Kelly’s Unforgettable Story

Part Three

When Kelly woke up, she moaned and slowly opened her eyes, then quickly squeezed them shut again to block out the bright morning sun beaming through the large window. Her mouth was dry like cotton. She forced herself to get up and moved into the bathroom thankful she didn’t have a hangover. Once refreshed and dressed, Kelly walked into the kitchen and spotted the half-empty bottle on the table.

“Thanks for your help, buddy,” she smiled recalling her one-sided conversation with her reflection. She glanced at the mirror almost expecting to see her image still posed with a smug look on her face. She moved closer to the mirror and smiled. “I remember everything from last night and I meant what I said about letting Todd read it when it’s finished.”

Although she didn’t have a hangover, Kelly didn’t press her luck and settled for a small bowl of cereal. Thoughts of her actions and feelings over the past weeks infiltrated her mind and she shook her head, thinking how foolish she had been. Instead of hurrying to wash the dishes as soon a she finished the cereal, Kelly lingered at the table a while longer hoping some light would be shed on why she had acted as she had. The only thing that came to mind was that she had simply gotten over zealous with the story and somehow allowed it to take over her life.

  With coffee mug in hand, she went into the bedroom and picked up all her notes and pages, then set about sorting them out on the bed. Once organized, she sat at her desk and read the last pages she had written. Nothing new came to mind so she closed her eyes and concentrated on clearing away all thoughts to allow her creative juices to flow. It didn’t take long for her imagination to kick in and, before long, she had five pages completed and only had to write the ending.

The ending, however, proved to be more difficult to write than she had first thought and no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t get the words to flow. After several failed attempts and completely frustrated, Kelly put the pen down and stared at the blank sheet of paper.  Ten minutes later, she stood up, grabbed the mug and stepped into the kitchen to get more coffee.

Looking over her shoulder at the papers on the desk she said, “How could you do this to me? How could you let me get all the way to the end and then give me a brain fart? Aaaah! It’s not fair.”

Two painstaking hours passed and Kelly still didn’t have the ending she wanted to the story. Each time she thought she had it finished she would read it over and decide it wasn’t what she thought it would be. It wasn’t the ending the story called for. Somehow, she had lost the feeling for the story and decided to take a break and do some errands.

She stopped at a gas station, filled the tank and just as she was leaving, the phone rang. She quickly glanced at the screen and saw that it was from her friend Paula.

“Hi Paula!” she greeted cheerily.

“Hey kiddo, what are you up to? Haven’t heard from you in some time now?”

“I’m sorry Paula. I got so wrapped up in my writing I just lost track of time.”

“Another story? That’s fantastic! What’s it about?”

“Are you free for lunch?” Kelly asked, avoiding Paula’s question.

“Yeah, you want to come here or meet someplace?”

“How about Shirley’s Diner?”

“Sounds great,” Paula replied happily. “Meet you there in fifteen.”

“Great,” Kelly said and ended the call.

Twenty minutes later, Kelly entered Shirley’s Diner and spotted Paula in a booth on the right hand side toward the back of the restaurant.

“I ordered you a coffee,” Paula spoke up as soon as Kelly slid into the booth. “So tell me what the story’s about.”

“Hello to you too,” Kelly said as she raised the cup to her lips.

Paula laughed. “We said hello half an hour ago on the phone. Tell me about the story.”

Kelly set the cup down and looked straight into Paula’s eyes. “Okay. Before I do, let me tell you how the idea for the story came about and what has happened since then. You’re probably not going to believe it when I tell you; hell, I don’t believe it myself but it happened.”

Kelly proceeded to tell Paula the events that led up to her getting the idea for the story and then explained as best she could about the strange happenings afterwards and how she became so obsessed with the story that she couldn’t really eat or sleep restfully.

  
  

(Continued)

Chelle Munroe©

March 20, 2014

 

Kelly’s Unforgettable Story

Part Two

She plopped down into the swivel rocker near the window and glanced out at the dreary overcast sky; a perfect reflection of how she felt. There was no sense reprimanding herself for having been so careless as it wouldn’t serve any purpose to do so being the damage was already done. Her eyes drifted to the folder once again and the same question came to mind that had come over and over and over again since she had sat down to write the story two weeks before. (“Why had she been so compelled to write such a story and so driven to finish it so quickly?”) The same as with all the other times, she had no answer other than the speculation that maybe she had somehow become possessed; something she didn’t subscribe to at all, yet somehow felt just that way at times. Whatever the reason for her compulsion to write the story, it was imperative that she completely destroy it when it was done. Under no circumstances could she allow anyone to read it, especially Todd.

