Writer’s Workshop: Fake Twins

Ok, Ragers. It’s late.  I have school in the morning and I am tired. However, I feel that I have not been up to par posting-wise as of late. I can’t think of an excuse other than I need to revamp my planning tactics because what I’m doing now ain’t working.

But, before I slip off to bed I thought I would join in Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop and share this little gem with you:

4.) A time you covered your tracks and avoided punishment.

When I was about 15 I met a boy name Jimmy. He was a “bad boy” but very sweet to me.

While I didn’t date, he was my “boyfriend” and when he gave me his bright ass neon orange Karl Kani hoodie I was truly smitten.

He liked to come around and show off as teenage boys are wont to do.

One day he came to my house driving an old beat up Chevy. Looking back I can’t recall if he actually had a driver’s license. He wasn’t that much older then me.

One day he proceeded to preen around the cul de sac where I lived, showing off and acting up.

One of his younger cousins decided it would be fun to perch up on the back of the car as it did slowish donuts around my circular road. He would tumble off, laugh and jump on again.

My mother came outside after hearing all the ruckus and was appalled. She used her mom voice. On Jimmy. She scolded him and sent him away. I was told I could not see him again.

My teenage heart was broken. But only temporarily. I am quite crafty on occasion and here is an example:

At school the next day I told Jimmy to come back by my house. I told him to follow my lead and just be prepared to apologize.

That afternoon I led a reluctant Jimmy to face my Mom. The following exchange is of the genius only a teenage girl under hormonal pressure could devise.

Me: “Mom, I want you to meet someone.” please let this work please let this work

Mom: “I thought I told you-”

Me: “No, wait, Mom listen. This is Robert, Jimmy’s, uh, twin brother.”

Jimmy/Robert: “Ma’am, I just want to apologize for my brother’s behavior. I can’t believe he acted so irresponsibly and I let my mother know what happened.”

Mom: “Oh, well, then ok. You two had best behave. And Robert?

Jimmy/Robert: “Ma’am?”

Mom: “I do not want that brother of yours around here, he’s trouble, I just know it.”

Jimmy/Robert: “Yes, ma’am.”

This is a true story, my hand to God. I tease my mom about it all the time now. She can’t believe she fell for such an obvious ploy.

Don’t forget to enter my GIVEAWAY!

Writer’s Workshop:Dear Teen, Love Mom

I am linking up again this week with Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop. For this week’s prompt I have chosen: A letter to your future teen.

My Darling Son,

You have grown so very fast. It seems like just yesterday I held your tiny 8.9lbs package of baby softness in my young arms and gazed into those big brown eyes for the very first time. In one heartbeat I experienced a level of love that I didn’t even know existed. The bond we developed came quick, strong and has stood the test of time.

That first year was such a scary one for us. You were sick, a lot. When you were 3 months old you had a surgery that scared the bejeezus out of me, but saved your life.

When you were a toddler I finally had to bite the bullet and get a job. I found a daycare that gave me my first job and allowed me to keep tabs on you. This was a traumatic time for us both, we had such bad separation anxiety! We sat on opposites side of a cold classroom door, crying our eyes out.

You had a few rough years of school, barely passing most years, but I knew you were smart! I studied with you every day and I’m sorry I made you redo all your school work, but by 4th grade you were pulling straight A’s and you’ve been an Honor student ever since!

To this day you are often close by my side. Always “hanging out” with me. I often joke that I must have done something wrong because I thought teenagers were supposed to be sulky, locking themselves away in their rooms and avoiding their family at all costs.

I hope this doesn’t change. I love that you welcome me into your life and share everything with me.You’ve told me your dreams and your plans to reach them, and I have vowed to help you every step of the way.

Mostly, I want to tell you how proud I am of you. I am so proud that you made it into the Honors Program. I am so proud of your priorities and how you take school so seriously. You know that as long as you do your best, I am proud of you, but you don’t use that as a crutch. You always push for more, better, higher.

And I also want to tell you, thank you. Thank you for teaching me to be a mother, for forgiving my mistakes and praising my successes.

Thank you for being you.

I love you always,

Mom

I don’t think there are words in existence that properly express the love a mother has for her children and there are an infinite number of reasons why my son is so special to me, I don’t think I could ever sum them up in a blog post, or ten.

A letter to your future teen.

Happy Birthday, Baby!

I’m in tears right now. Can you believe my sweet baby is 10 today? It seems like just yesterday they placed her tiny 7.6 pounds of sweetness in my arms. In honor of her special day, won’t you take a walk down memory lane with me? I apologize if some of the pictures are grainy, I was late joining the digital world!

Sweet Baby Girl at 1 month old

 

Sweet Girl's First Birthday!

2 years old and pretty as can be!

