Category Archives: Creative Writing

Tie a Yellow Ribbon… (#RMD 2023-02-15)

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It is time for another of Rory’s Morning Dawdler (#RMD). Three times a week Rory, The Autistic Composter at Earthly Comforts posts several questions for the blogosphere to ponder.

1. If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be and why?

As a Canadian, it would be very easy to pick a Maple Tree. It makes delicious syrup for your pancakes and is the national symbol that appears on our flag. It would be the natural choice on this February 15th aka Flag Day in Canada. Happy Flag Day everyone but to be clear the maple tree is not my choice.

I remember the old oak tree out back of my Grandfather’s place. Us grandkids spent many hours playing beneath that tree. We collected and made bubble blowers pipes from the acorns it dropped and climbed its branches. We never did tie a yellow ribbon around that old oak tree though.

It was a sad day when the property was sold and the contractors took the tree down to build row houses. The old oak was wise and majestic and as I age those are qualities I can aspire to, well majestic may be a stretch but hopefully, I’ve acquired some wisdom along the way.

2. Name five (5) uses for a stapler other than stapling.

I’m pretty sure everyone has covered a myriad of uses for a stapler so instead of listing five, I am going to recount a story that I ensure will be the most bizarre use of a stapler ever.

I remember some years ago listening to an interview with a Metal band, I want to say Guns and Roses but it may have been Mötley Crüe, Metallica or another band of the genre. I really don’t remember.

The DJ conducting the radio interview and the band members were discussing the autograph signing session at the HMV on Yonge Street in Toronto when he asked, “What was the weirdest fan request for an autograph?”

One of the band members responded by saying that they’d had requests to sign body parts, boobs, butts or that type of thing but that the most bizarre was an incident prior to a show in San Francisco where a fan was requesting tickets.

The fan approached the table and in the discussion, he said he’d do anything for a pair of ducats to the show that evening. There happened to be a stapler sitting on the table and as a joke one of the band members said, “Ok, would you grab that stapler and staple yourself with it?” The guy instantly picked up the stapler and before anyone could say anything, banged four staples into his own forehead. “It was surreal and it was the moment I realized how devoted our fans were. He stood there with blood running down his forehead so we had to get him a pair.”

3. Do you believe in tipping for good service received and do you think that tipping makes for a better service?

Personally, I don’t believe in tipping. That said, I accept that there are certain industries where tipping is traditional and I normally oblige in those circumstances. However, I believe tipping should not be considered when determining wages and as such expected. Employers should be paying their staff reasonable wages. I believe it to be a fairer business practice that will attract and retain employees and lead to better customer satisfaction.

What I find troubling is that the practice of tipping has seemingly begun to creep into non-traditional business environments. For example, I was at a concert this week where I purchased a concert tee for my wife. While completing the transaction the electronic payment terminal provided options to add a 15% / 20% / 25% tip to the already overpriced tee that the attendant grabbed from the giant box behind her. Seriously? Employers, pay your staff! I can cite other examples, the local grocery store that asks for tips when you buy food from the pre-made food counter, or the coffee shop app sending me reminders to tip the Barista hours after I’ve paid and received my drive-thru order. Again, EMPLOYERS PAY YOUR F#CK!NG STAFF APPROPRIATELY!!!

4. Do you have a blog to write or do you have a blog to socialise only and which one could you survive without if one was taken away?

My blog is first and foremost a vehicle for me to write. When I started I didn’t know what to expect but the social aspect has been an added bonus. And now for the shameless plug. Check out the rest of my site, visit us at…


Credits and Additional Information

Private Hell

Private Hell

Darkness creeps along the torn and frayed strands of my mind.

From order to disorder, every shuffle of the deck reveals another horror.

In the light, no outward signs of turmoil while the demons assume my soul.

Standing on the precipice; freedom from this private hell is just one step away.


Credits and Additional Information

Mass Extinction

Mass Extinction

My trunk stretches into the salty water,
but this will not quench my thirst.
These stone monuments
carved by the mother of everything
will be all that remains of the
great herds that once roamed here.
As we go extinct, so does your kind, waiting for
our fossils to be discovered in the next great epoch.


Credits and Additional Information

Spacetime

Spacetime

“What’s in that bubble floating on the wind, Daddy?”

“It contains the entirety of a life within; everything it was, everything it is, and everything it will become.”


The tick of the clock only moves in one direction from our insignificant perspective but that is not proof of times linearity; spacetime just ‘IS’. Everything has already happened, no beginning, no end, no entrance or exit from the trajectory set upon us. Perhaps by God or chance, I won’t postulate on the how or why beyond accepting that everything is relative.

It seems pointless to fret, if the path our lives will follow has already been settled I’m certain none of us know the outcome and in that sense, the risks we take are real, the love and tears and laughter genuine, and the direction we choose to go remains ours to determine.


Credits and Additional Information

Just Another Day

Content Warning: Contains violence and coarse language.