Kelly closed her eyes and thought of Todd. A steady stream of tears coursed down her cheeks. She lay back and wished with all her heart that she could go back in time to before the compulsion to write the story began. Pulling herself from the chair, she made her way to the bed and crawled into the center of it. She turned on her side, strangling the folder against her, and curled up into a fetal position.

The sound of the door opening and closing and the lock being turned caught her attention and she knew Todd wouldn’t be back that night. She cried long hard tears. As darkness crept into the room, her tears ceased and she took deep slow breaths to relax. It wasn’t long before another set of questions invaded her thoughts. (“Why didn’t she throw the story away once she realized the consequences that would befall the reader? Why was she so insanely driven to finish it even now?  Why wasn’t she strong enough to resist it?”). Of course, there were no answers or at least none that satisfied her.

Mulling it over in her mind, Kelly tried desperately to think of a solution to her dilemma. She bolted upright, the folder flying from her hands scattering pages and notes across the floor. Panic gripped her tightly until she felt as though she couldn’t breathe. Without a second glance at the papers strewn about the floor, Kelly jumped up from the bed and started pacing back and forth.

“Oh my God,” she cried out to the darkness. “What if it can’t be destroyed?”

The thought was so crippling it buckled her knees and she fell to the floor. She pulled herself to the bed and slowly stood up. Frightened as she had never been before, Kelly moved to the wall and flipped the switch, thankful for the light that instantly flooded the room. She then went into the other rooms and turned on all the lights. That done, she went to the kitchen cupboards to look for the small jar of coffee she kept there for times like this.

Behind a large mixing bowl, she discovered an unopened bottle of Hennessey. She didn’t normally drink alcohol but this was just what she needed to calm her nerves. She snatched the bottle, grabbed a cup, sat at the table and poured a healthy portion of liquor into the cup.

Halfway through the bottle, Kelly noticed her reflection in the hallway mirror and laughed loudly. Continuing to look at her reflection, she said, “Are you happy now I’ve gone insane?” She laughed again and took another mouthful of liquor.

“This is stupid. It’s a story Kelly. A damn story! It’s nothing but words on a paper. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

She stood up and unsteadily walked toward the mirror. Pointing her finger at her likeness she said, “You scared the wits out of me; you know that? You wrote the story and you would never hurt anyone, so there can’t be anything wrong with it. Are you paying attention to me? You better, because if you don’t you’re going to lose Todd forever and I’ll never forgive you. You hear me? I said I’ll never forgive you if you cause me to lose Todd.”

She emptied the glass and feeling wobbly, leaned against the opposite wall, then smiled. “Don’t look so smug. I’m the one who figured it out, not you. And for your information, it doesn’t matter why I felt obsessed to finish it because that just shows I have a deep passion when I have a good story to write.”

Feeling better, Kelly pushed herself from the wall and took a step toward the table. She half-turned to look into the mirror again. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot. I’m letting Todd read the story as soon as I finish it. How do you like those apples? I know I’m drunk but I’m still letting him read it.”

She made her way into the bedroom and flopped down on the bed. Moments later, she passed out and didn’t wake up until late the next morning.

   (continued)

    
Chelle Munroe©                                                                                                                                                                                                                                March 20, 2014

Kelly’s Unforgettable Story

Kelly’s eyes darted to the clock above the desk when she heard the key sliding into the lock and cursed herself for having lost track of time. She scrambled to get all her notes jammed into her folder before Todd, her fiancé walked into the room. She was just putting the last scrap of paper into the folder when Todd entered.

“What’s that?” Todd asked seeing Kelly’s expression and the way she was clutching the folder to her chest.

“Nothing really,” she said rather nonchalantly, hoping her casual manner would dismiss the subject then and there.

“It’s more than that. You’re working on another story aren’t you?” he said, his eyes shifting to the folder.

Kelly felt her fingers tighten on the folder and wished she had better control of her emotions. She cast him a slight smile. “Not really a story, just an idea for a story if I can sort it all out.”

“What’s it about?”

“I’m not really sure yet. Like I said it’s just an idea.”

“Have you written any of it yet?” he asked, his eyes still lingering on the folder.

She knew if she said no he wouldn’t believe her because of the way she had gripped the folder so tightly, a sure sign it was a work in progress. At the same time, however, she didn’t dare tell him it was near completion; not because she was ashamed of it, but because he would hound her to read it and that was one thing she couldn’t allow……ever.

“Yes, I’ve written a few pages but as I told you, it’s just rough ideas and nothing really coherent to base a story on yet.”

