Short Story: The Christmas Visit

Thank you to Gracie and Darran for this lovely theme idea- A Christmas Present You Didn’t Want! I decided to “mimick” this and make the idea into my own.

Just so it is known to anyone reading this, I am using this theme just for the sake of creative writing- this is a completely made-up story that has never happened to me before!

I am also aware it is not Christmas time, but it is never too early to get in the holiday spirit right? 🙂

Hope you enjoy! ❤

I was completely heart broken about having to leave my home. It was seemingly filled top to bottom with new presents from Santa. I cried and cried for my mummy to just let me stay home so I could play with everything. My hands were aching to drive around with my new toy fire truck, and even though it was bitter cold out, I wanted daddy to take me outside to play catch with my new ball.

Despite my incessant wailing, refusing to leave my bedroom to get in the car, mummy still made me take this long, agonizing, dull trip. I don’t remember the car ride itself, because I think my tears had finally put me to sleep. Daddy woke me up and told me I had to walk myself into my nanny’s home. He didn’t carry me like he usually does.

When we walked in, my daddy had to write our names down on a desk that was in the entry way. I plugged my nose like little kids do when they cannonball into a swimming pool; the smell that painted this place was incredibly displeasing. I guess the smell didn’t bother mummy, because she told me to stop and be polite.

We walked down a few long hallways to my nanny’s room. Once in nanny’s bedroom, I hid behind my mummy, which had been my comfort zone for all my six years.

Daddy went and kissed nanny on the cheek and took a seat by her bed. Mummy chose a chair by the door and pulled me up onto her lap while snuggling her arms around me. We sat like that for a while.

  I watched daddy, who kept his eyes on nanny, telling her about how much of a big boy I am. I was too scared to talk, so I kept hiding my face behind mummy’s arms. Nanny didn’t say anything either, though. Nanny never really talked as much as she used to. I just don’t think she has anything to say.

I couldn’t sit anymore, so I pulled out of mummy’s arms and started walking around nanny’s room. There are no pictures, or candles, or flowers like nanny’s old house used to have. I don’t know why she moved to a different house and why mummy and daddy have been taking me to see her so often.

I kept asking mummy if I could go home and play with my toys now. She kept telling me to be patient, my toys will be at home waiting for me.

“Now though, mummy. Now. Now. Please now. I wanna go home, I’m bored.”

Finally, daddy kissed nanny’s cheek again and said we could go home. I was so happy to go home and play with my new firetruck.

Daddy picked me up because he wanted me to say goodbye to nanny. I held on to daddy with both my hands, anxiously gripping his back. As we walked closer to the bed, I noticed how my nanny’s eyes were watching me. She had a funny looking smile on her face. I could see her mouth twitching, like she was trying to say something to me. Nothing came out of her mouth.

I remembered the times when I was littler at my nanny’s house. We would play games together, eat popsicles, and go to the playground.

Daddy leaned down so I could give her a hug. I wrapped my arms around her, but only one of her arms loosely reached hold of me. I said “love you, nanny” as daddy carried me away and out of nanny’s house.

“Nanny’s really sick,” daddy told me when we were driving home. “Her brain isn’t letting her talk to us or even move.”

I sat there and let my naive, innocent, 6-year-old mind fully capture what daddy was telling me. It was hard for me to comprehend that my once lively, happy, outgoing nanny was now sick.

I still remember this day, over twenty years later. I remember reluctantly going to see my nanny. I remember the hug I gave her, and me reminding my nanny that I loved her.

What I don’t remember is the firetruck Santa left for me under the Christmas tree.

Advertisements

I Wanna Write.

I wanna write, to learn who I am, and who I wanna be.

I wanna write

To release all my emotions:

My fury, my depression, my elation, my calamity.

I wanna write

To impress others by showing them

Yes, I can actually be good at something.  This is me. I’m a writer.

I wanna write

To be creative

To free the part of my brain that so often gets hidden in the midst of a serious and painful reality.

I wanna write

Because it’s easier than talking to people

My words are too  often frozen and cemented on my tongue.

I wanna write

To show others who I am

And to unleash my soul onto them.

But, this begs my next question…

Who even am I?

I don’t even know who I am.

I wanna write

To learn who I am

And who I wanna be.

heart b

The Wonderful Feeling of Sitting at the Beach

There’s a sense of calamity and serenity you get, while sitting by the ocean.

