Annual Post of February 19, 1999

February 19, 1999

I don't know all the names he was called,
but I can imagine:
son
brother
uncle
friend.

What I know about his death is from
what I've read
what I've seen on tv.
Things
I won't
write
here.

So today, the anniversary of when
he died. I say a
prayer for him,
and his friends
and his family,
and for those who killed him.

And I pray for a better world
full of love
for all of us.

heidi
written 2/19/13 in memory of Billy Jack Gaither

And Because Now I Am Missing My Meme and Grandma...

Meme

the last time I saw you
  you were
    in a bed,
    tucked in.
you looked so small.
i brought you my baby girl.
you didn't recognize me,
but you liked seeing my daughter.
you stuck your finger from out of the cover
and
    held it out to her. She smiled and
  grabbed it and you smiled back.

a few months later, your body was in a box.
my heart was breaking and the preacher...
  was a dipshit.
i wanted to yell "Shut up! You don't know
what in the fuck you are talking about!"
then my sweet girl loudly crapped her diaper.
the women in the pew behind us giggled.
it was perfect. and i knew that you were laughing.

heidi

originally written 8/9/11



Goodbye

I never said goodbye

I didn't see the necessity

I long for just one more hug

One more smile

one more chance to be your sweet girl

I miss you more than I knew

I could miss anybody

and I wish you could have been here to meet my babies

Goodbye Grandma, I love you.

-heidi

i think this was originally written 8/2000

For Robin Williams, A Repost of Last Love Letter

Last Love Letter

My cousin was a year older.

He was the second grandchild.

He was the younger brother

I was the first granddaughter.

My cousin lived three hours away.

I saw him and his brother

only some weekends. Two or three a year.

He was a sweet, quiet baby.

When I was six, I wrote him love letters

on scrap paper.

When I was ten, he taught my brother

how to turn his eyelids inside out

that made me run screaming.

We played baseball with socks wrapped in electrical tape.

I privately competed against him.

He was a funny, reserved, young man.

He once wanted to be a store Santa

because young women liked to sit

in Santa's lap for a picture.

When I was twenty-six, he died.

and I forgot everything but the pain.

and a vigilante hummingbird.

I forgot his smile.

I forgot his laugh.

I forgot his wit.

I forgot his love for his nephew.

I forgot.

I would have traded anything to have

him back.

To hug him the last time I saw him.

To Tell Him I Loved Him.

And I cried

cried

cried

cried

cried

Tonight I found some pictures.

And I remembered:

How he was sweet

How he loved his nephew

How he was funny

His desire to be Santa

My notes

Baseball

The woods

Football

Hawaiian Punch

Hot Chocolate

Puddings

Hide and Seek

His eyelids

His smile

Him.

and i cried.

heidi

originally written:3/13/97

Personal Ad for The Doctor (repost)

Wanted: Traveling Companion.
Must be witty, intelligent, brave,
and accepting of diverse cultures.
Ability to think quickly in tricky situations a plus.
Must be able to flee for life if necessary,
and withhold the necessity of blinking on command.
Looking for a long-term commitment, as I
am tired of goodbyes.
I am particularly fond of sassy women
and tin dogs.

Interested parties should send inquiry to
The Doctor
c/o the Blue Police Box outside your door.

heidi

written 4/19/13 for

listen to ‘Personal Ad for The Doctor’ on Audioboo

I thought I would repost this today and add an audio recording in celebration of The Doctor's birthday.

Blue (repost)

Blue
Indigo
Azure

A primary color
the pigment in your eyes

The state of my soul

...now that you're gone.

listen to ‘Blue’ on Audioboo

heidi
Submitted: 11/18/13 to minlovemisery for her color prompt today. I think this is one of my most favorite things that I've written, like, ever.  It was originally written for NaPoWriMo in April. I haven't changed any of the wording, but, if you want, you can click Blue to see the original post.

Some Sign of Life

Dorothy and Nora had been driving the deserted countryside lost for hours. They had made a lovely picnic on the shore, but had missed a turn somewhere on the way home. They had ridden in silence for the last half hour when Dorothy spoke. 

 "I really have to use the john." 

“Do you want me to pull over so that you can go by the road? We haven’t seen anyone else for a while.”