“Oh, okay,” he said and turned to walk into the kitchen.

Kelly breathed a sigh of relief.

Todd turned to her. When I get myself a sandwich I’ll come back and read what you’ve written and tell you what I think.”

“No!” she snapped too harshly before she could stop herself and knew deep inside that that was the biggest mistake she could have made.

Todd faced her and tilted his head to the side. “What’s going on Kelly? You’ve never stopped me from reading your material before. What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” she lied. “It’s just that…..well it’s just that I don’t want to jinx the story if, and I stress, “if”, there is a story there. Nor do I want any of my ideas influenced by something you might say.”

“It’s never bothered you before. In fact, some of the things I’ve suggested in the past opened up more ideas and made your stories a little better. You said so yourself.”

“Not this one,” she replied and got up from the desk.

Todd shook his head in disbelief of what he was hearing. “Are you having an affair and writing a journal or a story based upon your exploits? Is that why you don’t want me to see it?”

Kelly spun on her heels. “Oh don’t be so damn ridiculous. No, I am not having an affair and this is not anything like that. Why do people always jump to conclusions of cheating and secret rendezvous? It’s just a story about ----------”

He walked slowly towards her. “A story about what?”

“It’s just an idea. I told you that.”

“You admitted it was a story a minute ago.”

“It….it slipped out that way. I’m so used to saying story I wasn’t even aware I had said it.”

Todd studied her for a long moment. “All right Kelly, have it your way, but I want you to know that I’m aware that you’re lying to me. For whatever reason, I haven’t a clue, but I know you are not being truthful with me.” He turned and stormed out of the room.

Kelly’s eyes brimmed with tears knowing that what she had just done would surely put the trust in their relationship in jeopardy. The only thing she could hope for was that in time the wounds would heal and they would be happy forever. She glanced down at the folder still clutched in her fingers and let the tears flow.

It felt like her heart was being ripped apart. On the one hand if she didn’t let Todd read what she had written, he would be deeply hurt and possibly never forgive her or trust her again and their relationship would be destroyed. On the other hand, if she did let him read it, their relationship would definitely be destroyed forever. What to do?  

  

(continued)

Chelle Munroe© 

March 20, 2014

THE SEVEN SEAS ITCH

Pauly the pirate

Sailed the seven seas

Then somewhere got cursed

Soon after had fleas

They drove him crazy

All day and all night

He itched and he scratched

And cussed his weird plight

He climbed the tall mast

Where the strong winds blew

But the fleas hung on

With sticky flea glue

He went below decks

To rid the dark curse

The fleas grew stronger

His troubles got worse

When all his shipmates

Including top rank

Contracted the fleas

He walked the long plank

Fleas dashed to his head

Clung tightly to him

Then started to stroke

Cuz he couldn’t swim

The fleas multiplied

To thousands and more

Till they were enough

To pull him to shore

Though Pauly survived

And the spell did break

He gave up the sea

And stayed home to bake

For sorcery waits

On those seven seas

To inflict the worst

The curse of the fleas

                                                      

                                          Chelle Munroe©

                                                  March 14, 2014

A COLD JUDGMENT

  Personal Essay & Poem

 

 

In the 1960’s and 70’s, I observed a lot of men coming home from the Vietnam War and was dismayed by the treatment they had received from people on the street all the way up to the Capital in D.C. 

For the longest time, it bothered me but I never took any steps beyond joining peace demonstrations and marches and growing my hair long and protesting, protesting and protesting. After some time, I stopped participating because all that seemed to have happened was me getting harassed by local law enforcement while the war and treatment of the vets stayed the same.

As time marched on, and things changing in attitudes and policies, I forgot about the feelings I had had; that is, until recent years. With so many of our military personnel coming back injured, either physically, psychologically or both, I am reminded of the feeling I had buried. It is so sad to see so many young adults losing their lives, or losing parts of their bodies. For the most part, as far as I know, which may be miniscule, these men and women are receiving better medical treatment, getting better benefits and help and support from the American people; unlike what happened years ago.

It is this vision from the past that has lingered in the recesses of my mind and inspired me to write the following poem. Unfortunately, it is borne from actually having witnessed shameful actions by some individuals here at home.

 

 

He sits alone,

Away from the crowd,

Speculations

Run wild

As to why

 

He’s shy,

Reserved,

Anti-social,

Too good for anyone,

Looking for trouble

They snicker,

Sneer at him,

Make gestures,

And hurl

An insult or two

 

Yet no one

Extends an invitation,

Offers a warm smile,

Or takes a moment

To show compassion

 

Blinded by egos,

Arrogance,

And selfish ideals,

They are unable

To see the truth

 

Or his feeling

Of unworthiness,

His insecurity

To join them

 

Or his missing legs

Lost in war.

