Design DNA and Chapter 4

I'm missing my crafting adventures but want to finish this story that haunts my dreams.  It has dragged on for what seems like a life time.  I'm never satisfied with the outcome...not for long anyway.  It forces me to F5 about every few months...a refresh is always good from time to time.  I walk away bored out of my mind and return with a new perspective.  

Many months ago I began contributing to Design DNA - the idea was/is 2 sisters who love to craft/DIY/party plan.  It became a way of documenting many of my/our craft projects with a huge emphasis on Halloween, posting a minimum of twice per week.  My attention span fizzled out way ahead of my creativity.  It really became a part time job keeping up as diligently as I had.  

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I'm not really a writer.  I can't spell to save my life.  I have to re read and write a sentence 10 times before it possibly makes sense. It's unfinished business for me and ten years in the making.  I'm always drawn back in...

Chapter 4

      His name was Draden.  Everything about him was intimidating, though intensely intriguing.  Women were drawn to his mesmerizing dark eyes and hypnotizing voice.  It was a deep, unforgettable tone that was permanently carved into the souls of the innocent and willing parties that crossed his path.  Draden was a shape shifter able to mimic others.  He was capable of pealing the layers of one’s soul; tapping into their weaknesses and strengths and mastered the art of manipulation.

      The callow newlywed was frightened of her hellish consort.  He had preposterous demands and inconceivable habits which Drea was unwilling to subject her or her unborn children to.  Draden paraded around the island as though he were an idolized King.  He was a man addicted to lust and immoral behavior and prayed on the virginal and the innocent who were unaware of his callus intentions.  The deceitful man was not an ordinary being and Drea was now aware.  He was an immortal creature that not only desired the virginal and innocent but also depended on their purity to exist.  What Drea was unaware of was that she was one of Draden’s many innocent victims.  He had bigger plans for his new bride.

      Draden was desperate to carry on his legacy and finding the right vessel to carry his seed had become quite the challenge.  He needed not only the purist sole, but an equal match in power.  He yearned to produce a being so strong and magical that anyone who crossed him would be rendered powerless.  Drea completely contrasted his entire being and as a consequence, Draden knew their offspring would possess the tools needed to become the ultimate warriors.

      It had become too easy for Draden to find his way into the graces of Drea’s parents, conveniently running into them each Sunday after service.  He was a very convincing mirage of faith and stability and was quickly brought to their home to meet their young daughter.  She became positively smitten with the young man.  His eyes, they were so familiar.

      Draden knew of Drea’s unique abilities long before she was aware of his intentions.  It was easy for him to casually ease his way into the child’s world.  She longed for attention, to be accepted and loved.  He had studied her for years, familiarizing himself with everything Drea.  It was imperative she trust him before he made his move.  What better way to win the child’s trust and learn her inner most desires but to present himself as a free spirited forest animal.  He became her protector, her savior and best friend.  Oscar.

      They courted for several months as her parents pushed her further and further into the arms of the charming predator.  She was blinded by the only human love she had known.  It wasn’t long however, before the blindness faded.  Those eyes she thought to be so familiar and loving had revealed their true intentions.  He was on a power-lust mission.

      Draden’s plan was to remove Drea, take the children and raise them to use their powers for evil and wickedness.  He wanted his children to become leaders and share his throne of darkness; together they would be untouchable.  To his dismay, Draden would soon realize the glitches in his ever so thought out plan.

Melatonin Dreams and Chapter 3

So before I add another chapter to the "work in progress" I'd like to share few details from my  latest melatonin induced dream.  I've had many and every time I wake up drenched with sweat I always tell myself to write the dream down. With no fail, I forget the events within 10 minutes of consciousness.  I'm telling you these dreams are movie worthy.  Steven Spielberg would die to be a part of this coma induced mastermind. 

