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Tales of . . .

~ Ramblings of my life and workings of my imagination

Tales of . . .

Tag Archives: Characters

Survival

22 Tuesday Oct 2019

Posted by merrywriter23 in #AmWriting, #IndieAuthor, Author, Books, Bullying, Choices, Decisions, Depression, Indie Author, Just for fun, Musings, New England, Romantic Suspense, Silence

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Blog, Books, Characters, Creative writing, critique, family, feelings, fun, genre, journal, Life, Novel, quotes, relationships, stories, Survival, Thoughts, Women, writing

Here in my car at the top of East Rock, I consider my options. In front of me on the dash sits a bottle of pills and a fifth of bourbon is on the passenger seat. I love my lime green Mustang and I don’t want it destroyed. Driving off the cliff is the least likely choice. I have enough pills and liquor to do damage, I’m just not sure I’d die even from the combination of the two.

I could take the pills with the booze and then slit my wrist with the switchblade in my hand. Still, would I die before anyone found me? Not that anyone is looking.

Perhaps the knife to my throat? Again, I think of my beautiful car. The note I left on the kitchen counter at my aunt’s house said to give it to my kid brother. He just learned to drive about a year ago. He’ll love the Mustang. Has always wanted it.

I pocket the knife and the prescription. I take the fifth and get out. Standing in front of the car, I gaze out over the lights. Cities look amazing at night. I’ve never been a morning person. The darkness hides your sins like a maxi skirt conceals unshaven legs.

I’ve been here before. In this deep hole of depression. It’s not my first ride to crazy. And I love East Rock. I’d visited this place on dates in college. Some ended happier than others.

Leaning against the hood, I open the bourbon and take a long drink. The burn soothes my pain for a moment. Taking a few pills in my palm, I down them with more liquor. Will my not being around change things? I’m sure my friends would be sad for a while. They’ll get over it and be better off.

Headlights flash behind me and I resist turning around. A car parks nearby. Two people yell at each other inside the vehicle. One female and one male, I assume. Ignoring the words, I take another swig of the bottle. The chemicals blur my senses. I wish I was still alone. Witnesses could intervene with my plans.

“I swear I wasn’t looking at that guy.”

“Then why was he staring at you?”

“How the hell should I know?”

I flinch at the sound of a car door slamming. Then a second bang urges me to look. I bite my lip and take a deep breath.

“You fucking bitch.”

“Jack, please. I love you. Don’t do this again.”

A scream pierces my ear. Thud. This time I turn. A young, petite woman is on the ground holding her face. The man stands over her with his fists clenched. His right hand comes down as he bends over and nails her again in the jaw.

“Hey, leave her alone.” Sometimes I speak before thinking. I drop the bottle.
When it smashes on the curb, the man straightens, turns, and slowly steps in my direction.

“Mind your own damn business, bitch.”

“Does it make you feel strong to beat someone half your size?”

“I said…”

By now, I’m in his face. A right hook connects with his cheek. I give him a knee in the groin. He crumbles.

“Lady, you’ve picked a real winner here.”

Jack moans some swear words. The woman gets to her feet.

“Thanks, but I don’t…”

“Don’t need help? Your lip is bleeding and Jack here is an ass for what he did.

If this isn’t the first time, and I doubt it is, you need me. Now, either get in my car and I take you to the hospital or stay here with Jackass and suffer the consequences.”

“Let me get my purse.”

She gets into my car and I back up. Jackass gets to his feet. I switch gears and peel out of there. My head is clear enough to drive for now. Any time my brain will realize I’m too drugged to get her to the hospital and get home.

“Who are you?” she asks.

“Your savior, apparently. Who is that guy?”

“My husband.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Two years tonight.”

“Let me guess. He was great while you were dating. Attentive and sweet.”

Her head turns to look at me.

“It’s a story I’ve heard before. I volunteer at the town shelter. I’m not sure if they have space, but you cannot go home. He will hit you again and again until you leave or die.”

“He’s a good man.”

“Good men don’t hit.”

“He has a problem.”

“And will you too, if you stay.”

A few minutes later, I pull into the emergency entrance. Her head is down.

“We’re here.”

She doesn’t respond. She must have blacked out. I run through the sliding glass doors when they open, holler for help, and the nearest nurse follows me outside.
Now I see the blood coming out of the side of her head. She must have hit the pavement.

“I’ll get a gurney and some help. Don’t move her.”

I wonder how to clean the blood from the leather seats. The nurse and another person come out. One asks her name.

“I don’t know. She was being attacked by her husband up at East Rock and I intervened. His name is Jack. I wouldn’t let him in, if he comes looking.”

I pull a card out of my jacket.

“Give her this and tell her to call me.”

The guy peeks at the card.

“Emlyn, that’s an unusual name.”

“Thanks. I should go. Tell her to call or get to a shelter. Otherwise, who knows how bad things will get.”

#

I have a two-bedroom townhouse. The stairs are just too long tonight. I crash on the sofa, wishing I still had the bourbon.

I awake with a jolt as slivers of sun appear through the vertical blinds. My head throbs. My fist hurts. I remember the woman and wonder if she’s still at the hospital.

It’s Sunday morning and I have laundry waiting to be done. No other tasks are on my to do list until tonight. Sunday evenings I stay at the shelter and help out. I decide a long hot shower and several cups of coffee are in order.

While the washer runs, I make an omelet with tomatoes, onions, and cheddar.
After breakfast, I head to the hospital. I know they won’t tell me anything over the phone. I’m not family.

In the ER, I talk to a nurse.

“I brought a woman in last night who was pretty banged up from her husband. I don’t know her name.” I describe the woman and the nurse asks around.

“They discharged her, but I can’t tell you anything else.”

