Posted in What Pegman Saw

Add Coffee

It’s day three. I still have not had coffee. My husband, my loving, sweet, honorable husband has had beer. 

Of course.

“We’re in Germany!” So he had beer.

I poked at my half eaten fish and stared daggers through him. I told myself I wouldn’t sleep until I came up with the perfect revenge; until I could wipe that smug look away. He thought he found the perfect out.

He drank while watching the football game.

“It’s tradition! We’re supposed to!”

That was day two of our stupid pact.  

Oh, but today is day three. Today is MY day.

And there is nothing my sweet, loving husband hates more than history.

Lucky me, Frankfurt Cathedral offers a three hour tour, chock full of history and led by the most boring priest. 

“We have to go! The history! But I think I’ll have some coffee to stay awake.”

For What Pegman Saw. This weeks location is Frankfurt, Germany

Word Count: 147


To read more click the blue froggy


Posted in Photo

22-34/365 Magic Lives Here

You know the picture dump I promised somewhere around the mid-end of January. It’s here! Silent hurrahs all around.

These are a mixture of pictures from my camera and from my phone taken while I was wandering around the French Quarter and Jackson Square on a Sunday.

I first set foot in New Orleans when I was around 13 years old and I’ve had a continuous love affair with the city since.

20180120-IMG_671220180120-IMG_671920180120-IMG_672020180120-IMG_673820180120-IMG_676620180120-IMG_676820180120-IMG_676920180120-IMG_677420180120-IMG_6783

20180120-IMG_6780

Posted in stream of consciousness

Chase Them Away

It’s Sunday, I’m still working out a good opening here.

Prompt – Congregate

Music – Pink Floyd – Meddle

*Started writing, forgot to start timer, delete, start timer*

Congregate

Congregation.

I don’t go to church.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise.

When I was 15 my parents moved from a city area to a much more rural area.

I went from a performing arts high school to an agricultural one

I didn’t even know that was a thing …

One day I was on the bus

I took my headphones out at the request of a boy who was wearing a fish hook on his hat and had a clump of dip in his lip

I can’t remember what he asked but the subject turned to religion

To which I responded “I don’t know, I’m not Christian, I don’t go to church.”

At the time, if I had to put a name to some idea of religious practices, then I’d say I was Pagan.

Poor guy was floored.

“I thought you were a good Christian girl!”

I congregate in a different way.

I go to concerts.

One time I went because I thought maybe the music would be loud enough to drown the bullshit in my head.

Now I can’t always understand what you’re saying in normal settings and I go to shows to drown myself under the sound.

Let it wash over me and take away all the self hate that can settle in my mind.

This morning I woke up and something just hit me, straight to my core.

I found myself thinking in terms of self hate, “pathetic piece of …”

I push those things away and congregate in big, or sometimes not big, raucous, sometimes not raucous, groups

To let loud melodies chase them away.


Go check out The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch

Posted in Word Prompt

Monster

A couple of days ago I came across this challenge – here – on the obsessive writer and I thought, “well that’s cool, I’ll give it a go.”

The theme is Sin. Here’s my entry.

Monster

Thomas stared into the mirror for several long moments. His bloodshot eyes darted around his darkening reflection as the voices echoed through his head.

“It was him!”

“The fucker in the Godly robes!”

“The Father almighty!”

Beads of sweat carved stark paths through the splattered blood on his cheeks.

“They have sinned!” The voices cried, “They both must pay!”

“Yes.” Thomas nodded to his reflection. “Both of them have to pay.”

He clutched the hunting knife to his side as he staggered through the marbled hallways towards the back of the church.

“Father!” Thomas cried as he approached the confessional.

The older man with glasses perched on the edge of his nose swung back the curtain and hurried forward before realizing it was Thomas slowly approaching him.

“Thomas?! What’s going on?” The older man’s eyes landed on the thick red specks already resting on Thomas’s youthful cheeks and the hunting knife caked with a thin layer of drying blood. “What have you done?” The older man whispered.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned …” The older man backed towards the confessional slowly while raising a hand towards the advancing young man.

“Thomas, I don’t know what’s going on but it doesn’t have to be like this. Just stop, we can talk.  I’m sorry for whatever has happened but this isn’t necessary.”

For a moment, Thomas seemed to falter but as the older man fumbled beneath his robes for his cell phone Thomas moved forward with renewed purpose.

“You’re not sorry. They all say you aren’t. They all know, we all know.” The Father’s heels rammed into the step of the confessional but before he could fall Thomas grabbed his collar. “We all know.” He hissed.

Thomas plunged the knife into the man’s stomach, cutting him from his gut to his bowels.

“And now they’ll all know too.” He let the Father fall into a crumpled shell of a man.

The pool of sticky red blood oozed slowly under the confessional curtain around the Father’s feet, accented by the praying nuns who now approached down the hallway and the slow calm breathing of Thomas as he took his seat in the booth.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”

Through the small opening Thomas could hear the Father’s labored breathing.

“M … Mon … Monster.” The choked voiced replied.

Thomas smirked into the dimly lit booth, the old man had guts.

“Aren’t we all Father? Aren’t we all?”