The Good Fight (Haiku)

The beast within lurks.
Appetite for destruction.
Battle rages on.

~ Teri Liptak ~

A bit of my current Work in Progress

          Sitting quietly, he flicks the ashes off of his cigarette, exhaling a curl of smoke. His eyes remain fixed on the unsuspecting woman. Brazenly drinking her in, comfortable that he is too far away from her to be noticed. That's what he prefers. Flying under the radar long enough to get a feel for a person before they see him. Getting a sense of who they really were before they became affected by who he is when they recognize him. It was a rare thing these days that someone didn't immediately know him, or think they did. Pulling his cap down further over his brow, he leans back into the over-sized Adirondack chair, settling in for a spell. A pony-necked beer sits at his feet, his best friend for the moment. There's just enough breeze coming off the water to offer relief from the sticky heat of the afternoon.

          The woman's movements are fluid and graceful. Moving almost like a dancer, comfortable in her own skin. He's drawn to her. Her laughter carries on the wind as it picks up, swirling the skirt of her long, white sundress around her tan legs. Her little dog races along the beach, barking wildly as it runs in and out of the incoming waves. Despite his foul mood, he finds himself smiling at the sound of her carefree laughter at the dog's antics. Her long blonde hair, loosely braided down her back, whips around in the breeze. Reaching up, she brushes back some escaped tendrils from her face and squats down to pet the dog. Sunglasses hide her eyes from him. Not that he could see the color from here anyway, but he wonders . . . blue, green, brown? He decides they're blue.

           As she stands back up, the left strap of her dress slides down her arm. Quickly, she reaches up and moves it back into place. The quick glimpse of white, creamy skin untouched by the sun, tells him she isn’t wearing much under the dress. He takes a quick swig of beer, as sweat beads up on his brow. He removes his cap, wipes it away with his arm, and settles the cap back on his head. She's a welcome distraction from the hell of a week he’s been having. First time in days he's able to relax a bit. Slowly, the kinks in his neck and shoulders start loosening up, from the sun, the beer, and her. Picking up the notebook and pen from the table beside him, he opens it, pen poised to write.

          The empty page of his notebook taunts him, and he finds himself watching her again. Foamy waves wash over her feet as she walks along the waterline. Pausing every now and then, she picks up a seashell and slips it into the pocket of her dress. Walking along, she kicks at the water like a care-free child. Reaching into the sea, she scoops up a handful of water and splashes it at the dog, who scurries out of reach. Again, her laughter coaxes a smile out of him. The sound of it stirs something in him.

          Walking back towards where he's sitting, she and her little dog sit down on the blanket she's laid out. Pouring some water into a bowl, she offers the dog a drink. Dropping down on the blanket beside the dog, she hikes the skirt of her sundress up high on her already golden legs, offering them to the sun for browning. Leaning back, she tilts her face to the sun and soaks in its warmth. Happiness radiates from the relaxed smile on her face. There's a soothing peacefulness about her. Taking another drink of beer, he polishes it off with a thirsty pull. His eyes never leave her. He watches her take out a pad and pencil from the bright yellow tote bag beside her. Pushing her sunglasses back up her nose, she bends her head down and starts writing.

          Thinking about his own writer’s block, frustration swells inside him again. Needing to get something down on paper today, the stress wraps around him like a noose. The melody just isn’t coming to him, and the damn deadline looms. He's overthinking things again, stressing himself out. Walking back into the house, he rummages around in the refrigerator, pulling out a six-pack. Reaching over as an afterthought, he scoops up his ukulele and walks back outside. The woman is no longer sitting on the blanket. She and her dog are gone. Setting the beer and ukulele down, he quickly scans the waterline looking for her. A surprising disappointment rises in him when he can't find her. He makes his way down the ramp onto the sand. Turning to look across the dunes, he pulls his cap down further onto his head. Shielding his eyes from the sun out of habit, even though he wears Ray-Bans, he looks along the crowded area by the water's edge. Still no sight of her. Damn. He decides to walk a little ways, see if she has headed toward the front of the beach, more toward the highway. Without asking himself why, he sets out looking for her.  