Just Another Day

I was the reasonable one, Dave thought sitting in the lot. The one who ensured contracts were in order and deadlines were met. I quit the tennis club, cycling, stopped seeing friends, giving everything to the job and this company. Peter, my old boss knew I was the glue that held it together before he retired but the new punk was blind. Always with the chide remarks about my gray hair and bathroom breaks. Always nitpicking my work, complaining about how formal I wrote or whining to colleagues about me returning from lunch a couple minutes late. Of course, never to my face or ever once acknowledging that I arrived early and stayed late, other than to suggest that if I wasn’t such a dinosaur I wouldn’t need to be here.

Then there is Bob. How many times do I have to complain about his hygiene? The guy hadn’t seen the inside of a shower in months and the stains on the same pair of pants he’d worn for weeks could have passed as a god-damned biohazard. To compound the matter, Sally was compensating by wearing a bottle of perfume every fucking day and twat-boss was on her case, not the real problem! We all have to work in this shithole, but it was hard when the haze of rose-scented Bobshit was permeating your brain! Something had to change!


Unknown

Sally observed Dave as he exits his car. It wasn’t like him to be late. He was talking to himself as he fretted, appearing agitated as he paced back and forth several times before opening the trunk. She continued to watch as he donned a heavy-looking vest she’d never seen before. He fumbled about in the trunk and with his belt for several minutes, but she couldn’t make out what he was doing.

His intention becoming clearer as he pulled the mask from atop his grey-fringed dome and headed towards the side door. Gasping, her hand instinctually shot to her mouth when she could make out what he was carrying. Realizing a reckoning of sorts was upon them she ducked into the washroom and locked the door. She was careful not to move or even breathe too loudly as she waited for the commotion outside the door to stop.


Credits and Additional Information

12. Revenge: Trinkets

12. Revenge: Trinkets

Lilith watched through the window as the woman rummaged through some old trinkets.

Charlton loved Inez. Plus, for a time she could bridle his deviant urges. Still, the demons slowly consumed him and they drifted apart.

Inez plucked the ring from its tiny box and a black cloud filled the room. Lilith grinned, her beastly servant becoming visibly agitated at its presence. She was right, Inez held the key to his soul.


The Revenge Series


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The Nightbird

The Nightbird

It is absurd in a dubious kind of way,
the need to fit in with simulated norms.
I don’t care anymore if the jukebox plays
a re-mix of this fucked up excuse for a life.

The nightbird does not bend beneath such sorrow,
soaring high above the smoke-filled bordellos,
She knows no fear of being crushed beneath
the one-eyed monster’s armadillo-skinned boot.

I lay here all but empty – shamefully waiting
for the scent of homemade soap, and
the primal thrust of a hot starched pistol,
Though I’ve not a pound of flesh left to give.

I’m swept high upon a ribbon that swirls
in the turbulent eddies she leaves behind,
Catching glimpses of freedom in the pull of her wake.
Below my battered shell awaits, unsure if I’ll return.


Credits and Additional Information

In Between

In Between

Serena could feel her heart pounding and muscles tightening in the moments before the sedative took effect. Terrified to find herself in the one situation she had dreaded her entire life, where the lines begin to blur in between actuality and perception.

She struggled to push the harrowing shadow that hovered in the haze above her away but her lifeless limbs lay like dead weights at her sides. Not wholly unconscious but just beyond reality’s grasp, and left retreating into the darkest horrors churning in the recesses of her mind.


As consciousness crept back in and blinding light filtered through her eyelids signalling that she was somewhere else – was this the end?

She flung away warm blankets and struggled to lift herself against the push of the nurse’s thrust, “Everything is ok Serena, you are in recovery and the Doctor will be around to see you later but for the time being you need to rest.”


Credits and Additional Information

Out of the Cold

Out of the Cold

As the thermometer plummeted to new record lows and the chill of winter’s wind cut even deeper through the channel beneath Highway 89, Buzz feared his home and the bottle of antifreeze he keep tucked under his jacket wouldn’t be enough.

Miranda pleaded with Buzz to follow, but he was leery of the people in those shelters; they didn’t hold his best interest at heart and wanted him to conform to their idea of living.

Still, he knew it would kill Miranda if she returned to find him frozen so he followed her as requested.

He couldn’t pinpoint the origin of his fear and the desire to run back to the bridge but as he stood there something about the front entrance calmed him and he knew everything was going to be alright – at least for tonight.


Credits and Additional Information

Another Person’s Trash

Another Person’s Trash

“Every Wednesday Mom insists I take her to the Sally Ann after morning Bingo,” I said with a deliberate eye roll.

“You say ‘Thrift Store’ with a pejorative connotation.”

“It’s all junk and every time we go, she stops at the tables filled with odds and ends left by the dead. How many quasi-fine China teapots and cups does an 82-year-old woman need.”

“Come on Sis, you know she collects that shit. Don’t you recall summer weekends being dragged from yard to yard? All those treasures she plucked from unsuspecting sellers put us through college.”

“Hmmm… Whatcha doing Saturday?”


Credits and Additional Information