So, what I remember of the dream, which had my heart racing in panic had something to do with amputating my legs.  I can't make any sense of why my legs had to go but it was clear to the Doctors in my hallucination that this was what would save my life.  I was naturally anxious about the circumstance but especially because the Dr argued with me that he could only do it under general anesthetic.  I protested thinking I was no professional but they even knocked me out for my wisdom teeth so why was this reading lower on the serious-surgery-meter?  The general visit to the Dr had become my personal version of one of the SAW movies and the Dr called me a "pussy" for requesting to be put under for the procedure.  Wimpy or not I didn't find it to be an absurd request.   Holy Melatonin.  I love that it allows me the sleep I can't find on my own but OMG!!  Does anyone else have similar experiences? 

Don't forget to check out the 2nd tab (up top) for the full story as I update it...

Chapter 3

      It pained Drea to have to leave her friends and walk back to the farmhouse.  She fought back the tears and the strong lump that formed in her throat.  If she could just get through the night she would be with her friends in the morning.  Drea reached the porch of the farmhouse and started up the rotting steps.  “Young lady, I was in the field today.  Who were you talking to?”  Drea’s heart began pounding at such a rapid pace it felt as if it would tear right through her tiny chest.  “Mother, you startled me.”  muttered the frightened child.

      It was no use.  Each time her parents would question who she was talking to, her honesty would land her in the attic, locked up for days with no food.  She would sob and plead time and again; promising that she was not telling lies.  She begged to be released from her room but they wouldn’t budge.  Animals don’t talk and there certainly are no such things as fairies.

      Drea would not speak to her forest friends for a very long time.  Despite several failed rescues, the child was left to fend for herself.  Her parents were not taking kindly to the wild animals on their property and rigged an arsenal of traps and torture devices.  The innocent girl had no inkling of evil; yet.  Drea’s parents were a very religious folk and had begun to believe their flesh and blood was a demonic creature which they needed to escape from as soon as possible.

      At the tender age of sixteen Drea, being the innocent and naïve adolescent that she was, had been forced into an arranged marriage by her religiously devout parents.  The chosen man was a chameleon like being.  To Drea’s parents, he appeared saintly; almost god-like.  Someone who their sinister daughter needed to be inspired by.  To Drea’s dismay, she would soon find that the angelic man, whom her parent’s praised, was nothing but darkness. 

      Not long after the marriage, Drea’s parents disappeared and were never to be seen again.  Even though Drea was treated as no child should ever have to experience from their own parents, it was what she knew.  The unfortunate abandonment drove the young girl deeper into the arms of the rabid creature she now called her husband.

      Three months later, the young woman became with child and later realized that she was carrying twin fetuses.  Not long after the marriage, it became painfully obvious to Drea that her dreams of freedom and happiness would continue to abandon her.  She had become accustomed to her Parents cold shoulder and judgment but never experienced physical pain until now.  The abuse and torture was too much to bear for the young women.  Flashbacks of her friends from the forest where the only thing holding the expectant mother together.  The only ounce of happiness she had ever known.  This feeling is what she had been searching for, for what seemed like an eternity.  To be loved.  To laugh.  To smile.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – (15-18 years prior)

      Drea was born on the east side of the island.  East Phonola’s main inhabitants were compiled of three originating bloodlines.  Intertwined over the years, the families lived an extremely simple and purist lifestyle.  Strangers rarely past through the cookie cutter village and were almost never welcomed.  The young Drea was part of the East bloodline though treated with as much respect as a drifter.   Forced to live a life of unhappiness and solitude constantly reminded her how different she was from the world.    Her parents treated her like a monster.  Unable to understand their daughter, they became terrified and negligent.  The girl was clearly cursed by the devil.

      Drea spend most of her youth in the attic of her family’s home.  She had known this to be both her safe place and prison.  She was roughly five years old when it became clear to her parents how different she really was.  Drea was often found in the yard speaking aloud; yet no one was ever seen.

      Drea’s home was located on miles of rich farm land butted against Phonola’s grand forest.  Being an only child with frigid parents, Drea was left to entertain herself.  When she wasn’t secluded to her attic prison, she was frequently found just beyond her family’s property line; never far enough to enter Phonola’s forest.

