Chaos Central Command

The Concert

It’s that time again! Time to gather around the table and share some juicy tidbits of fiction with the folks of Friday Fictioneers, hosted by the lovely and talented Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. You can find other small tales of wonder, and danger at: rochellewisoff.com. Come on out and join us! This week’s photo is loaned to us by : Ted Strutz.

WC: 109, sorry.

I tried to cut the word count as much as I could, but still went over. This is a real story, non-fiction, from the early 90’s when I was dating my now husband. A night to remember!

The Concert

It was my first, and only, concert. A birthday gift from boyfriend, now husband. Being short, just shy of five foot, front row, crushed by people. Garth Brooks came out, I cried because I couldn’t see anyone on stage. A security guard I knew from working a different venue saw me, pulled me out of the crush and lifted me to the edge of the stage where there were a few bales of straw for show. I got the best seat in the house that night. It was a dream come true, especially when Mr. Brooks came over to sing just a few feet away. I’ll never forget it!

Authors’ note: A much better week, health wise. Am finally able to eat a meal. Waiting until July for answers is wearing on me, but there’s naught to do about it but pray and leave it in God’s hands. In the meantime, I’m working on a dance shawl to match my dress, have two portrait commissions to complete.

Battlement

PHOTO PROMPT © Amanda Forestwood

It’s that time again! Time to gather around the table and share some juicy tidbits of fiction with the folks of Friday Fictioneers, hosted by the lovely and talented Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. You can find other small tales of wonder, and danger at: rochellewisoff.com. Come on out and join us! This week’s photo is loaned to us by : Amanda Forestwood.

wc:81

Battlement

I stand on the old battlements

moss now covers where blood once ran

bird calls replace the agonized screams

tall, strong trees now stand

where once young boys and men fell

the old battlefield calls to be remembered

the souls forever trapped here

reach out to the living

their cries muffled by fallen leaves

warning us not to follow in their path

but to move upward and above

to live life in peace.

I stand on the battlement today

and listen…

B.McQuinn

Author’s Note: I’ve been mighty sick these past few weeks. In and out of hospital fighting a bacterial infection that began as a result of discovering a severe food allergy. Another discovery is a bit more unsettling. I go back to doc in July to be tested for female Cancers. I’ve reached the calm acceptance of what could be, my affairs are in order (or as about as orderly as I can afford to do). I’m resting alot, spending that time in deep prayers for the people in my life, including all who read my little stories, poems, and enjoy my art. I do ask that you keep myself and hubby in your prayers as these weeks of waiting are sure to get to stretch us.

My unsteady threads…and life…

This year’s Steady Thread SAL started on January 1, 2o23. There were a couple of hexagon shape and square shape design formats to choose from. I chose the round one surrounded by leaves. I added in a couple of bumblebees and the year. So, this is how it looked the first week of the SAL.

It is now week 18, and I’m about 4 weeks behind in the challenge. That’s okay. Life got in the way of stitching. As it is, this has become my Sabbath/Day of Rest activity. It’s relaxing and enjoyable. I’m finding I can only do about 2 hexagons at a sit both for time and because my eyes (even with glasses on) become too blurry and start to water horribly. Ahhh, the after effects of the covid vaccine and boosters.

The photo doesn’t do justice to the actual thread colors though. The hexagons are outlined in a very dark green as is the greenery within. The flowers are in a deep orange-red thread. The last hexie at the bottom is still in progress. My eyes just wouldn’t let me see it anymore. It’s already raining this morning, so perhaps I’ll have an hour to sit and sew before venturing into the kitchen to see what to prepare for dinner this evening. I’m thinking something to throw into the crock pot.

Other sewing… hasn’t happened recently.

Knit/Crochet… I’ve made about 10 prayer shawls for the VA over the winter, and a few baby blankets, too. I’ve knit several hats both for myself and for the NICU. I’ve also finished 1 of 2 historical era 1700’s over the knee stockings. I took the photo a bit before I finished of the toe. About 1/4 of the way through the second stocking, now.

In addition, I designed and put together a new dance regalia… just in case I’m able to get out to a powwow. So far, I’ve not gotten out to one that hasn’t been cancelled by weather. sigh…

and I wove a belt to go with it…

I’m still working on a shawl in orange with bears and what not to go with. It will be a backup shawl to the one that a native “Auntie” made for me that’s brown with a large starburst on it.

