30DOT:Day 5



Laying next to the little girl, she listens to the even breathing. The baby’s face is buried underneath a dingy, pink, heart-covered blanket but she’s not worried. The blanket is thin. The baby has had it since she was two. Her favorite thing since her black monkey was taken from her, swept back into the darkness. The woman imagines the stuffed monkey hanging in the thick darkness of that dungeon from a noose made from strands of string. The thought makes her shiver.

The little girl rarely speaks of that monkey. Sometimes she will grow a little sad when she sees pictures of her and it, images from the past that her young mind does not fully grasp, yet the pictures jog something familiar, as does the dull ache in her heart. But she is content with her heart blanket. It has brought her much comfort over the years. It has dried many of her tears, has made her feel safe when she started kindergarten with a new teacher and all new friends, it helped her to relax through the long drive out of town when she and her family went to a magical place where they saw animals of all sorts. She loves her blanket. It is her favorite thing.

The woman used to think often about asking for the monkey back, calling and asking for an official to accompany her back to the Land of Darkness and wait for her while she battled the dangerous demons that dwell within while she rescues the first precious object her small child ever loved. But the thought of being back in that land terrifies her. She fears that even a brief moment inside will infect her and trap her like she was trapped so many years before.

She has searched high and low for the same monkey, it was just an inexpensive thing from an inexpensive store, but it has been irreplaceable. She wonders if it hurts her little girl’s heart to not have it in her life. It hurts the woman’s heart to think it might. But her fear of the darkness makes her want to forget the monkey.

The blanket came into the Little Girl’s life at exactly the right moment. A moment when she needed the most comfort, when she needed something material, when she needed something consistent. It has seen her through fevers, long car rides, a tooth removal, the first day of kindergarten, scary things for such a small person.

The woman thinks of that monkey often and hopes and prays that it faired better than she did in the Land of Darkness. She prays that it wasn’t tortured like she was, that it wasn’t bruised, maimed, broken, beaten and scarred.

She thinks of that monkey and prays that one day it will be able to escape just as she and her soldiers did. She prays that it will be strong just as she and her soldiers did. She prays that if that monkey has any consciousness that it will remember the Little Girl and somehow find it’s way back to her.

But mostly the woman hopes the demon had mercy on the monkey and cast it out of the Land of Darkness for being a lost soul out in the world would be better than being a condemned one in that evil place.


30DOT: Day 2




The Army

Once upon a time I brought three tiny humans into a world I could not protect them from. Knowing that I was already imprisoned in that castle’s highest tower, locked far away from light, from hope, from salvation, I still welcomed this army onto the battlefield with open arms.  I told myself they would be my salvation. I told myself their presence would be the key to ultimate freedom.

But my defenses were slowly destroyed. The drawbridge failed to close us off from harm. I tried my best to equip them with the best armor I could build them from what I could find. I tried to equip them with the proper weapons with which to fight. We fought so bravely when we should not have had to fight at all. Our love for each other lit the treacherous path long after the embers from the raging fires had died down. We fought to keep our flickering flames from snuffing out.

We lost nearly every battle we fought but came out victorious in the war. We could’ve hung our heads in defeat and submitted to the darkness, but we took such care to nurture those precious flames. Tiny adults thrown onto the battlefield much too soon, their armor is chipped and cracked much like my own, yet they still wear it so proudly.

My tiny soldiers gave me strength.

They gave me hope.

Fighters, they are.

Fighters, we all are.



30 Days of Thankfulness (30DOT)- Day One


For #NanoPoblamo I decided to do thirty days of Thankfulness. Being thankful for everything in my life, especially the small things, is something I often forget to do. I tried to write this post earlier and I had thought I was going to start with “Freedom” but there is so much that goes along with my freedom. It’s a bit of a depressing story and I really didn’t want to start NanoPoblano off that way.

I decided instead to find something each day to be thankful for and kind of write it as it happens. I read somewhere once that once you start looking for things to be thankful for, you will realize how very much you really have to be thankful for and that’s what I’m hoping will happen over these next thirty days.

I’m also thinking I may write things a bit abstractly so I’m sorry if it doesn’t make much sense.

Angel (My Mister)

The darkness, so thick and crushing, it enveloped me but not like a blanket of warmth. A walking corpse, the living dead, existing without living.

A war raging inside me. Every day new casulities- self-esteem went first followed by the ability to love. Self-control and the right to think for myself were killed off next. Waiting for the moment when everything would stop hurting, but I had already died long ago. All I had left to do was wait for my body to rot.

New bruises every day, the only signs of the warzone that was my home. A body once so beautiful now appearing to decay. Broken bones and dreams crushed, I gave up wishing on shooting stars. My heart turned black and crumbled, it beat slower and slower every day.

The day that I died, I don’t remember it. I can’t remember what I was wearing, where I was- at home, at work, the store? The only three places I ever went, I died in one of those spots. Maybe while I lay in bed, eyes open and staring at horrors that only I could see. Or was it in a classroom, surrounded by joyous, screaming toddlers while I watched them play, envious of their carefree spirits and lack of emotional burdens. After that first time, every night I died once more, only to be reborn the next day into the same nightmare. I would have even welcomed an eternity in Hell. Anything would have been better than what life dealt me.

And then there He was.

An angel come to show me the way. A gift from the Heavens for having endured without complaint. An unexpected answer to my prayers. His touch was so tender, so loving, like running your fingers through cotton. His soul shone so brightly and I found my way out of the darkness. His kisses evaporated my tears and healed every cut, bruise and broken bone. I discovered myself in his love, I saw a woman of strength and determination. Time and time again I was shown that I am good, that unconditional love was meant for me. I found safety and a sense of belonging in his arms. I found a reason to go on.

The war ended, I claimed victory against my demons, I boarded up the past and stepped into the light. The darkness is always there, threatening to creep in from the borders, but during these times, his light burns even brighter, chasing away the shadows and all of the horrors that dwell within it.