      Today was an incredibly special day for Drea.  She put on her best party dress; well the best party dress an adolescent girl with very little luxuries could wear.  Thankfully, her imagination had few limitations.  What a perfect choice for today’s event.  She stood in front of an old free standing mirror, twirling round and round admiring her beautiful costume.   

 Pink and ruffled, wavy hem, polka-dot texture with a ribbon waist.  Her auburn ringlets loosely tied back into a matching pink bow.  She skipped down the rickety steps; hand on the banister, grinning from ear to ear.  Once outside the house, she eagerly ran barefoot through the grassy, over-grown field until she came to the top of the hill.  Catching her tiny breath, she sat next to a patch of colorful wildflowers.  Turning around she glared at the farmhouse in the distance.  Thankful for the space between herself and the structure she laid on her back to stare into the sky.  Closing her eyes, she could hear various whispers.  As the wind blew, the voices gradually became louder.  She could hear the trees speaking to the leaves who whispered to the grass circulating messages to the flowers sending tingles through her tiny body.  The whispers encouraged her to continue her short journey to the forest line.  She stood, brushed off her pink dress and continued to walk through the field.

      The whispers grew louder, bouncing in every direction.  “Drea, you look beautiful!” said a voice fluttering in the distance.  “I told you she’d come!” a deeper voice equally as soft skimming the top of the field.  Drea was used to hearing everything around her but these voices were not familiar.  Increasing her pace she began skipping through the soft meadow taking in her surroundings.  She wiggled her tiny toes, spreading them apart allowing the soft cool grass to poke through.   The sweet scent and vibrant colors of newly bloomed flowers brought a warm smile to Drea’s pale face.  Even the weeds had a place in this beautiful setting, reminding Drea of the simple imperfections of life.   As little princesses do, she began to spin around, arms out, nose pointed to the sun.  This was her release and mental escape from the rickety farm house in the distance.  Here, she felt loved, not feared or alone.  Again, the whispers grew louder.  “Maybe she isn’t able to hear us. “  Sighed the soft voice.  “Well, make her see then” muttered the deep fluttering presence.  “We need to be sensitive and not frighten the child.”  Drea, dizzy from spinning stopped to steady herself.  Spheres of bright light levitated several inches from her worried face.  “What did I tell you?  Don’t you see she is afraid?”

      The child was no stranger to peculiar phenomenon, this occasion being no exception.  Fear did not explain Drea’s feelings, though curiosity summed it up quite simply.  Very interested in her new visitors, Drea stared into the fluttering lights ahead of her.  “Are you the voices I’ve been hearing?”  Drea asked inquisitively.  Immediately following Drea’s question, the glowing burned out, leaving the outline of two fluttering creatures.  Slowly, Drea stepped closer.  The smaller female creature fluttered round and round Drea’s head, causing the child to spin in circles.  “Enough!”  Declared the male voice Drea had become familiar with.  “Show yourself to me.  It’s only fair; you seem to know me already.  I’ve been hearing you talk amongst yourselves for some time now.”  Spoke Drea in a firm tone.  The masculine presence fluttered his way to Drea as she lifted her small hand.  Palm up, fingers spread, he knelt on the soft surface.  “Hahahaha, stop!  That tickles” the child reacting to the winged creature as he landed, intentionally dragging his translucent, glass like wings against Drea’s skin.  “My name is Oren, and my overly animated sister there is Lily.”  He had sandy blond hair that flipped up slightly, framing his pointy face.  Pale, crystal blue eyes gleamed back at Drea.  Lily misjudged her landing, slipping off the side of Drea’s palm, frantically gripping for her baby finger.  Pulling herself up to her feet, gathering her composure, she glared up at Drea with beautiful crystal blue eyes.  “Hi Drea, we’ve been waiting for you.”  Smiled the miniature winged creature.  “I’m pleased to meet both of you.  I’m always happy to have new friends.”  Drea looked down at her bare feet,  nervously biting her bottom lip.  Glaring up at her extended hand, the child’s eyes began to light up.  “Why have you been waiting for me?  I’ve been here for all of my life you know and have never seen  but heard your whispers.”   “We didn’t think you were ready Drea, most children are quite curious but shy away from us.” whispered Oren.  “Oren, we knew she wasn’t like most children.”  Lily declared matter-of-factly.

