The Grapes of Wrath” by John Steinbeck, a book I had to read for my US history class, also took my breath away! The Other day, I encountered an interesting novel, except I plan on reading it for the summer, called, “One Hundred Years of Solitude” by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I only read a couple of pages before I had to leave the library but it looks really good. (It was actually assigned as summer reading for the following year ironically)
I hate writing. I hate books. I hate school. Are we actually learning anything sitting here for 6 hours a day as we to talk to our peers? Seriously, this is a waste of time. I could actually learn something by not sitting in here. School is just one big play pen to confine children and teenagers away for as long as possible because we are just nuisances to the adult world and society.
They call it school, a place of education. In reality, everyone just socialize and thinks learning is one big joke. We are cattle. We roam around like drugged cattle, and walk up and down staircases in herds. We yield to anyone who influences on our well-being. It’s a slaughterhouse! You don’t want to be here then fail school, fail life, fail, fail, fail, fail! Just fail if you don’t want to be apart of the herd. If you don’t find it enjoyable to sit in class listening to your peers screaming across the room, then FAIL! If you don’t want to conform and be slaughtered into mindless beings, then FAIL!
Between Age 17 and now:
No thoughts. No expression. No ideas. No words. Besides for an overwhelming sadness.
I was in a really dark place for a really long time.
My best friend told me, “Well, while I am busy, you have to keep busy. Find something to do.”
I was paranoid. No matter what I did, it couldn’t hold my attention for long. My friend didn’t understand until recently. And through this understanding, I woke up and decided I should write again. I have this nagging fiction story as long as a novel lingering in my brain for the past few years. At first, I thought I would write it but I haven’t actually written a story in years! My lack of experience wasn’t the only thing holding me back because there was another problem: Who the hell would pick up and read my novel?
That is when I decided I will open a blog and gain writing experience and potential readers for my novel. But it is much more than just that. I knew that through writing, I would probably retake an interest in reading again by reading other people’s posts, which in turn would inspire me to continue writing, and thus this circle would captivate me into keeping busy.
Since I am busy writing, reading, and figuring out social media function thingies, I am less paranoid now. The best thing I have found on the internet since I started writing is a small magazine called The Corner Club Press. I don’t know, there’s just something about it that makes me feel energized, or perhaps it’s because the coffee theme layout.
Nonetheless, here I am writing. The writer side of me won the tug-a-war event. Thus, this one act began a circus.
Writing Challenge: Writerly Reflections
In this challenge, tell us how you fell in love with books and writing.