“Hopefully she found a safe place to spend the night.”

I stop by the market for some groceries before going to the shelter. I park out back near the kitchen entrance. I punch the numbers into the keypad to open the door. As I bring the bags in, Leslie comes to help. Leslie is one of the two women who started the shelter.

“You’re early today.”

“I wanted to see if you had anyone new.”

“Yes, she showed me your card. Her name is Lori. Luckily, we had a room for her.”

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Two days…

22 Tuesday Oct 2019

Posted by merrywriter23 in #AmWriting, #IndieAuthor, Author, Choices, Daily Grind, Decisions, Depression, Family, Friends, Indie Author, Just for fun, Mental Health, Musings, Novel, Romantic Suspense, Sleep Disorder, Writing

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Blog, Blues, Books, Characters, Computer, Creative writing, family, feelings, friends, fun, genre, journal, Life, Novel, relationships, sad, stories, Thoughts, Women, writing

10//21/2019 4:45 am
Yikes, it’s early. Sally woke me up again. Well that and a perverted text from some unknown number.
I’m sitting here wanting to write but nothing is coming. Probably brain still half asleep.
Well I said I’d write every day… Maybe I will come back later and do more.
*twenty-four hours later…*
I never came back to this later LOL. I never even opened th computer last night when I got home. After being on the computer all day long at work, who wants to do it at home every night too.
My brother asked me over the weekend if I was writing. I’m sure he meant my stories, not this. It’s been a long time since I have written much more than a page of an idea. I think I need to read more to get back into the swing. My desire is gone.
I may post some of my beginnings of stories on the blog. Maybe if I get some responses it would help…

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An important message

01 Sunday Jul 2018

Posted by merrywriter23 in #AmWriting, #IndieAuthor, Author, Body Image, Bullying, Choices, Daily Grind, Dating, Decisions, Family, Friends, Health, Indie Author, Just for fun, Mental Health, Silence, Supportive, Teaching our children, Writing

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Characters, Creative writing, family, friends, fun, Health, Life, love, quotes, rebirth, relationships, stories, suicide, Survival, Thoughts, Women, writing

 

This is my daughter’s new (from yesterday) tattoo. A very important message.

For those of you who do not know, the semi-colon is a symbol for suicide awareness. The butterfly can be a symbol of rebirth. And the words speak for themselves.

The most crucial message to teach our children is love. Especially loving oneself. And in order to teach this, the parent must live it.

IMG_0211

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Inspiration

17 Sunday Jun 2018

Posted by merrywriter23 in #AmWriting, #IndieAuthor, Author, Books, Choices, Daily Grind, Decisions, Family, Friends, Indie Author, Just for fun, Novel, Romantic Suspense, Supportive, Teaching our children, vacation, Work, Writing

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Blog, Books, Characters, Creative writing, critique, friends, fun, genre, Life, Movies, Novel, quotes, reading, stories, Survival, Thoughts, Women, work, writing

People often ask writers how are they inspired. Life can be an inspiration. Some of my work comes from dreams. I suppose I have a vivid imagination. Last night I dreamt about a woman on vacation with her two small children. A couple approach and ask about her kids. Then she notices there is a baby doll in one car seat of their car and another older look child doll in another. She tries to get away but they take one of her children and pursue her to get the other.

I really dreamed this right down to her changing the diaper of the baby and her mother trying to help her get away from the bad guys.

Weird. I don’t know why or how I dream this stuff but it helps me with new ideas.

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Thoughts

28 Monday May 2018

Posted by merrywriter23 in #AmWriting, #IndieAuthor, Author, Books, Choices, Dating, Decisions, Indie Author, Just for fun, Novel, Romantic Suspense, Silence, Teaching our children, Writing

≈ 4 Comments

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angry, Books, Characters, Creative writing, critique, dreams, family, Fiction, friends, fun, genre, Life, music, Novel, Novels, quotes, Recovery, relationships, review, rock, sad, stories, Survival, Thoughts, Title, writing

Time cannot dissolve the pain

The scars stay fixed and fibrous

Remodeled bone creaks again

Fear shades the day, forever timeless

Nothing can heal those wounds

You’re broken, no longer whole

Evermore changing, reckless moods

An empty receptacle of a beaten soul

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Haven’s Destiny

28 Monday May 2018

Posted by merrywriter23 in #AmWriting, #IndieAuthor, Author, Books, Choices, Decisions, Depression, Indie Author, Just for fun, Mental Health, Novel, Romantic Suspense, Writing

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Art, Books, Characters, Creative writing, family, friends, fun, Life, Novel, relationships, sad, stories, Survival, Thoughts, Women, writing

Haven Conner took care of her sisters better than their mother ever did. When a social worker came to the apartment one night to forget his demons, he felt compelled to save the three girls from living with their whore mother.

Once Child Services took over the case, the girls were separated. The two youngest were lucky. They were adopted. Haven moved from foster home to group home to living from day to day on the streets of the city.

One summer morning while playing a game of basketball with his friends, Elias saw a young woman playing guitar under a tree in the park. Neither Elias nor Haven realized how that moment would be the beginning of a new road for both of them.

Haven’s Destiny is a romantic, rags to riches story that will tug at your emotions like no other. Haven discovers the most important hero in life is herself. If you like tales about heroes and survivors, Haven’s Destiny is a novel you won’t want to put down.

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Welcome

Tales of... is my blog mostly about my writing, self-publishing, and eBooks. I may post other items from time to time about the daily minutia of life and interesting topics. Enjoy the ride. Email me at mary-ellen@merrywriter-talesof.com

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© Tales of... 2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to MerryWriter23, Mary-ellen DeLeon, and Tales of... with appropriate and specific direction to the original content
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