For your comfort and ease of accessing my 'flashers', I'll list the latest ones first.
Here's hoping another full year of 'prompt' challenges will be met and my readers continue to gain pleasure from them. As always, I hope to cover many genres and a multitude of subjects.
***NB: Now you can see how far behind I am in copies of my stories here. Have been SO busy editing and submitting entries to writing contests. NOW - everything is screaming for my attention. Ah well... only nine to catch up on at this moment!
Bluffy, the Feline Flimflammer - 'bluff' 12/7/2019
Girls just wanna have Fun - 'touch' 5/7/2019
Flower Power - 'tension' 28/6/2019
Rough Diamond Cut, Pt. 2 - 'fixed' 21/6/2019
Rough Diamond Cut - 'trouble' 14/6/2019
Ohh! No-o-o... - 'impact' 7/6/2019
Seriously Signed... Dad - 'fast' 31/5/2019
Mica - 'hide' 17/5/2019
Just a minute... 'easy' 10/5/2019
[prompt: 'hide' 17/5/2019]
"Who's that lurking in the shadows? Come out here for a minute. Don't be shy."
She's been hiding in the background for a l-o-n-g time. Gently now. She's SO timid. But I've been there before, time and time again rescuing traumatised beings, soothing shattered souls. I CAN do it again.
I smile and stretch out my hand, held low, palm carefully upturned - a certain sign of submission to all wild things. Her eyes are huge, but they widen further as I talk, despite making my voice as loving and gentle as I can.
"Don't I know you?" Something is simultaneously so familiar, yet strangely unknown about this small being. Her midnight eyes glow suddenly. Do I see hope? Admiration? Fear? I find my heart swelling with love and the most protective desire ever.
I recognise my Inner Child... the one damaged by neglect; by being pushed to the back shelf to be dealt with another day. Have there been occasional sympathetic, even empathetic thoughts I've had about her? None have scratched the surface of her need for recognition and nurturing. THIS is the moment - to acknowledge, to focus, to accept pain unwittingly caused - and by sharing the load, ease the burden on the small shoulders of my Inner child, and with a blessed domino effect, on my today self as well.
Come little one, I whisper. Relax! This is OUR time. I will look after you totally now. She must have a name for her rebirth. Little Christine would be OK... but no. My Inner Child, I whisper and my imagination scoots around like a toddler who's just learned to walk and now runs haphazardly. Suddenly, there it is. MICA - My Inner Child Arises. I like it. MICA... the name of my special small self. Her approval is intensely physical as she cuddles so tightly inside my heart, it hurts... until I focus my ALL on my yesterdays. Slowly, the pain dissolves into a slow ache - keeping her presence alive.
I cannot remember our actual beginnings - only hearsay by parents and siblings. Sad, soft tales of Mum nearly losing her mind after my baby brother died in her arms... and almost losing herself a second time when she found she was pregnant again - this time with gratitude and happiness. My sister shared tales of the laughter I brought back into that bleak and grieving house and into the hearts of the whole family. "After all," she would say, "who can be serious with a joyous gurgling baby around?" Her hand would tenderly cup the side of my face at moments like that.
MICA and I automatically assumed our role in life as making others happy; like a chameleon, adapting to whatever any other being needed of us. It seemed innocent enough to our small spirit. None saw the inherent problems this caring and pushing our own feelings and needs ever backwards could cause. Too many assumed I was strong enough to cope with every tough moment rearing its head, and beliefs formed that I ALWAYS coped; ALWAYS survived; could ALWAYS be leant upon when others faltered and might fail. A strange copability, this. It's a positive I can gratefully pat MICA on the head for... I think.
SO much to fetch out, examine in detail and try to learn about. Been a long time happening, wise little MICA, but like all things - better late than never. An amazing journey we've shared. Let's see what other hidden treasures we can uncover.
**Author's Note: With NO humble apologies to the WC Police, here is a rare photo of my small elusive MICA who continues to inspire me -
Between her mesmerising eyes and her brilliant words, I am re-energised and believe my every answer is deep within her.
(prompt: 'break' 24/5/2019)
"See you, Ruby. Be a good girl... " and the man climbed into his new four-wheel drive utility.
"Bye Ruby," and the woman waved from her window as they drove away.
I held her collar, imagining she would follow them and break her heart... or her neck, getting up onto that moving tray-top. But Ruby offered no resistance, instead turning her head to lick my other hand. Shortly after their vehicle disappeared from sight, I slowly let her go. She simply sat for a short while, staring across the paddock at the highway where she last saw the vehicle. Her confused eyes and quivering body fairly shouted she was as bewildered as we were.
Nine years old, they'd said. Had her since a pup. And it's really OK, they'd explained, her strange bow-legged stance with toes turned in. Born that way. Never stopped her from being a fully active, playful dog all her life. Healthy as... they said, insisting they'd never have parted with her except they were moving from farm to seaside town block, and she wouldn't fit in. Their little terrier would.
Good dog... really obedient, they said. Never any good as a working dog though, despite her strong Kelpie genes. Not like their other Kelpie. Now there was a born worker. Neighbours had snapped her up soon as they heard about the move. But they didn't want Ruby. Nobody did.
In desperation they'd put her photo and a Free to Good Home message on the community notice board in town. That's where I first saw her - although now we could see the photo was quite a few years old. The timing was immaculate. Our oldest girl had died a month before and our sweet Kelly continued grieving. Me too... and hubby, but he wouldn't admit to it. But we two-leggeds were too old for a puppy now, getting a few creaks and groans on standing after a lengthy sit. Likewise bending... and kneeling? Forget it! An adult dog would definitely be the 'go'. But a mature age model like Ruby? She surely didn't look nine years old, b-u-t ... those eyes fairly bled her plea and I found my eternal rescuer's heart re-engage. Old habits die hard.
Fully five minutes after her so-called Mum and Dad parted with her so casually, without a tear or sniffle - not even a final, regretful look - Ruby abruptly stood up. I moved forward, expecting she might trot up our driveway to the road. Uh-uh! She turned to me and hurled herself into my open arms. Her quivering body and wagging tail were the enthusiastic body language of her newfound joy at being part of our family.
With great dark eyes fixed on mine adoringly, in a series of loving whimpers and 'yippee-type' yelps she positively agreed the rest of her life would definitely be the best of her life... and it had begun. Couldn't take the smile off my face as I said -
"Welcome to your forever home, Ruby love."
Author's Note: If anyone recognises this story, it's a reborn version of a tale from another prompt, some three years ago.
AND... we would discover our dear old girl was actually well over 11 when we adopted her and lived SO happily nearly four more years with us, deservedly treated and loved like the grand old lady she was... until she finally died quietly in her sleep. Uh-oh... someone's eyes just overflowed again!