      Jumping off of Drea’s hand, the winged creatures fluttered their wings mid air, inches from the child’s face.  Flinching slightly, Drea remained curious as to the purpose of Lily and Oren’s visit.  “You are positively small, the both of you.  What are you?  ..I uh…I mean…why are you here?”  Drea’s cheeks turned a soft crimson while fidgeting with her hand.  Looking down she hoped she hadn’t insulted her new friends.  “It’s ok Drea.”  Lily said in a reassuring voice.  “We anticipated your questions.  We are wood pixies, from deep within the Phonola Forest.”

      She cocked her head, raising one eyebrow.  “I’ve never met a pixie before.  Hmmm…you still haven’t answered me.  Not that I’m ungrateful for meeting such interesting creatures, but why have you been waiting for me?”  “We’ve come to take you away from this place Drea.  You don’t belong here.”  Fluttering backwards, with his chest facing towards the child; Oren had the look of concern painted over his tiny surface.  “Don’t be silly Oren, I belong here just fine.  Mom and Dad and my room, they are just up the hill there.”  Pointed the child.  “We’ve said enough Oren; let’s get her on her way.”  Pushing her brother to the side, Lily fluttered to the child’s shoulder changing the subject.  “I love your dress Drea.  May we accompany you?”  “Thank you Lily.  Of course you may but we have to hurry.  I must make it back home before dark.”  Drea muttered in a saddened tone.  “Well, what are we waiting for then?” Lily exclaimed with a wide grin.  “I’ll race you Oren!”

      The trio quickened their pace, one skipping in long strides as the other two, playfully fluttered their wings in unison.  Contagious laughter filled the air as the new friends made their way to the property’s edge.

      Welcoming the threesome was an eclectic collection of stuffed animals and dolls dressed to impress.  They lined the Forest’s edge, waiting ever so patiently.  Teddy bears, baby dolls, new and old all draped in brightly colored fabrics.  “Hello everyone, thank you for joining us, I met some friends on the way.  Oren and Lily these are my best friends.”  Drea pointed to the dozen cotton filled dolls.  The fairies glanced at Drea’s plush army, awkwardly waving as not to be rude.  “Drea thank you for your hospitality. What is the special occasion that brings all of your…best friends together?”  asked Oren in a soft voice.  “Oh! It’s Oscar’s birthday.  He’s very shy but we wanted to do something special for him.”  Beamed Drea.  She ran to retrieve a small basket from behind the trunk of a large willow tree.  Quickly removing its contents she revealed a shredded quilt that at one time was most likely a beautiful piece of art.  She lifted it high in the sky several times shaking out the many wrinkles.  Flat on the ground now, she presented each of her party guests with various elements.  Rotted barn pieces became  fine china.  Large leaves, the salad bowls and chipped cups and saucers were used for tea of course.  “Lily will you help me set the table please?  Oscar should be arriving any time” Lily fluttered to Drea’s side pretending to lift the pieces that were many times her size.  “These are the dishes we will use to eat Oscar’s birthday cake!  They are the most beautiful pieces aren’t they Oren?”  Rustling noises in the bushes interrupted Oren from responding to Drea’s tiny pleas.