So, my winter has been packed with life and filling endless indoor hours of boredom. Hubby has changed jobs a few times which has meant a routine of pack everything … unpack everything… repeat. Plus a rental increase that caused to nearly lose our roof, saved by job change with a little more pay and we’re finding much less stress.

Command Post Alpha- pt 2

It’s that time again! Time to gather around the table and share some juicy tidbits of fiction with the folks of Friday Fictioneers, hosted by the lovely and talented Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. You can find other small tales of wonder, and danger at: rochellewisoff.com. Come on out and join us! This week’s photo is loaned to us by : Brenda Cox.

If you missed part one, you can find it here... https://mcqarts.com/2023/04/19/command-post-alpha/

Part 2

Journey log

Date: 31 PA. Not only have I seen the figures moving through the shadows, but I’ve heard them, too. Their voices carried on the wind, barely discernable.They’re real, I heard them clearly. My suspicions grow. D I dare to tell the others?

Date: 32 PA. Today, I stayed in the city alone. As I sit here, all is quiet. I have yet to see anything in the shadows, or to hear any sound beyond the frogs and crickets. Maybe I truly was just imagining… Maybe… But, I still can’t shake the feelings. I am not alone here- I’m sure of it.

Author’s Note: So far, I’ve got about 5 parts written… has nothing to do with this week’s picture, though. I hope you enjoy it. It is a chilly morning here in the foothills of the Appalachians. Brrr… Starting just above freezing and will supposedly top out at around 60-65 today. Looking forward to the first Living History event of the year locally this weekend. Packing an umbrella and looking for a pair of galoshes… LOL!

Command Post Alpha…

Journey Log.

Date: 27 PA. We found the city. Empty, as expected. Pristine, as if it’s inhabitants had just walked away. There is a haunting quality to the place that I just can’t shake. A sense of… well, of not being alone here. I’m sure it’s just a figment of my imagination. Still, there is a quality of preservation here that suggests that it has been kept up by someone. We’ve set up our camp on the outskirts and are making our observations and reports as per command’s request.

Date: 30 PA. We’re definitely not alone. I saw them… figures moving through the streets…

Author’s note: I’ll be back later to read everyone’s writes! Busy day today.

Boxed…

wc: 100 exact. not sure that it has much to do with the pic though.

Boxed

I reached out to touch the rail… rusted. As rusted as the old boxcar that sat upon them. A shiver rippled up my spine.

‘So many rails…’ I thought aloud, tears brimming and ready to fall. My head sank to my chest. ‘It was another time… another place… But it wasn’t, was it?’

If I squinted, I could just make out the transport hub at the edge of the city. This time of day it would be packed with tourists, all coming to see this museum…

This rail car…

would they even remember the lives that had passed through it…

Author’s note: Been away for a while as I could not remember my password or find where I’d packed my book with it written down in. Any Hubby has new job and all is as well as it could be. Have a great week, y’all!

Headlight intentions

‘The road ahead is paved with good intentions…’ The talk radio station blared.

wc: 93 +title

Headlight Intentions

‘All the good intentions in the world aren’t worth a hill o’ beans if you don’t follow up with actions.’ I snarked. The new year looming before me, I was a deer caught in headlights. Was I really stepping onto the road of intentions yet to be realized as reality?

So many intentions, so little time to carry them out… I rested my hand on the small box in my pocket. No bigger than a deck of cards… and yet…

Author’s Note: A hail and hearty week! It’s been quite an accomplished week. I’ve completed a pointilism picture of a red dress… THE red dress from “White Christmas” movie with Bing Crosby… THAT dress! Oh, it’s divine! I had the wonderful opportunity back before Christmas to visit a local museum, Behringer-Crawford Museum in Covington, KY, USA, to see their exhibit on the movie along with about 18 or so other Urban Sketchers. It was awesome! I finally got around to finding time to actually art up the dress.

I’ve also been working on new regalia for this year. I finished the one I started this past fall, last night. Just a simple ribbon shirt/skirt combo. Now, onto making the yellow/orange ensemble to match the shawl a friend made for me. Then, I was sooooo lucky to find good quality wedding satin (white) and royal blue material on sale this week as such a discount (50% off per yard, and register took an additional 20% off = 70% off) that I just couldn’t resist it. Can’t wait to get started.