          

Vegas, Baby!

     I've always been a firm believer in maintaining a bucket list.  (Separate post to come.) Getting to Las Vegas some day was in the top ten. So, when we got the chance to go to the land of bright lights, glitz, and glamour for my brother-in-law's birthday celebration, I jumped at the chance.  A bonus (for me) was that fact that we would be flying.  I adore flying. The hubby, not so much.  Let's just say, we've been back a week, and I think he finally unclenched yesterday.  He's a landlubber, that one.

     Lady Luck did not smile on us, but she did smile on a lady playing slots next to us, to the tune of $6,400.00.  So close, but no cigar.  I asked her to rub my arm for good luck, still no.

Pool at Treasure Island Hotel

Statues outside of Caesar Hotel

Part of the "Strip"

An erupting "volcano" outside of the Mirage Hotel

Beautiful ceiling in a Vegas mall

Darth Vader made out of jelly beans. :)

Indoor gondolas at the mall

Paris Hotel

The "Strip" at night

Ha. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?

Early, early morning flight coming home

Flying home with the sunrise at my shoulder

     One more thing checked off ye ole' bucket list. :)  Now, on to Italy. Soon. (Hopefully.)

Online Readability Calculators

Click the link below for an interesting article about "readability" of your work.  I use the "Hemingway" editor app, which I find easy to use and helpful.  You can download a desktop version for free.  http://www.hemingwayapp.com/



Online Readability Calculators

Next on My Reading List

Looking forward to reading this next.  I'm trying to make it a summer of classics, both authors and their stories.



The Secret Diaries of Charlotte Brontë - a review

25 Random Things About Me

1. My favorite holiday is Halloween.
2. I have a phobia about driving on overpasses.  Lots of deep breathing required.  
3. I suspect I have dyscalculia. (Basically, it's dyslexia involving numbers.) This would explain my allergy to Algebra.
4. Speaking of allergies, I'm allergic to penicillin.
5. My classmates voted me Homecoming Queen my senior year. I still have the crown and sash. 
6. I adopted a stray rooster and named him Carl.
7. I hate coconut.  Blech!
8. I like to go barefoot whenever possible.  
9. I've never had a broken bone. (Knock on wood.)
10. My favorite color is white. No, really.
11. In spite of #10, I wear way too much black. 
12. For some reason, my childhood nickname from my father was "Duke" ???
13. My sister's was "Gator".  (Again, ???)
14. In 7th grade, I won a costume contest at school. I was dressed as a girl from the 50's. Poodle skirt and ankle socks included. 
15. My mom made all my prom dresses.  She was an amazing seamstress.
16. When I was a little girl, I loved going camping. Now, not so much.
17. I love taking I.Q. tests.
18. I'm not a fan of Earnest Hemingway's writing.
19. When I can't sleep, I watch ASMR videos on Youtube.
20. In the fourth grade, I placed third in UIL District Competition in "Ready Writing".
21. I like spiders. I'm not a "squisher". I'm a "catch and release" girl.
22. My favorite season is fall.
23. My first live concert was "Alabama" and "Garth Brooks". 
24. Now, I hate country music.
25. I competed in the Mrs. Texas pageant. Hated it.

Just Finished Reading . . .

     You know a book is good when you polish it off in one day.  Between doing laundry and cleaning up the kitchen, I think it took me about three hours to finish it.

     It starts out with a dad longing to get closer to his son.  The twists and turns their lives take due to one decision made in a split second will keep you turning the pages.

    Her writing style pulls you in and won't let you go until the last page.  I highly recommend "Keep Quiet" for a quick, captivating summer-time read.

Inner Strength (Short Story/Under 750 words)

I knew it was a mistake as soon as it was over.  What possessed me to do this? Looking down at the dark ink on the inside of my wrist, I shook my head at myself.  Tears welled up in my eyes as regret took hold.