Pretty Princess is 3! Prettiest butterfly ever!

Lil Diva is now 4 and sassy!

Graduating preschool at 5....

This Lil Skater Girl is 6!

7 years old and already a rock star!

My Chunky Cha Cha Moo Moo is 8!

At 9 LeBella has become a Baby Blogger, know what that means?

That means you should go leave her some birthday love on HER BLOG! Did you know she had one? She hasn’t posted a whole lot yet, but she takes great pride in it. I know when she’s 100% well it will become her pet project!

I’ll be posting again later today, LeBella wants to get all prettied up and take Birthday Pictures (even though we aren’t celebrating yet lol). Also, I’ll be debuting info on my new Blog Carnival!!

 

The Red Dress Club: Confrontation

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Rashu approached the willow trees quietly. She looked like a wood nymph standing there among the weeping limbs. She let out a soft sigh and he saw her lip quiver. In her soft grey grown she nearly blended into the early morning mist, and her hands fluttered at her waist nervously.

“Emilia…” He reached out to her, longingly, but let his hand fall to his side. “Please just let me talk to you. I have to find shelter soon.” He looked towards the horizon, willing her to understand.

“What do you want from me Rashu? Why won’t you leave me be? One minute you’re attacking me in the gardens, the next you’re trying to help me with my chores. Every time I turn around I feel as if I’m tripping over you and searching for Tiago.” She looked wistfully into the distance and sighed again. He felt the warmth of her breath across his skin and he locked the sweetness of it away. A small memory for him to bask in later.

“That’s because you’re looking for the wrong Chthtonian. Don’t you know that by now? Don’t you know who we are? Sit with me, just for a little while; I want to tell you a story.”

He saw the uncertainty flash through her eyes right before she settled on the fallen log beside him. Again he tried to file away every detail his hungry senses could absorb. He noted the softness of her small hands against the gnarly tree trunk and the swish of her skirts around her ankles. The scent of her ebony hair; lavender and musk, hung around her like a halo.

“Emilia, this story starts a long time ago. Long before you met Tiago and I. This time.” He pushed on before she could pose any questions. “I know that Kitty and Tiago have told a great deal about the Chthonian. And I’m sure Tiago told you that you were my Mo Anam Cara?” He glanced sideways at her. Her wide eyes had gone even wider and her delicate mouth hung open in a most unladylike way.

She turned slowly and he braced himself for her denial. “What did you do?” she forced each word through gritted teeth, standing and towering over him like an angry hummingbird. “Tiago told me that you had a secret, that you had a secret and you would find a way to use it against him. So, that means that you did something, something that broke our bond and you’re going to try to blame it on him.” He had never seen the lavender of her eyes darken with rage and it confused him.

“You knew? You knew we were soul mates and you pushed me away? Why?” He tried to hide the hurt but it was hard, he was wearing down, it had been so long since he had just held her. His arms felt emptier than they ever had. He was losing hope and ruining any chance of getting her back.

“Let me start over, please?” She didn’t meet his gaze but tipped her delicate chin slightly and he took that as her assent. “Let’s skip the beginning and just get to where things started falling apart. It was just a couple days after the Queen had released your memories. I was over in the next town; I was guarding a young woman named DeeAnn. She is, she was, Tiago’s Mo Anam Cara.” He stopped, letting his words sink in, she stiffen beside him, but said nothing.

“She was sleeping. And,” he stopped again, overwhelmed by the guilt he still felt, even after everything Tiago had put him through. “She was sleeping and I was walking the perimeter of her cottage. Suddenly you flooded our bond with fear, terror and I panicked. I failed to trust my brothers and I acted without thinking. I left her sleeping and when I got to you, you were so upset, you kept going on about the women in green and I stayed with you until you were calm. I should have sent your Guardian to DeeAnn, or trusted him to guard you and stayed put.” He looked to see her reaction, expected her to be as disgusted as everyone else had.

“Are you telling me that your “race” is so inflexible, so uncaring, that they took away your soul mate simply because you left your post? That’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever-”

“They took her, Emilia. They took DeeAnn. Those women in green? They were the baobhan sith. They tricked me and lured me away so they could get to her. I don’t know what they wanted with her. That’s why our bond and all your memories were erased. It was because my actions caused another Chthonian to lose his Mo Anam Cara. I cause our entire race to lose her. That is why Tiago has this enormous grudge against me. He’s using you; he’s going try to hurt us. To get back at me.”

“There is no us,” she spat at him. “You’re wrong!” Her chest was heaving, her face red with anger. “He loves me!” She turned to run away but her grabbed her arm and pulled her back. Even with tears glistening in her eyes she was smirking at him. She looked pointedly at his hands on her arms and it slowly dawned on him. He didn’t feel anything other​ than the creamy smoothness of her skin.

