Moxie Monday: Find Out Why
Kick start your week with a lil' moxie!
For me, today is one of those days...
Happy Birthday to me!
Fiction Friday: [Five Little Words]
It was there when I arrived home early from work. A letter. No envelope. Just a single, tri-folded sheet tucked into our door jamb. Five words. Typed.
You’re dating a serial killer.
A deep tingling of unease crawled along my skin, making its way over a rocky landscape formed by tensed muscles. Despite the empty hallway, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. The keys jangled loudly in my quivering hand as I aimed for the keyhole.
Once inside, I fell against the door, clutching the letter to my chest and crumpling it in my clammy hand. It took a while, but I forced myself to slow my breathing. To ease the deafening thump in my chest.
Memories with Thomas flooded my mind. Laughing on our first date as we walked along the Hudson River. Realizing my true feelings for him as we danced during our first New Year’s Eve together. How at the stroke of midnight, he told me he loved me before I could say a word. And how just the other day, I cried tears of joy when I found a ring-sized velvet box in his underwear drawer.
Thomas was the kindest person I’d ever met. Flaws and all, he loved me more than I knew anyone ever could. I saw it every time he looked at me. There was no room in his heart for even the tiniest hint of malice. And that was the truest truth I knew.
He would be home soon. A decision had to be made. And it wasn’t a difficult one. I tore the letter again and again until it rained down into the trash like confetti.
The letter was gone, but I knew it wouldn’t be the end of it. There would be more. Unless, of course, I found the person attempting to destroy our relationship.
It shouldn’t be too hard. Leaving it in the door was a sloppy move. A wiser tattletale would have ensured that Thomas got the letter directly. But, lucky for me they didn’t.
Moxie Monday: Weigh Your Options
Kick start your week with a lil' moxie!
Fiction Friday: [Galloway House Pt. 7]
Welcome to Part 7 of Galloway House. If you have missed any of the previous installments, you can find them here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6. And as always, thanks for reading!]
By the time Joseph Strunk began his ascent up the hill, he had worked himself up into a near panic. Convinced that his heart thumped harder and louder with each step he took, he worried it would burst from his chest before he made it to Galloway House.
Lightning continued to soundlessly flash across the sky, but thunder had taken its leave. The silence oozed ear-cloggingly thick and unnerved him more than the darkness. Almost more than the mission itself.
The lantern swung gently from his tight, sweat-slicked grip, sending shadows dancing long and eerie all around him. His other hand cradled the package tucked securely under his arm.
Up ahead, lights flickered from front windows, highlighting the intricate details of the lace curtains. Filled with anxiety, the beauty of it all was lost on him. Beauty was not on the list of reasons that candles filled the room.
Reaching the front door, Joseph was certain the knocking in his chest was louder than the sound of his knuckles against the wood. Light cracked at the edges and grew in the darkness as the door eased open. And despite a centuries-long feud between the families, a Strunk was once again face to face with a Galloway.
Moxie Monday: Shoot For The Moon
Kick start your week with a lil' moxie!
Fiction Friday: [The Porcelain Predicament]
[I came across this article in the New York Times about how they're rolling out 'One-Sentence Stories' on Apple watches. Full disclosure: I didn't read the entire article. In fact, I barely got through the first few sentences. One, I'm not an Apple person. And two , I quickly lost interest when I couldn't tell the difference between these 'One-Sentence Stories' and their regular headlines. "So what's your point?" the readers asked. Well it's this: the actual headline made me think about containing an entire story in one sentence. This isn't a new concept. Plus, I've been a fan of Smith Magazine's Six-Word Memoirs for a while now. I suppose this was all a long winded way to explain why today's Fiction Friday is way shorter than this lead up! Enjoy!]
The weight of the divorce didn't truly hit me until I reached over and discovered the empty toilet paper roll.
Moxie Monday: Do It Now
Kick start your week with a lil' moxie!
Fiction Friday: [Hearts Ablaze in Charm City]
Stockpiles of pain
Sit heavily on tear-stained chests.
Hearts smoldering for a lifetime
Under the banner of:
Less Than.
Fires are burning, but
far beyond, far deeper than
the images splashed
across television screens.
The stockpiles fanned
again and again,
finally sparked, ignited
In the hearts of
The oppressed.
‘Legitimate’ news sources
taken to task
by Twitter.
Citizen journalism broadcasting
truths that don't boost ratings.
Ensuring that the world:
Sees.
Hears.
Understands.
And with each heart sparked
to action, to empathy,
another Less Than banner
Burns.
I felt that it was important for me to share the birth of this poem. The other day I watched an interview between Wolf Blitzer and activist Deray McKesson. And although I pride myself on taking most broadcast news with a grain of salt, this particular interview really got to me for the following reasons: I have lived in Baltimore. I have friends and family in Baltimore. I'm a black woman. And I'm a human being. To blatantly attempt to goad someone into creating the sound bite that you want is not journalism. Trying to coerce someone to condemn the legitimate feelings of the oppressed is not journalism. Those family and friends I told you about? They were posting images and sending tweets about what the majority were doing. Coming together in crowds of hundreds, sometimes thousands to figure out how to bring the peace. How to talk to the children and make this a teachable moment. But, not only was I not seeing this on the news, here was Wolf only wanting to perpetuate the 'If it bleeds it leads' work ethic of the news industry. Angrier than I'd been in a long time, I created and posted the following graphic on Instagram along with the caption that follows it:
Above is what happened after I watched #WolfBlitzer's interview with #DerayMcKesson.
I lived in #Baltimore for 9 months while working on The Wire and what I learned about the people there was that they love their city. They're proud of their city. I shouldn't have to go to social media to get the whole story and to recognize the strong people I remember so well. Especially when people are getting pretty hefty paychecks under the guise of being fair and impartial.
I am in no way condoning the violence or saying that it shouldn't be reported. What I am saying is that if you only tell 1/4 of a story it becomes a tale of fiction based on a partial truth. This systematic grooming of people's minds to believe that people of color, especially poor people of color, are all violent thugs is a problem on the national level. And it's a problem that will never get resolved until we are shown the whole picture. The good and the bad.
To Baltimore...you are more than the picture they are painting. #StayStrong #Rebuild #TeachAndGrow