Or the lake,

Or the sea,

or any body of water, really.

You hear the changing of the waves arriving abruptly at shore, then leaving quietly having only left wet sand in it’s path.

Your whole body seemingly becomes covered with sand, water, warmth, love, happiness, and peace.

The endless body of water, whether crystal blue or mucky brown, looks back at you with ease and lack of judgement.

You look out over the horizon and think about the gigantic world out there; all the people, all the places, all the things you have yet to see.

Because after all, you are one single person in a world filled with billions-

That realization is equally terrifying and comforting.

Guest Post: Our Infinite Galaxies by Tyler Turner

Hello, lovelies! Today I bring to you my first guest post in a series I am starting. It is written and contributed by my friend, Tyler!

I have been searching for writers interested in doing a guest post for me; the prompt that I give the interested writers is: what makes you unique? What makes you different from the friends. family, acquaintances surrounding you?

I let the writers “fly away” with this idea, allowing them to look into themselves in order to express what they see as unique about themselves. Though I assist them with a writing prompt, the rest is up to them as to what they personally believe makes them unique and special as an individual. (It’s obviously not something I can decide for them!)

Tyler’s writing is the first post I have received in response to my writing prompt, and it is the perfect post to lead the other writers who are interested in doing a guest post for me.

I hope you enjoy taking the time to read this post by Tyler, because not only is it incredibly well written but it lets us into the world of a fascinating, special human that has so much to offer the world- which, is my main goal with my guest posts. I want to show off the goodness and individuality of as many people as I can.

If you are interested in writing a guest post for me, please feel free to let me know- I would love to feature you on my blog!

 

Our Infinite Galaxies

Tyler Turner

You know that feeling you get when you look up at the stars in the night sky? When the infinite universe is stretched out above you and you feel indescribably small? If you’re anything like me, which I bet you are, that feeling is both exhilarating and terrifying.

Who am I?

In that sense, I guess I’m just like you, gazing out into the abyss.

There must be more. Sometimes I wish when we looked into each other’s eyes we got that feeling. That feeling like we were gazing into a complex universe. After all, each one of us filled with our own galaxies and planets, shaped by our lives.

Who am I?

I am a complex galaxy.

I think we forget that. I think we forget just how complex we truly are.

I am a twenty-four-year-old from North Carolina. Growing up in middleclass, suburban American, I was blessed to have friends of all different nationalities and backgrounds. Most of my friends didn’t look anything like me and I wouldn’t have asked for it any other way.

As a child, I remember seeing those galaxies. I remember the wonder of making a new friend. The thrill of going to their house for the first time and wondering what it would smell like? What kind of food did they eat?

It wasn’t until I got older that I noticed how we seem to lose that spark. How we began to no longer see the infinite light within each other.

I started to grapple with the fact that I was a black kid growing up in America. The protection my parents had given me could only last so long. One look on the television screen proves the rampant prejudice and racism that runs through our nation.  I realized that people would not always look at what was inside of me. They would not be concerned by my hopes and dreams; they would be blinded by their own hatred.

Who am I?

Maybe I’m afraid like you. I worry about our country, our world. I worry about the marginalized members of our society. Those mistreated for their beliefs or the color of the skin. I’ve been on the receiving end of that injustice. I’ve felt the sting of inequality. When did we become so blinded by what’s on the outside and forget the true depth of each and every one of us?

Who am I?

I’m hopeful, and I can only wish that you are too.

I believe we can make a change. The world desperately needs us. I believe it begins with how we see each other. Not classified by our dividing lines, but united by our humanity. United by our infinite galaxies.

So once more…who am I? What’s a glimpse of my galaxy?

My name is Tyler. I am an aspiring author. I love fantasy and have always spent much time creating fictional worlds. I’ve always been a natural leader. This was a gift I found at a young age. I also suffer from anxiety and mild depression. Sometimes it feels unbearable. Writing is truly one of my favorite escapes. Above all else, I am a follower of Jesus and believe that all of us were made in His image.

I thought about how I could write about something unique about myself. Something that I thought would make me stand out from other people, but then I looked up into the night sky. It reminded me that we are all not so different, after all.

On the surface we are all human and underneath we are infinitely complex like galaxies of stars, but somewhere in between, we all have the same desire to be loved, excepted, to feel as though we have a purpose here.

Here I am. A complex human being, just like you. I am filled with my hopes, desires, dreams, and love.

heart b