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Posts Tagged ‘Memories’

I have been looking forward to this weekend. My anticipation growing with every day as it gets just a little bit closer. Holidays have always meant a lot to me. Time to be with my family and all of those who I care about. Our busy schedules put aside as we are reminded of what is important in our lives. The ideas of why the holidays are there may not ring as true for me because of my beliefs but the idea of being with those you love elevates them to a special occasion for me. This is even more so the truth this year as I have some very special people back in my life. A woman who I love more than anything in the world and a little man who I want to help create some wonderful memories with.

When children are involved holidays mean so much more. Just the prospect of the special occasion has me reminiscing about my childhood and all of the good memories that I have. I was always so blessed to have a mother and father who cared about us kids deeply and always gave us everything they possibly could. I remember searching for easter eggs and trying to find my hidden basket. I remember that we always had far more than we probably deserved. Looking back we did not know how great we truly had it. Now I want to bring some of that joy into another child’s life. I want to pass on some of the memories that were given to me and hope that he can experience some of the same things. I am looking forward to coloring eggs with Christina and him. Looking forward to Sunday morning and laughter and taking in the moment.

There is so much in my past that I neglected. It really makes you see what counts when the dust of the day is washed away. There are some things in our lives that when we wake up in the morning will hold no meaning, they are just something we have to go through in life. Then there are some things that hold more importance than we can ever fully appreciate. If we can tell which is which, we will be ahead of the game. Each day I think this is becoming more and more clear.

May all of you have a wonderful Easter. I hope that no matter what you are surrounded with friends and family. Make sure that those you love know just how much they mean to you.

ūüôā Dan

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My mind is a machine that is never at rest. It rarely stops moving or flashing from thought to thought, memory to memory. For the most part this is not a good thing. There are times though when this can be used to my advantage if I am able to focus those thoughts in a certain direction. Nanowrimo has given me that oppurtunity and it really is amazing how quickly things can change.

I know this is only day number 5 but I have already noticed a few things. Once I started to think of a story to write it seemed that all of my free time is spent thinking of where I am headed and working out different possibilities. Usually I am filled with depressing thoughts and so many “what ifs” and “Could have done betters” that I want to scream and pull my hear out. It is the nature of my mind. Having something positive to focus on is a wonderful relief. The empty moments are filled with somthing constructive now. When I think of these things I just feel better that I am trying to accomplish something and not just dwelling on things that I can no longer change. These thoughts are centered more on a future that I am still building and creating, even if it is only in a fictional world.

Granted, I realize that I don’t even know if what I am writing is any good, to be honest I don’t really care. I just want to keep working on it, and I desperately hope that I can maintain this even after nanowrimo is done. Nano may have been the catalyst that started me on writing again, I need to take the initiative though to keep fueling the fire that is my creativity. So many times I let an obsession and new task take me, only to let it sit on the back burner a few weeks down the road. I cannot do that any longer. I have to stick with something and see it through. This task brings me peace and it keeps one of the last dreams I have alive. the dream of one day finishing a novel.

Here’s hoping I can see it through.

Dan

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I have very few close friends in my life. They can be counted on one hand with a few free fingers to spare. My life has always been this way, I don’t know why it is this way but it is and as the years tick away it seems like it is going to stay that way. Some of the friendships I had became more difficult following my divorce as the friends I had made came with the package. We have not hung out or done anything in a long time, mainly since the split. Much of this is because of the feelings that are brought up when I see them. I know this is silly but my mind only needs a small catalyst to drag me into a dark place.

Tonight though we got together and were able to spend a nice evening together. George and I chatted and hung out for a bit then we all had dinner together which was nice and more then a little humorous. I miss moments like this. Camaraderie. Just being with others and letting go and having fun. I have not laughed so much in a long time or made others laugh as much either. We had a great dinner and then George and I brainstormed and talked about our NaNoWriMo stories. It was nice just to discuss things and talk about where I thought my story was headed. We are two very different styled writers. George is the plotter and storyliner. I usually just get an idea and set a stage and plow ahead from there without looking back. It is fun to compare. We both also were able to get some writing done which was a plus. It was a great night overall.

There are a few things that I realized tonight. I have few friends and I need to stay in contact with the ones I do have. Secondly I can’t let the past always get in the way of living my life and enjoying the things I do have right now. There are always going to be rough memories and that is something I cannot escape, but I do have some people to talk to and many of them know where I am coming from. This couple is among those people.

We agreed to get together a few more times during this month to work on nanowrimo and just hang out.  I am looking forward to it.

By the way, Nano update I surpassed the halfway mark of the goal of 50,000 words. This is a pretty good feat considering it is only day number 4. The story is coming along nicely as well.

Good Night

Dan

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The old wooden door creaked on its rusted hinges as the man leaned his weight into it and pushed it open. It swung into the small cottage revealing the flickering light of flame to the night. The man paused before stepping over the threshold and thought of calling out to anyone present but words failed his tongue and he could not speak. Slowly he stepped into the oasis in the woods leaving the darkness of the night behind him. The feeling of dread of the unknown demon also diminished as if the cottage was a shield against all those that could harm him.