“When Tiago touches me? I feel the blue lightening under my skin, coursing through my veins.” The blood drained from his face and his eyes darkened with understanding. Mo Anam Cara.

And with that she was gone.

*               *                 *                        *                             *

This contribution to The Red Dress Club’s Red Writing Hood meme is a scene from my WIP: The Guardians of the Chthonians: Book 1. Our prompt this week was to write a piece of dialogue. I’m going to call this one a fail because I am far to detaily to stick to dialogue. But I tried!

 

A Second Serving Repost from Gucci Mama

So, I had a witty **Disclaimer** ready to go but then I started thinking how the need for a **Disclaimer** is pretty much indicative in and of itself. I mean, as soon as you see **Disclaimer** at the top you must assume the possibility of f-bombs and what not. So rather then warn you away I will simply state: You are entering Gucci Territory.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

I’m going to tell you something because I love you and I trust you.  So don’t laugh at me and don’t go telling every fucking person you know.

I?

Sleep with a night light, but I don’t call it that.  I call it Princess Glow.  I just think that sounds nicer.

There, I said it.

But people stay alive because I sleep with Princess Glow.  It’s safer for everyone.  You might mock the Princess Glow, but I’m willing to bet that you’ve never found your own reflection staring down the barrel of Little Gucci while you command it to “freeze”.

I should back up a little, maybe.

I was pregnant with my first Mini Gucci and home alone.  At night.  In the dark.  And, in some kind of masochistic effort to scare myself clean out of my Gucci’s, I watched that ridiculous show “I Survived” which just chronicles people’s brushes with death that they were somehow able to escape.  Barely.  I know for a fact that I would not be so lucky.  If some toothless meth head deviant broke into my house to steal my virtue and my TV, I’m quite sure I’d be quick to die.  And then my idiot family would choose the assiest, ugliest, fattest picture of me they could find to plaster all the fuck over the news.  And then no one would even feel sorry for me that I was violated and brutally murdered because my picture would be so horrifying.  Because really?  What’s one less ugly person in the world?

Anyway.

All that to say that I own several firearms, one of which is my pink .45.  I’ve named her Little Gucci.  She’s a doll.  I love her.  I won’t tell you where she lives in my house because a.) I don’t want any of you freedom hating liberals yipping falsified studies at me that trick people into thinking guns in the home are more dangerous than intruders and b.) If you break into my house I don’t want you to get to Little Gucci before I do.  But she’s close to me at all times.  No, freedom hating liberals and helicopter moms, there’s no way my children can possibly get to her and they don’t know she exists.  Yet.  They’ll meet her when they’re older.

But I stray from my point.

On this particular night, all hopped up on hormones and bored on bed rest after watching a marathon of “I Survived”, I decided to call it a night.  I locked my doors, turned off my lights, and settled down into mock sleep.  I say “mock” because I was eleven thousand weeks pregnant and there’s no such damn thing as sleep when there’s an alien creature in your belly.

And then I heard the noise.  It was kind of a thump.  Maybe a shuffle.  It was clearly a toothless meth head coming to steal my virtue and my TV.  So, like any smoking hot conservative chick with a weapon and an attitude, I grabbed Little Gucci and got up to investigate.  While humming the theme from “Mission Impossible” to myself, I quietly crept down the hallway with Little Gucci at the ready.

I cleared the hallway, the linen closet, the stairwell, kitchen, and garage.  I didn’t go downstairs because downstairs at night is fucking scary.  That left the bathroom.  I opened the door slowly and peered around the corner.

Fuck me!  There was the meth head.  All I could see was a dark, shadowy figure with who was kind of round and had really long hair.  He looked to be pointing something at me.  Something that looked suspiciously like a gun.


FREEZE, MOTHERFUCKER.  THERE WILL BE NO TV OR VIRTUE FOR YOU!

No response.

My heart was trying to beat its way right out of my chest and my mouth was dry but my hands were steady.  I am not one of those women who finds being strangled to death with her own pantyhose morally superior to shooting the fuck out of a rapist.

I SAID FREEZE.  ER, WAIT!  GET THE FUCK ON THE GROUND, ASSHOLE!


Still nothing.

My fear was melting away to be replaced by pretty significant pissiness that this asshole wouldn’t do as he was told.  Did he not see that I was a pregnant lady with a gun?  Would you fuck with an armed pregnant lady?

I decided to turn on the light so he could see Little Gucci was real, sure that she would make him quake in fear.  When I saw the “intruder” I was slightly, um, mortified.  The round meth head with really long hair bent on taking my virtue and my TV was, um, well…

You know.  Me.  In the mirror.

I don’t watch television anymore.

–
Gucci Mama
www.mamastillwearsgucci.com