      Peering from the greenery stood a beautifully awkward buck.  He cautiously lowered his head sniffing wildly towards the pixie siblings.  Large almond shaped black eyes stared back at the party goers.  His muscular body was a beautiful brown suede like surface supported by four long twig like legs.  He curiously cocked his head staring at the young girl.  “Oscar!” beamed Drea.  “You’ve come too early; we are not ready for you.”  Panic was evident in Drea’s tiny voice.  The Buck stepped closer to the group sniffing wildly.  “What is this about Drea?” the animal asked while surveying the crowd.  “Well, don’t be rude Oscar.  I’ve brought my new friends to meet you.  Lily and Oren, this is Oscar” the strangers, all nodded their heads politely.  “They are here to celebrate your birthday.  I’ve even made a cake to share.”  Drea, reached for the platter from the quilt which oddly resembled her mother’s cast iron skillet.  The child struggled with both hands to pick up the heavy dish.  “Have a look” she motioned for the buck to come in close.  “Thank you Drea, this is a wonderful surprise.”  Oscar nodded at the dish, scanning the plush party animals.  “It is nice of you both to show up so unexpectedly.”  Oscar gritted his teeth, glaring at the pixies with doubting eyes.

      Hours went by.  Innocent laughter and giddy screams were heard as Oscar playfully chased the child around the field.   
Drea and Oscar fell to the ground, exhausted from running and laughing they watched the sun set in the distance.  As if a switch had been turned on, Drea jumped from the grass.  “It is nearly dark, I must go back home.”  She said in a panicked voice.  Oscar lowered his head to allow Drea’s tiny arms to wrap around him.  She released the young buck from her grip, waived to the remaining guests and made her way back to the farmhouse.

      Drea was far enough in the distance, giving Oscar the opportunity to confront Oren and Lily.  “I’ve never heard of you.  What is your business with Drea?”  He asked in a stiff tone.  “We mean her no harm Oscar.  We are her watchers.”  Said Oren squinting his eyes toward the four legged animal.  “Who sent you?  Where are you from?”  Oscar continued to interrogate the fluttering creatures.  “We understand your concern for the child.  We are residents of the Phonola Forest but that is all we can speak of.”  Whispered the male fairy. 

      Lily fluttered to Oscar’s side.  “I can assure you that we wish to keep Drea free of harm as much as you.  You have our word.  I must ask you a few questions about tonight if you don’t mind.”  Nodding his approval, Oscar anticipated her obvious questions.  “Alright.  The cake we ate, although quite delicious, it lacked something.  The cake part.”  Lily raised one eyebrow and shrugged her tiny shoulders.  “And what of the dolly firing squad?”  Lily pointed towards the party guests.  Staring at the ground, Oscar answered Lily’s many questions.  “It is not my birthday.  I am all she has so I play along with whatever it is that brings light to her face.  The truth is today is…her birthday.  She knows nothing of the joys of being a child.  No birthday celebrations.  No presents.  No hugs or guidance.  No love or acceptance.  At least not from her parents.  I am her family now and do my best to help her along the way.  She is a child so of course she has an endless imagination which clearly explains the cake she served.”  Oscar raised his head to the direction of the farmhouse in an instant.  “Something is wrong!”  The group headed for the farmhouse in the distance.

Rescue 911

My drive home from work began like any other.

Recently thankful for my new prescription sunglasses, (where have you been my entire life?) as I stared into the Arizona sunset.  That thing is no joke and 4.75 years of the 5 years I've lived here, I've squinted my way home with out thinking twice.  I'm not one to wear contacts, especially to work, so regular sunglasses have not been an option for me.  No wonder I've developed an alarming amount of crows feet in the last year or so. 

So, I'm driving home, in a daze as I watch this blue car (I'm later told is a Nissan) swerve back and forth at an accelerated pace.  First I assumed someone was being silly while steering like an idiot then it became stupid and then scary.  The car was nearly tipping over it was jerking so violently.  We all slow down (on the 101 heading south), trying to stay as far away from this maniac as we watch him slam the car into the left median.  He regains control and continues to drive as if nothing ever happened then slams himself into the right guard rail. 

I dial 911. 