 

                                                Chelle Munroe©

                                                March 8, 2014

 

 

 

 

 

Winter – Why I Dislike It

A Personal Essay

With all of the snow and bad weather we have been having this past winter, I couldn’t help but reflect on some of the memories I have stored in my mind ranging from pleasant to not so pleasant; the latter being of late more than at childhood. One of those memories seems to be more present to me at the moment than the others and I thought I’d take a moment to share it with you.

It was from a time quite a number of years ago but I think one of the defining moments when I realized that snowy weather wasn’t as much fun as it had been when I was growing up. As a child, snowfalls meant a lot of things, from “no school”, “making money clearing walks etc”, to “just having fun doing the many things kids enjoyed doing in the snow”.

Everyone of my instincts told me it was going to be one of those days, but like so many other women, I chose to ignore the weather reports and set out to go for a walk and maybe stop at a couple stores to do some shopping. After walking for about an hour and a half, I sauntered into a moderately sized fashion boutique that carried the latest in women’s clothing.

Needless to say, I was like a firefly flitting from one section to the next. I got so engrossed in browsing through the racks of new styles; I hadn’t paid attention to the various announcements coming through the intercom. After all, I was too immersed in the hunt for a good deal, almost every woman’s intrinsic traits. Not only that, I was having a ball trying on the crazy color blouses and the different styles of jeans, not to forget the wide selection of skirts and dresses. My euphoria changed however, when one of the sales ladies approached and told me the store would be closing due to the blizzard conditions outside. My first reaction was: “Blizzard! What Blizzard? Now?”

I immediately snatched up my coat and jammed my arms into the sleeves, all the while hoping the snow wouldn’t begin until I was home. My hopes were short-lived when I reached the front of the store and saw the ground already covered in snow and the cars having a difficult time maneuvering through the street. The sales lady couldn’t have described the conditions any better.

As I stretched the knit hat over my head and ears, I chastised myself for not having worn the heavier coat with the hood. The conditions outside were terrible to say the least and it didn’t take long before the gusting wind began penetrating through my clothes. With reckless abandon, I scurried up the street as best I could and because I couldn’t see all that well, I rammed my foot into a brick, barely visible, sticking up in the sidewalk. I lost my footing and fell. It took a few tries before I managed to get back on my feet. The pain in my foot was killing me and it hurt even more when I put pressure on it. In addition to my injury, my clothes were soaked from where I had fallen in the wet snow and a fierce chill coursed its way up my spine causing me to shiver.

I rounded the corner and estimated I had about eight city blocks to traverse before reaching home and did everything to avoid another catastrophe. I was doing pretty good until my worst nightmare decided to occur. My bladder, in its rebellious nature, figured it had had enough of the cold and exerted tremendous pressure on my system to release. Almost instantaneously after I shifted my focus to control the pressure in my bladder, my foot joined the rebellion and ached even more.

I’m not certain as to what point it was, but I began to laugh as I envisioned myself trudging through the snow with a limp, sometimes dragging my injured foot like a hideous troll or ghoul, terrorizing the neighborhood. All I could picture was approaching some elderly person or child and they latching themselves to a nearby fence or rushing away from me screaming, “Help! Help! There’s a troll on the loose!”

Luckily, that didn’t happen. When I reached home, I stripped my outer clothes off as fast as I could, flung them on the floor and took care of nature’s call. I slowly removed my shoe, afraid I was going to see a large purple mangled mess. To my surprise, neither was present. Aside from the redness, I didn’t see anything major to be concerned about, that is, until I touched my big toe and observed that I had ripped the toenail almost down to the cuticle. I think because my stocking had been so tight, it had kept the torn nail from bleeding.

In what I refer to as a “miracle moment”, I recalled having read about an ancient remedy using the wort plant, specifically St. John’s Wort to prevent inflammation in wounds. I called it a “miracle moment” because I had never purchased any St. John’s Wort but remembered my mother having given me some, for a reason I couldn’t bring to mind. Whatever her reason for doing it, I knew it had been borne out of mother’s love that she had. I smiled thinking of how she would have fussed over me and then gave me a complete lecture on taking care of myself and protecting my toe from further mishap.

I truly dislike winter and but for the warmth I felt at that moment for the memory of my Mom’s love, I would have hated that wintry day all the more.

   Chelle Munroe©

   March 2, 2014