“I can’t do it in the woods beside the road!”

That was when Dorothy finally saw some sign of human life. There were tire tracks off the side of the road. The tracks lead up a hill and on top of the hill, she saw a house.

"Nora, turn right here."

Nora turned the car and they were jostled by the bumpy hill.

"Slow down Nora!"

"I thought you liked bumpy rides," Nora said, but she downshifted anyway and eased the car over the hills and the holes of the yard up to the house.

Dorothy looked at the dark house and  hoped for someone friendly and some sort of facilities.  Almost before Nora had stopped the car Dorothy had jumped out and hurried to the door. She looked around as she went to see if she could get a glimpse of an outhouse.

"You can stop dancing, I'm sure they will let you in." Nora joined Dorothy at the door and was adjusting her hat. Dorothy knocked on the door and it opened a bit. She stuck her head inside and choked on the smell of decay. It reminded her of the summer she had lived above the butcher’s shop.

"Hello?" Nora called out from behind her. She pushed the door open further and then wrapped her arm around Dorothy and guided her in. 

"Is anyone here? We're lost and my friend here needs to use your powder room."

There were no lights on inside the house, only the dim light that streamed in from the windows.  Nora crinkled her nose.

"It smells like a barrel of rotten apples in here."

Dorothy knew that smell was not rotten apples. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Past Nora, she saw the old woman staring at them from the corner.

"Nora..." Dorothy nodded her head towards the old woman. Nora looked over and saw her.

"Oh, I am sorry. I have forgotten my manners, but you see, we have been driving a long time and we are lost and tired. My name is Nora, and this is my friend Dorothy. I hope you don't mind, but the door was open..."

The old woman just stared at them. Her chin was almost touching her chest and she was looking up at them. She clutched a dirty rag doll to her breast and her mouth was moving slightly like she was muttering, but there was no noise.

"Nora, let's just go." 

Dorothy no longer had to go to the bathroom, and if the urge came back she would gladly pee on the side of the road in front of God and everybody, but she suddenly needed to leave this house.

"Are you ill?" Nora let go of Dorothy and started to walk towards the old woman. "Do you need some help?"

"Nora, I think she's okay like she is, please, I think we need to just leave."

Nora reached out and touched the old woman's hand, "Can I..."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!" The old woman leaned up and screamed in Nora's face. Nora stumbled back and her body twisted as she fell on a small table breaking it. The old woman and ran out of the room laughing a high, shrieking laughter.

Dorothy ran over to Nora and tried to help her up. "Oh Nora, are you okay? Please let's go now."

"Okay, I ...oh! Ouch!" Nora could not stand up. Glistening, dark blood ran through her torn stocking and down her leg. Dorothy removed her scarf and wiped at the blood. There was a long scrape down Nora's leg with a large splinter of wood embedded in her calf.

"Nora, you're hurt and I can't stay here. I'm going to wrap this up and help you to the car and then we are leaving. When we are away from here, I will stop and get that wood out, but we are leaving first." As she talked, Dorothy wrapped the wound with her scarf. Nora winced as she tied it tight. A door opened near them.

A soft, frail light fell into the room. There was the old woman again, watching, holding a candle. Behind her there was a wet smooshing sound and a muffled moaning.

"This crazy old bird is going to kill us," Dorothy muttered as she locked her gaze with the old woman. Then the old woman stepped to the side, and Dorothy saw what was on the floor next to the door.  Her brain could not make sense of what she saw. It was man-shaped, but it was a mushy, bloody, undulating mess. The darkness of the house seemed to swirl behind him. There were what looked like pockets of meat on the floor next to him, attached by slimy stands.

"Oh, those as his insides. What happened to his skin? How..." Dorothy peed. She never noticed. She cried and never noticed. Nora yelled at her, and she never noticed. She just saw him as he began to make sense. She stood there staring at this man as a long, bloody limb reached out to her. It was his hand. A blood bubble formed where his mouth should be and then died.

At the sound of laughter, Dorothy looked over at the old woman. She was looking down at the mess that had once been a man, shaking the doll at him, and laughing. The laughter turned to screaming and then laughing again. The swirling darkness seemed to move from him to her. It whirled around her hand holding the doll. It crept up her arm. Screaming now, she shook her arm and tried to move. The darkness wrapped around her greedily.  Dorothy saw her hold the doll close to her and then the old woman was turned inside out, like a stocking. It sounded like someone slurping the last bits of an egg cream from a glass. 