I kept such distance I had no idea the make or model and certainly didn't know the license plate # but I assumed calling with the little info I had was better then nothing.  I can't even tell you the last time I dialed 911.  There was unexpected anxiety as I pressed the last 1.  They must have been busy because there was a good minute of hold music.  I panicked, rehearsing what I just witnessed over and over in my head.  It happened so fast and I didn't want to give them the wrong information.  I was thinking of the hold music I've heard while waiting for my Dr's office to answer and how they instruct you to hang up and dial 9-1-1 in an emergency.  Ha.  Who do you call when 9-1-1 has you waiting ?!! They finally answer.  I tell the dispatcher everything I know as I'm keeping my distance from the nut job.  Then I feel guilty.  Maybe they are having a seizure or heart attack?  Maybe the passenger is assaulting them? 

I find out I'm 1 of only 2 people who called on the sporadic driver.  

I watched the blue car make a last minute exit and rush off the highway as I told the call receiver all I knew. 

Wow.

Chapter 1

Here's the start of "Operation: Dissect the story and hope that people can understand it...they don't have to like it, but hope that it makes some sense"

***

Chapter 1 - (present day)

      Mickela and Eve were both brought to the world on an unexpected night.  The moon was full and the air was thick.  Drea, the twins’ mother was not due to deliver for over a month.  She had traveled to the south side of Phonola Island in hopes to raise her offspring in a peaceful and serene atmosphere.  The south side was full of splendor, peace and benevolent islanders which was an immense improvement on the living conditions she had subjected herself to.

      For reasons unknown to Drea, the air felt restless; less than inviting.  Through the years, she had embraced her sensitivities and understood the need to find immediate safety.  Something inside her led Drea to a dainty cottage located behind South Phonolas’ Chapel.  She couldn’t help but be drawn in by the cottage as intense energy radiated from the quaint sanctuary. 

      She walked slowly towards the small home; it was an abandoned eclectic building surrounded by beautiful wild flowers, and ivy which had taken over the structure throughout the years.  Drea noticed something very unique, about the cottage.  She could barely take her eyes away from the intriguing sight.  The cottage was encompassed by beautifully hand-crafted, stained glass windows.  The intricate patterns and illuminating colors appeared to be untouched over the years.  Exquisite hues of red, yellow, orange and blue surrounded the abandoned home, beckoning the young women.

      Drea entered through the stained glass door and reluctantly peered inside.  Though the room had not seen a visitor in ages, it felt accommodatingly familiar.  Her senses were attacked from every direction.  The scents battled for attention, both pleasant and stale while she surveyed the room for a comfortable resting place.  

White linens covered the furniture and cobwebs encased the fixtures.  There was work to be done if she intended to stay.  She crossed the room towards what resembled the shape of a couch.  Eager to rest she lifted the linen.  Exposed below was an exquisite daybed sofa.  The wood work white in color was hand carved in what was clearly European artistry.  The cushions evidently worn through the years were of a practical burlap material.  How odd that such a beautiful piece of furniture would be upholstered with such simple fabric.  Drea dusted the couch and opened the stained glass shutters.  Hoping for a cross breeze, she desperately wished to air out her new sanctuary.  Dismissing the dull pain in her stomach as hunger, Drea curled up on her new found resting place taking advantage of the long awaited sleep.

      Drea woke to the sound of crackling wood.  She strained to open her burning eyes.  How long had she slept?  She felt even more tired than before the nap.  Wiping the sleep from her face, she realized a blaze was roaring in the cobblestone fireplace.  It flickered at her violently, waiting for her consciousness.  Shadows dancing around the dark room, violent winds could be heard through the thin walls, threatening to darken its contents.  

Who had started the fire?  Feeling the warmth of the quilt wrapped around her, she realized she was not alone.  Drea’s nerves settled as soon as they surfaced as a calming feeling rushed over her body.  She couldn’t remember the last time she felt such comfort.