The tattoo artist looked at me with concern. “You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure,” I answered, trying to keep my composure. It wasn’t his fault I was an utter failure at being spontaneous and free-spirited. On a whim, I had decided to “live a little” and step outside of my comfort zone. I couldn’t even do this mid-life crisis thing right.  What had seemed like a cool symbol of inspiration and maybe a tiny bit of rebellion now seemed to mock me and my attempt at “wild and crazy”.  The tattoo itself wasn’t so bad. He had done a beautiful job. The Chinese character for “Inner Strength” had somehow seemed a meaningful choice at the time. Stupid margaritas.  After paying, I gathered my things and made my way back out to my partners in crime, my best friends since high school, Susan and Kate.  Neither one of them had been quite as free-spirited, despite their share of the margaritas.  I envied their unmarked wrists and wise fear of needles and rebellion.

“Did you get it?” Susan asked as I walked back into the waiting room.  

“Oh, yeah, I got it,” I said with a regretful sigh. I stuck out the offending wrist for their inspection.

“I like it!” Kate said excitedly. “Did it hurt?”

“Hell, yeah, it hurt,” I replied. “Why did I do this? Why couldn’t I just have gotten a new haircut, or taken a painting class,or something like most women do at this age. This is so permanent and  . . . there. My stupidity for all the world to see.  I’ve doomed myself to long sleeves forever.”

“It’s not that bad,” Susan said, trying not to laugh. “I think it looks cool.”

“Cool, yeah, right. Except it’s on a middle-aged woman’s wrist,” I said eyeballing it from every angle. “That might cancel out any cool factor.”

* * *

As the days passed by, I thought about my tattoo less and less. People hadn’t been quite as shocked by it as I had feared.  It blended in unless I pointed it out.  Life marched on as it always does, until months had passed.

Soon, other matters occupied my mind. Matters of life and death that stop you in your tracks.  My diagnosis of breast cancer arrived a week before Christmas.  In a heartbeat, my world changed. The boring days that I had taken for granted became precious.

As the I.V. drip sent the poison into my veins, I tried to be upbeat for Susan and Kate. This was my fourth treatment, and they had been there for every one of them. Keeping me company, they were always offering me ice chips, companionship, and laughter.

After the fifth treatment, my hair started falling out. Kate brought me a beautiful blonde wig.  Once I discovered I looked more like Miss Piggy in it than myself, she brought me a bright red bandana. That worked. I rocked it.

“You’ve definitely got the face for short hair, or in this case, no hair. You have a gamine quality to you that makes you adorable,” Susan said to reassure me.  Her words were deeply appreciated, as I felt more like Mr. Clean than gamine.

By late spring, I was bone-tired. I had given it my all and didn’t know how much I had left.  Each day was beginning to be a struggle. I could see the worry in their eyes when we were together, despite their attempts to hide it.

“Hey, are you awake?” Susan asked as she and Kate came into my bedroom a few days later.

“Sure, come in,” I said.  

“We have something to show you,” Kate said as they walked to my bed. They turned their arms over at the same time. Tattoos that matched mine decorated each of their wrists. The one I had gotten that night after we had a terrific dinner together with so much laughter and way too many margaritas. Remembering feeling alive and reckless enough to be a little bit crazy made me smile.  I hadn’t thought about that wonderful night or the stupid tattoo in months. Overcome with emotion, I hugged them and sobbed. “Inner strength” was now the most beautiful thing in my life.

SoundFuel - Music You Can't Write Without : The Directory

SoundFuel - Music You Can't Write Without : The Directory:



Stumbled across this site on Pinterest.  It is a wonderful tool for those of us who like to write while listening to music.

Flip of the Coin (Etheree form)

Love
and hate
Hand in hand
Similar heat
Two faces, same coin
Emotions colliding
Betrayal leads to heartbreak
Fleeting pleasure sabotages
My fate is sealed by his lips on mine
A moment in time can not be undone

~ Teri Liptak ~