She felt a sharp pain and her head rocked to the side.

"Get out of here!" Nora was standing on one leg yelling in her face. Dorothy wrapped her arm around Nora's side and started to move towards the door. She felt a chill around her ankles and she tried to run. The feeling was sticky like taffy and cold like ice. It pulsed up her body and she was suddenly face to face with Nora. They were bound tightly together by the sticky cold. They no longer looked like two separate people.

A sound echoed through the house, a wet, slurping sound. It did sound very much like the remnants of an egg cream resisting the suction of the straw. The slurping was wet and somewhat drowned out by the sounds of two women in pain. Then there was one soft, moist thump. It was a sound similar to dropping raw ground beef, reserved for this evening's supper, on the hard, cold floor.  Finally, there was a muffled whimper and a muffled sob, then silence.


There were no signs of human life.

heidi

completed 11/15/13

listen to ‘Some Sign of Life (part one)’ on Audioboo

listen to ‘Signs of Life (part two)’ on Audioboo

listen to ‘Some Sign of Life (part three)’ on Audioboo

I have an earlier version of this story called Bubbles Popping in response to a prompt by The Mag. This story is a re-telling of the story The Dark from the radio drama, Lights Out. If you would like to listen to the original, you can find a streaming source by clicking this link Lights Out: The Dark (This link will take you to the Old Time Radio Internet Archive. The episode I am using is #19 on the play list.) 

I updated the story because that first post was mostly a rough draft and because I wanted to post it to the subreddit Dark Tales. Click on Reddit Dark Tales to view the story and read other dark offerings. 

dVerse OLN: Repost of Groceries

Groceries
  (the ride home)

Alright sweet boy,
let's get you in your seat.
No, in your seat.
Sit down,
Sit down,
Sit down.
There's a good boy.
I know, I know, Mommy's being mean.
Okay sweetie, your brother's in.
Let's get you in the truck.
Here, help me lift you out of the cart.
Now stand, okay, put your foot there-
no there, there! sweetie.
upsydaisy!
Now whose heinie is this in my face?
Let's get you in the truck. Watch your head!
Oh! I'm sorry sweetheart, are you okay? I'll kiss it.
There's a girl.
Okay , who wants juice boxes? Yay juice boxes!
Here you go sweetie. Here you go sweetheart.
Okay- the buggy is corralled.
Damn it's hot.
Let's start this up and turn on the AC.
Phew! That's better.
Y'all ready to go home and eat some lunch?
Oh Shit!
Did I turn off the tea?
Is the stove on?
Oh shit the stove's on!
Damn red light.
What if it's boiled down?
How long were we in the store?
Crap! TWO HOURS!
crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap
Comeoncomeoncomeon.
What if the house caught fire?
What if I have burned down the neighborhood?
I just bought all those Courage cartoons on iTunes!
Shit! the computer! Shit! The Dog!
Please dont' be on fire.
Aw come on! Another light?!
Please don't be on fire.
Sweetie, who taught you the diarrhea song?
My house is on fire and my little girl is singing about runny bowels.
When you're sliding into first and you feel a juicy burst...
Okay-good-i don't see any smoke.
Here's the neighborhood...still standing.
Here's our house.
No fire in sight.
Stay here kids, Mommy will be right back.
No smoke in the house, but the stove is on.
Now it's off, (big sigh).
Oh damn, I bet that tea is ruined.

heidi
written 8/28/11
submitted dVerse OLN 3/13/13

listen to ‘Groceries’ on Audioboo

I was really excited about Claudia's post introducing the OLN, and I was just going to read and comment and not post. The pieces I have written lately have been in response to specific prompts and I didn't have any ideas for something to write for it. Then I started looking at older posts here and decided to repost this piece. It was one of the first pieces written for this blog, and I think it's funny. It hasn't really been read, though, and I thought I would use this opportunity to reintroduce it. (I was actually torn between this and Thank You.) It also has a second part, Groceries II. I think that this is pretty representational of my poetry, especially the more comedic things.