      Removing the quilt form her now warm body, Drea placed her bare feet on the cold, hard wood floor.  Steadying herself, she was able to stand.  Making her way across the room to the fireplace made for a serious challenge.  With little resources, the tired woman made a great attempt in keeping herself safe and healthy.  In the midst of trying to find her refuge, she neglected to maintain the basic needs of life; food and water.  One hand on the large mantle, the other supporting herself on the cobblestone wall, Drea stared into the roaring blaze.  She felt herself slowly slipping away.  Fighting pains of starvation and labor, she cringed as she caught a vision in the large mirror above the stone hearth.  Green almond shaped eyes which once had the sparkle of life were now outlined by deep dark circles.  Drea wore these trophies as proof of her long journey and sleepless nights.  Her once luminous pale skin, now dully accessorized by scrapes and bruises were still a beautiful contrast to her bright auburn mane.  Despite the need for a wash, Drea’s locks were unforgettable.  Perfectly pieced waves cascaded down her delicate back into a finished point.  It symbolized her fire.  Her unborn children were draining every last bit of energy and nutrition left inside her fragile body however, she was unwilling to surrender.

      An astonishingly beautiful young girl appeared amongst the shadows.  She had short copper colored hair pinned back in child-like pigtails.  Model-like bone structure framed her extraordinarily pale face and small up turned nose.  Her eyes were deep-set, an exquisite shade of green surrounded by long, seductive lashes.  When she smiled, her tiny lips framed two rows of perfectly white, slightly crooked teeth.  She was an exceptionally thin and statuesque girl, nearly six feet tall.  She stood there, smiling down at Drea.  Her name was Cole.  “Hello Drea”.  Cole said in a throaty voice.  “You know my name?”  Drea was puzzled.  “I know more than you realize Drea.” Cole cocked her head sideways, staring at Drea with a crooked smile.  “I’ve been watching over you for quite some time.  You could say I was chosen to guide and prepare you for what is to come.”

      Drea, overcome with weakness and pain, grabbed her stomach and crumbled to the hard wood floor.

Multiple Personality Disorder, Mean Girls, Dear Diary

I'm going to propose a different way of doing this.  Not to you... I'm talking to myself here trying to figure out the best format.  

I'll list everything in order as a story should read under the tab (above) "The Story...a work in progress".  Each time I edit, or add to the story, I'll also include it in a blog entry.  This way, anyone who cares, will know where I left off or what has changed. That's today's plan. 

So, I'm re reading my "work in progress" - adding, editing, removing, cringing, laughing...oh boy.  This reminds me of when I use to keep a diary as a little girl.  I actually had several bright colored, top secret journals that could only be opened with a special little key.  So I thought.  

I have never been consistent with my journaling.  I was good about filling out the first 2-3 pages before boredom settled in.  I would even change it up with different handwriting styles. As a kid, my handwriting always leaned a little more towards the right (I think the more traditional way - because I was a good kid and did what my writing teacher told me to do) but I remember the friends whose words slanted way to the left...now those girls were cool with their awesome handwriting and mile high teased bangs. I wanted to be like them so bad but my bangs were always so short...why?! 

To read my diary you'd think I was suffering from multiple personality disorder based on the 4-5 different writing styles (all caps, left slanted, right slanted, cursive, print) all in one entry.  The diaries are long gone but I can still picture my writings of secret crushes or the mean girls who sent me home crying in my pillow.  I remember a boy pushing me down on the cement as I walked home from jr. high and my Mom convincing me he must "like" me.  Hooray for the acceptance of violence I guess.  Love hurts? 

Anyway, here's the virtual diary.  Maybe no one will read this but I've heard it's a healthy way to express what's inside. 

I'm Back!

It has been too long and I'm super excited to be back!  My attention span as of late has been on the short side.  When a new project is presented to me, my excitement level is through the roof!  My blinders are on and everything else takes second stage (The Twilight series similarly had the same effect on me - Husband who?).  It's inevitable.  Boredom always sets in and I have to readjust my focus.  Good thing I always come running back!  

The past few months away have been really great for me.  I started a craft blog that allowed me to stay creative, meet fellow creative bloggers and document my adventures.  Halloween was a huge focus as I helped my sister with her annual Halloween Party.  Fun times to be had, and I can't wait till next year!!  Unfortunately, the ADD kicked in.  Again.  So, the craft blog is on freeze while my imagination army fights any sign of the writer's block war!  Wish me luck.