Narrative Therapy

Composed 10/13/16
Description: In a nutshell. For today’s Daily Prompt: Clumsy. Mixing in some of my social work student knowledge today.

If you tally every time you trip
Apologize to passerby
For every tipped glass and
Every concrete stumble
With a
Sorry, I’m clumsy
You’re telling a story

You think but
It may not be
Statistical reality
But how you’ve created
You

It’s as simple and
As complicated
As paying attention to your grace
And stressing your strengths
To tell a different story
As they say
It’s in the details –
The ones you write in –
To change your perspective
And be a hero or a villain

Warrior

Composed 4/11/16
Description: For Day 11 of NaPoWriMo. A fun little story based on true events. An all too-common occurrence, I’m afraid.

The room has been swept of clutter
Clothes hung and tucked away in drawers
The others have vanished into their room for slumber
And I recline on the bare carpet
Reveling in minimalism and peace
The reward of a good housekeeper

The cookie-color ceiling holds a surprise
There
A black dot
But bigger than a dot
Yes the menace hovers above desk and bed
Waiting for his unsuspecting prey
But not today

A deep breath
Boot in hand
I stand on precarious desk and chair
I swat
It falls
I run for the hills
But it has fallen
Dead
Onto the desk

I sweep it up
And listen to the sound of the flush
The reward of a fine warrior

Fire Eater

red_2_by_tosha_chan-d9iow63
Red 2 by Tosha-chan.

 

Composed 1/1/16
Description: Prompt from writeworld. Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a critique about this picture.

His fingers spread like growing vines
And touched her skin so pale and sweet
He felt the blood pump through her veins
Gentle thuds in steady beats

From each seam, each pore heat wafted off
An aura of delectability
It swam up each thin, arching stem
A fire forming internally

It crawled up his arms
Hung in his chest
A strangely lovely burning wheeze
He breathed hot smoke
His insides glowed
Shade hung from a grin, sharp and pleased

She fell limp and her skin felt cold
Silence within her too-still form
The spines retreated as a breath was taken
And the red hot man went strolling home

Origin Story

Composed 12/22/15
Description: My dream last night.

A skinny tree
His branches stick out like a mushroom hairdo
He stands in line
Orders a coffee
Vanilla latte with my vanilla beans
He shakes his hair and they rain down
Falling seeds
The kiosk owner hesitates
Shakes her head in ignorance
But I pop up with some how-to knowledge
And a potion book

It takes an hour or so
To gather needed supplies
I explore the lush green valleys
And with pestle and pot
The tree’s latte arrives

Unknown, am I
Until that moment
Impressed, my fellow magic folk

Word spreads throughout the inn
My prestige grows as
Power is gained
As discover, I, my place here
A wild white wolf
Is suddenly tamed

A friend, a familiar
Bonds with me
Witch, potion maker

Grade School Romance

Composed 12/16/15
Description: For the Daily Prompt today, which asked us to tell our funniest relationship disaster story. Had to reach back a long way for a funny one.

He was the first
And she was a wee little thing
So she said yes
And chased him round the playground

Yet he was more a stroke of ego
Than a snatcher of the heart

One day the middleman
Asked of all his friend’s fine qualities
Where there five, ten
Fifty?
She said there were so many
But failed to write a list

She doesn’t much remember
Anything after that

Your Story

Composed 7/23/14
Description: n/a

10:00
I sit thinking about
6:00
The people behind the counter
The boy who brings us burgers
no pickles, no onions
and taco salad
chicken, extra jalapeños
and a traditional smile
and a
I saw you yesterday
At the store
Didn’t say hello

The boy who blends into wallpaper
but hit me like a door

Seems kind
A little funny
“I was buying pants”
He laughed at my dry, offhand remarks
And I was struck, wondered
what he did in his spare time
Gamer? Sport guy?
What does he want out of life?
College plans? Entrepreneur?
Like me, looking for his way?

Makes me wonder what would happen if I said
Hey, what’s your story, kid?

Consequences

Composed 9/10/13
Description: Inspired by a similar event that happened today.

Light was just beginning to fade as they walked across the parking lot. The air was cloaked in a buttercup yellow, and dusty shadows from trees and cars spilled across the blacktop like prowling malicious spirits. The only sounds were the clopping and smacking of their shoes against the dry ground. Only with much focus could one pick up the distant cries of racing metal machines and the eerie lullaby of leaves.

He inhaled, and the air was like wood.

“Smells like someone’s burning something.”

His companion breathed. Her eyes paled; once an ocean, her irises melted into ice. She stared off into the distance, past the cars and the trees and the parking lot. Past the grass. Past the horizon.

He knew that look. She was Seeing something.

Her irises filled with ocean blue. Her pupils refocused on the ashen ground.

“What’s up?”

She looked across the parking lot and pointed.

“There. In the median. In the mulch between the trees.”

He followed her finger and noticed a trickle of smoke leaking from the ground. They walked over to the place where the wisp originated, just as she said, in a median filled with mulch and a few trees. A cigarette butt lay in the center of a ring of dried up woodchips; around its edges, the ring smoked. A tiny red spark brightened and dimmed at one point of the circle.

“Put it out,” she whispered.

He took his water bottle out of a pocket of his backpack and let the water flow over the ring. He spread the mulch with his shoe and stomped on it once he was done to make sure all the coals were out. The smoke halted.

His companion exhaled heavily, as if she had been holding her breath. He jumped back onto the blacktop and stared at her. Her eyes remained on the upturned earth.

“What was that about?” He asked. She nodded at the now damp mulch.

“That would have set the whole campus on fire.”

He looked back to the place. It was just a bit of mulch now, not at all remarkable. Even the cigarette butt was buried. He glanced up, then, to the buildings around him – grand, brick structures with tall, arched windows. A concrete fountain bubbled yards away.

“Really?” He looked back to the mulch. “But putting that out seemed so… insignificant.”

She nodded. “It always seems that way. But little, seemingly insignificant things change the world. A cigarette. A bullet. A kiss. They determine the course lives take. Or how they end.”

With one last look she turned and walked toward the place they had been heading before. His brow furrowed, but he stuck his hands in his pockets and followed.