We’re starting the new year with employment (for hubby), a full pantry of food, a roof over our heads, annnnd we were able to get new shoes and a pack of socks each. We are soooo blessed!

Detritus

I

t’s that time again! Time to gather around the table and share some juicy tidbits of fiction with the folks of Friday Fictioneers, hosted by the lovely and talented Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. You can find other small tales of wonder, and danger at: rochellewisoff.com. Come on out and join us! This week’s photo is loaned to us by : Roger Bultot

Wc: 52

Detritus

They say this is where they found me, the detritus of humanity piled around me.

I don’t remember.

They said I was barely alive.

I don’t remember.

They said I was attacked by an unknown assailant.

I don’t remember.

Today, I came, hoping to jog my memory.

and still…

I don’t remember.

Author’s note: I listened to a podcast that discussed the aftereffects of Traumatic Brain Injury this week. (Where was this kind of discussion 27 years ago when I needed it so bad???) It was very poignant, and in it I saw a bit of myself… well, more than a little bit. And it left me feeling so very grateful for all the people in my life who have supported my recovery, and stood by me through the years. You fellow authors are among the top on my list! Your words of support, and patience while I relearned words, and how to write them, was huge. So, THANK YOU!

The above story reflects a bit of what it is like not to have memories. It is difficult and it’s something people who haven’t experienced it truly cannot fully grasp. And, if you’re a friend of one who has no memory… do me a huge favor… don’t push the issue. It won’t do any good, and only cause undo stress for the person. Okay, putting my little soap box away.

Happy 2023, Hope y’all have a really great year ahead!

Senility

wc:90

Senility

‘Oh, Papaw, look…” Little Rose pointed to the steel lines in the street. “They’re still there, just like you said.”

Papaw looked at the old steel trolley lines embedded in the asphalt, his eyes misting. His mind taking him back a half a century to a day he would never forget. He sniffled and squeezed Rose’s hand. “It’s so we never forget, my little Rose… so we never forget.’ His voice choked on the last word.

‘When you forget, Papaw, I will remember for you.’ Rose smiled up at him.

Author’s Note: Remember to treasure everyday that you have… it could be your last. Or, in the case of my Mominlaw, it could be the last that you can remember. She’s been diagnosed with Senile Dementia a few years ago, and it’s been getting much worse. Prayers that when they come down this Friday that they even know who we are. Last Christmas, they didn’t.

It’s been hectic these last couple of months. In November, I did Nano, stopped counting at 65K. Set aside writing to return to my Blackwork SAL (sew-a-long), and managed (no idea how?) to accomplish 28 weeks of sewing in a mere three weeks, finishing it on Christmas Day! YEAH!

My dear Hubby has been declared blind… and believe it or not, that’s a good thing. Now, he’s getting some help with special equipment to enable him to work much easier… at least as far as reading the fine print on things. We still have a couple of evals to go through to qualify for a white cane, and/or a balance cane. He’s received his “reader” from the library for the blind and we are awaiting the first audio books to arrive. He chose his first book: “The Brave New World” by Aldus Huxley. This should be interesting to watch his reaction. hehe. No hospitals in recent weeks which has been a godsend and answer to soooo many prayers.

Happy New Year to EVERYONE! Hope is filled with more blessings than you can count in your lifetime!

A Lie is a Lie

wc: 98

Note: This is the opening paragraph for Nano this year. Leaves open so many directions, dontcha think?

Iosa hated being in a position where she felt she had to lie, even if it were only a little white lie. A lie was a lie. What bothered her was having to tell that lie to the one person whom she felt truly cared about her. What choice did she have? None, if she were honest with herself. No, if the truth ever saw the light of day, it would be her last. That reality was a certainty. And, she’d been seriously attempting to avoid that outcome.

She looked up, and saw that truth standing before her…

Author’s note: I was unable to get to the event last week as I wanted to. Hubby’s needs outweighed. So, I’m taking the time to rip out the shirt and redo it the correct way. I promise to do a post about it when I’m finished with it.

Meanwhile, there’s a lot of terminal waiting, then jumping and doing as Hubby moves through the process of Vocational Rehab and Blind Services evaluations. This has been needed for decades. It’s finally happening. Just pray that all comes out well and we can get the services that he needs.