Careful What You Wish For

Olympic Games, 1896; the athlete Herman Weingartner, horizontal bar champion. Public domain photo by Albert Meyer.

Olympic Games, 1896; the athlete Herman Weingartner, horizontal bar champion. Public domain photo by Albert Meyer.

Raw digits cling for dear life, pain penetrating to the bone. Muscles flex, sinews burn under acid soaked flesh. This isn’t what I pictured as a boy, staring out the window at night wishing upon a star that I would someday journey to space. I never in a million years could have imagined this path in my journey.

I shift my weight, careful not to lose my grip on the bar, my only savior from the pit below. I watch as my captors take notes. Test of human will or strength I’m assuming. I fear I may fail this one.

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This is in response to Warmup Wednesday! Special Challenge: Include a lifelong dream that isn’t the Olympics.

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Ambition (Ya-Du)

This is my first attempt at a Ya-Du, an ancient Burmese poetic form. I had never heard of it before until I was challenged over at mindlovemiserysmenagerie.

This was a real challenge for me. I had many failed tries but I think I finally accomplished it.

Here are the guidelines for a Ya-Du:

1.  Lines 1, 2, 3, and 4 have four syllables;
2.  Line 5 has 5, 7, 9, or 11 syllables;
3.  Lines 4 and 5 have end rhyme;
4.  Lines 1, 2, and 3 have climbing rhyme in syllables 4, 3, and 2;
5.  Lines 3, 4, and 5 have climbing rhyme in syllables 4, 3, and 2;
6.  There should be a reference to the seasons or nature.

Here is my poem (I color coded the rhyming scheme.)

The limit, sky
Dreams will fly, reach
Don’t cry, breach walls
And each day wake
With new ambition, your life’s at stake

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This is in response to B&P’s Shadorma & Beyond.

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After reading the rules again I realize that I messed up the rhyming scheme. Lines 3,4, and 5 are supposed to have climbing rhyme…not 2,3, and 4. Fail. Oh well. I will post this anyway because I worked so hard and I like this poem.

Presence in the Night- Flash Fiction

I didn’t know who he was, but he was definitely not my husband. As I stared, not sure if I was seeing correctly, my vision blurred from heavy slumber, the dark shape moved towards me. I reached over to the right side of the bed only to find it vacant, cold. My heart kept time violently within my tightened chest.

“Who are you?” I managed to cough out.

The dark shape said nothing as it moved closer to me, a mere fleshy statue frozen in fear. My children were in the next room. My racing thoughts flashed pictures of their lifeless bodies on the floor, helpless babes against such a large person. I have to get to them. My eyes veered past the giant-like figure. There was no escaping.

As he drew closer the street lamp outside my window, the only thing lending light to the room, began to dim. A chill ran across my skin causing my hair to rise and pull at their follicles, almost like they were trying to escape my body, to save themselves from was about to happen. There was not a sound to be heard, not even his footsteps. I tried to scream but to no avail. My vocal chords went limp like the loosened strings of a violin, allowing no shrill sound to alert the neighbors. I forced myself to look the intruder straight in the face as he stood at my bedside. The sheer darkness settled in the room masking him from my view. All that was left was a strong presence. The only words I can use to describe it, PURE EVIL. It was as though I was feeling every horrible thing all at once. Deep sadness, hot anger, hopelessness, dread, fear. The sheer hopelessness alone was enough to beg for death. The fear began to suffocate me. As I struggled to breathe, throat tightening all on its own, I prayed. Please God, save my children.

My head began to buzz at the lack of oxygen. The end was surely near now. The buzzing became louder, deafening. I closed my eyes. I could feel a heaviness hovering right above my face.

“Wake up,” a deep voice rasped.

My fear was overwhelming.

“WAKE UP!” This time it was the familiar voice of my husband.

My eyes shot open to see his concerned face just above mine, his hands griping my arms so tight they ached. An agonized groan escaped my lips turning into uncontrollable sobs as he wrapped me in his warm embrace.

“It’s OK. It was just a dream.” But it hadn’t felt like it. Lingering, heavy dread saturated the room. The being’s presence was still there. I continued to sob, choking on my tears and gasping for breath.

“Shhhh. Amazing Grace how sweet the sound…. I once was lost but now I’m found…” my husband sang softly. My body began to calm as the lyrics blanketed me in ever-growing peace.

“It was just a dream,” I breathed, “just a dream.”

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This was the first of two entries for FINISH THAT THOUGHT #2-44. I was double inspired by last weeks prompt. My story didn’t place but the judge did have some good things to say about it.

Presence in the Night – realmommaramblings – And here’s another of the brilliantly creepy stories this week. Reading this, I struggled to breathe, feeling that familiar suffocation of a semi-dream state. You know the dream. The one where you’re paralyzed and a shadow is hovering over you, your chest won’t expand to bring in oxygen, and then you’re falling and the ground is coming up fast and then…you’re awake. Only the vision clings to your mind, leaving you to check the closets and under beds. Nicely done. ” —Foy S. Iver

Dreams

I had one of my dreams last night. I haven’t had one of these in a long time, maybe six months or more. I had almost forgotten about them.

For years I’ve been plagued with these awful dreams. What makes them truly awful is that, most of the time, in my dream it’s not awful. In my dream I am enjoying what I am doing even though in real life I would never do such things. I would never have those feelings. I would never act in that way. When I wake, one of two things happens.

1. I wake up feeling absolutely disgusted at what I just did. Even though it was “just a dream” I still feel dirty, like it was still something that I chose to do. I have feelings of guilt and shame and I dwell on them. Constantly repenting.

or

2. I wake up as if nothing bad had happened. As if the dream was real and ok. I still have lingering “good” feelings. Then, after a few minutes in reality, I realize what I’m thinking and feeling and remember my dream in vivid color and am sick to my stomach. Then, I not only feel dirty for having the dream, I feel shame for still feeling “good” after waking. Even though those are still not my real feelings. Again, the guilt and shame consume me and I repent over and over.

Today I woke up disgusted. This time, in my dream, I knew what I was doing was wrong but I was enticed…and I wanted to continue.

I hate these dreams. I hate having to focus so hard on forgetting them. I hate that they keep coming. They may not be frequent, but they don’t have to be. They continue to haunt me. They make me wonder why I dream these things. I know why, deep down. It is evil. The devil uses my slumber as a doorway in. I am constantly pushing him out during the day. Constantly fighting the things he tries to fill me head with…all lies. But when I’m sleeping, my defenses are down. I forget to pray over my sleep sometimes and when I do, he attacks.

I feel defeated.

But I am not. I know God is there.

I know the truth.

I cling to His truth for dear life.

Secret Room

Last night I had a dream.

I was cleaning my house, it wasn’t the house I have in real life, and I stumbled upon an office that we had somehow forgotten we had. It was almost like it had magically appeared.

It was a very nice sized room, large and fully furnished. The room was quiet and “off the beaten path” of the rest of the house. It had carpet, a couch, tv, computer, and desk. Upon entering the room I also saw that it had a bathroom. It was like my own little oasis. A perfect place to take a few “mommy moments”.

I closed the door to keep it hidden. Later when my husband was home I told him about it and he said “Oh yeah. I forgot about that room.” How did we forget about such a wonderful place in our own home? All those times I needed a break. A little escape. Some bathroom time with out an audience, and I had a secret place the whole time and never knew it.

But sadly, it was all a dream.