He took a few more steps into the building and took his first real look around. It was a one room affair. In one corner there was a smaller bed, nothing more than¬†a cot upon a worn wooden frame. It looked well worn¬†and sleeped¬†in, sagging in the middle fighting against gravity’s pull. In another corner there was a small table and a single worn wooden chair. Utilitarian would be the best definition of the furniture in this place, everything served a purpose, its beauty meaning very little. The table was empty except for a single place setting. It was an odd site considering the cottage was empty yet there was a plate, knife, fork and spoon, neatly arranged with a wooden mug resting near by. The plate was empty, its clean white set off against the dark worn wood of the table. It reminded him of the moon set in the black sky above him. He stood there staring at the table for a moment wondering what would have some one leave so abruptly after preparing to eat.

His mind wandered some more as he gazed to the corner that held a few small shelves and what could be called the kitchen, nothing more than a cabinet with a basin atop its counter and a small cast iron wood stove. The black stove was cold, no sign of being used recently, its pot belly however was full of ashes and other signs of past use. The man ran his fingers along the objects in the cottage trying to get a feel for the place. It had all the signs of life without any life presently in it. The only evidence of recent occupation was the fire that was burning in the stone fireplace in the middle of one of the stone walls. It crackled and popped, its embers glowing white hot. It had been burning for a while but was well stoke for the warmth that it gave the cottage.  A warmth that the man bathed in, letting the chill of the woods evaporate from his frame. He gazed into the fire mesmerized by the dancing flames. 

Something caught his attention. There was something in the fire. It looked like a piece of paper, no a picture. Its edges were curling and melting from the heat¬†with in. The image was hard to make out but it was clearly a¬†photograph of people, a¬†portrait. A family, smiles upon their faces. Loving and all close together with their arms upon each other. The man’s memory pained him as he tried to remember.¬†The thoughts were so close to his awareness but¬†so very far from being clear. He felt he should¬†know this scene. He felt it should be in his past that was now¬†nowhere in his memories. He did not know why but a tear came to his cheek. A single hot tear that slid down his dirtied face until it came to rest hanging from his chin.¬†Soon another joined and then another. The tears began to come rapidly. Burning in his eyes. He could feel the pain surging through his heart, the pain of memories lost and a life lived that could not be recalled.

The fire consumed what was left of the photograph and the tears stopped, the memories lost were gone and the pain began to fade back into the existence that was not his presently. The man stepped towards the hearth of the fireplace and picked up a small mirror that sat in a wooden frame and looked into its reflective surface. The image shocked him. He recognized the icy eyes staring back at him, but the face. The face was so different from the image he had of himself. The face was dirty, weathered and showed the effects of age and a hard life. He raised his free hand and touched his jaw, ensuring that what he was seeing was himself. Himself but from what time, what part of life. The old man staring back mimicked his actions and touch his hand to his jaw. The mirror crashed from his hands upon the floor and shattered into a hundred little pieces, its wooden frame cracked. Panic began to set in. Why could he not remember, who was he and why was he here. He had to get out, he had to run again but his body would not let him. He was a prisoner inside his own flesh. He screamed a silent scream that only his soul could hear.

The cottage door slammed shut rattling in its frame. and the fire quickly died as if it had never burned at all. The cottage sat dark in the quiet forest. Returned to its slumbering existence. An oasis in the night for the lost travellers of the woods. An end to the journey.

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The light was faint and far in the distance. It was a dull in comparison to the silvery moon high above. It called to the man, consuming all other desires or feelings. It was the only thing that was left in his world everything else faded into the periphery. He forced his aching body to move and his legs obeyed the command that his nerves shouted out. Each step was labor, pained, but the idea of finding any answers or help numbed out the sensations that would have crippled any other but the strongest of men. Each step brought him just a bit closer and hopefully further from the ominous terror that was still behind him. The fear of the unknown demon that prowled the woods still had all of his hairs pricked with tension. The electric pulse of anxiety raced his heart and gave his fingers a shaking twitch that would have made any manual action all but impossible, but he did not need that ability right now. He just needed his legs to continue to carry him.

His hobbled gait began to close the distance over the dreary terrain. The light began to grow and become more real. The man was relieved that it was not an illusion that had tricked his mind. It had to be real now that it was growing closer and more present. He still c ould not fully trust his mind though until he was standing in front of what caused the illumination. Tricks could easily be played on him with his senses in such array. Even so he let hope sink into his thoughts and begin to ease the sense of dread. Hope fueled his need to continue and soon he was rewarded with a scent that was bliss to his nose. It was the sharp yet sweet smell of a wood fire. The smoke began to lightly scent the air and soon became more present. The man breathed deeply, the smell reminding him of a past, a childhood that should hold so many more memories than it did. He searched his thoughts trying to find the memories that were trying to immerge from the haze but they would not come just out of reach. He could not clearly remember anything but his trek along the woods. Instantly the fear returned. Instantly the paranoia consumed him. Instantly the demon of the wood was at his back, its hands outstretched until he felt the touch of cold fingers upon his shoulder.

His mind snapped and he ran screaming the rest of the way until reaching the relative safety of the light. He rested his hands on his knees, hunched over catching his breath. After a moment he stood up and looked at what the light revealed. A small stone cottage with a thatched roof stood before him. Wood smoke wafting from its stone chimney. Faint light spilled from the only window he could see and the door that stood barely adjar. A sliver of light cut through the night from its opening. Calling to him Inviting him inside. He stepped forward, answering its call.

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