kristy writes

Hello everyone, I have missed many of you while trudging down some other roads.  I’m trying my hand at short stories, they are in parts so you don’t have to read it all in one sitting.  My first one is simply called “Ralph and Lona”  I think it’s good but it is my first story ever.

I was writing about depression and it was okay for a short time, then I just stopped getting comments.  I suffer from depression, sometimes fighting with it for long periods of time so I know how to help others suffering the same fate.  That was my goal but it didn’t work out.  

If you remember me check out my new site “creativewritingbykristy.com”  let me know what you think of my first short story.

 

Thanks, love you all, bloggers, readers, friends.

Fact or Fiction, A young girl on a journey alone in 1970

There was a young girl who couldn’t get along with her parents.  The kids were great (sister and brothers) they would get the news after she was gone.

One day this young girl “PJ”, decided to leave with no money,  just the clothes on her back.  She had heard an old woman on the radio say “If you want to get somewhere put one foot in front of the other until you arrive, you will get where you are going”.  I guess PJ took it literally because she left putting one foot in front of the other.

PJ’s goal was Florida because it is like a mountain I can not climb, she thought.  Actually PJ didn’t care what happened but she knew something different was going to happen.

Florida seemed like it was an exotic place to PJ.  Someplace she’d never get to go but anyway she had to go now or she would never go.  She imagined the happiness she would feel if she reached Florida.

She was young 16 with long blonde-strawberry hair, which was wavy and hazel eyes.  She had freckles and an innocent look, was slim and just generally fit.  “Could she do it”, she thought.  She admitted to herself she didn’t know but was too far to turn back now.

In Maryland she was picked up by a truck driver who was going to Georgia.  It was about 1970 0r 1971 and PJ had heard of predators but wasn’t sure what they were except they hurt girls.  PJ knew she was taking chances, but it was worth it to get away.

Where she ended up with the truck driver Tom, was on a dark, desolute road quiet except for the sounds of animals.  She was asleep on the sleeper in the 18 wheeler and he tried to crawl back there with her.  PJ hastily climbed to the front seat fearing the worst.

Tom said “It’s me or the road baby”, she couldn’t believe her choices and she said  proudly “I’ll take the road”.  She thought he would stop her and when he didn’t (before she shut the door), she asked “How far to the next town”? He said (pointing) ” 40 miles this way, and I don’t know how far the other way”.

She knew it was a lie, he had to know where the last town was behind him.  PJ slammed the door and watched the truck drive away into the night not knowing what to do if it stopped.

She looked around at the blackness, a quarter moon, and a lot of scary sounds, (animals calling out to each other.  She stood still a minute, then walked in the opposite direction of the truck for about 40 minutes before a car came but it passed her by.

A few minutes later a white ford truck came by and stopped.  Oh God help me,  get in or not get in.  She asked if he was going into town and he said yes.  PJ jumped in shaking from the cold and fear.  He said “First I have to pick up my work boots”  Fear seared through PJ but she was in for the ride and prayed to an unknown God that would save her.

The man turned down a dirt road to get the work books.  PJ held onto the handle of the door thinking if he touches me I’m jumping out.  The man saw her fear and said “Don’t worry, I would never hurt you.  He got out of the truck and came back with boots and tools.  PJ let out a breath of relief.  They drove 15 minutes to town and he pulled into a restaurant.

 

He handed me $20.00, told me to get something to eat and get a room and rest.  That was all she thought?  PJ was so grateful she  wanted to hug him but she didn’t.  She graciously thanked him, he said “Be careful”.  She exited the car

.

She had breakfast and rented a room for $8.00 and later that day she continued her journey.

The Gift of Giving

By Andy Oldham not by kristy I hit the wrong button and it comes out like I wrote it, I didn’t, this is by my new friend Andy Oldham. He is a marvelous storyteller.marvelous storyteller. You must read some others,

Together, we saved a life

My friend Kathy, also an RN, and I were returning from working out at Kirkwood Fitness Club in Wilmington, Delaware when we stopped at Office Depot to pick up some desk supplies. We had just arrived at the store when a voice came over the loud speaker asking if a doctor was in the store please come to Cashier 6 or whatever number it was.

We both looked at each other and said “heart attack”, and we ran to the appropiate cashier. There in front of us was a choking infant maybe six months old and she had turned blue from lack of oxygen. I picked up the baby inverting her but holding her tightly as Kathy used her finger to sweep the cookie out of her mouth and throat.

The baby immediately began to cry, Kathy and I looked at each other with relief on our faces. It worked just like it’s supposed to. I handed the baby back to Mom who was grateful and we told her no more cookies today. We also suggested breaking them into small pieces before giving to infant next time.

We explained to her what we had done to clear the throat of any debris that might be there if this were to ever happen again. She smiled as did the cashier who said that was “amazing”. Delighted we were immediately successful we smiled too and went back to our shopping talking about it.

For my friend Sarah

Dear Sarah,

Remember the post I wrote on Traveling through the pain to peace called “The rejection”? Your post today with the song and dance (not familiar with who she is) was fabulous. I read every word and listened to the song to the end. That was how I felt after driving 3000 miles to live with this man off campus. Remember (“The rejection”), I get there and he’s changed his mind. I say “Are you seeing someone”? He say’s “no”, and I say” So what?, what is it?”. He sits there rubbing his chin. “You could have told me this before I drove 3000 miles!”. Now people in the restaurant are looking at us and I’m tired as hell, I’m visiting devastation, and now he simply puts his hand over mine. I pull away and say, ” I want an answer now”, or something close to that. The people in the restaurant are quiet pretending not to look but listening intently. They want to see how this turns out.

I’m getting more angry and tears start streaming down my face, he say’s “I’m sorry babe”, “I just don’t want to be committed to anyone right now” I couldn’t believe my ears, “and you couldn’t tell me this on the phone”? “You mean person, I said, “so what am I supposed to do now, take a nap and go back home”? “Well, I’m not doing it”, “I can’t” and the tears came again. “No, no Linda”, he said, “I have a place you can stay until you decide what you want to do”, he quietly said this, no touching now. I said “So it’s Linda now huh?, you mean person”, I said, “I love you, I thought you loved me”, “I do”, he said “it’s just that my career is going in a good direction and I don’t want any distractions”. Finally an explanation and hope, he does still love me.

It was a false hope, I’d go on campus to see him, and he’d be like “what are you doing here”? It seemed he hurt me more each time I saw him. My favorite songs were REO Speedwagon, I don’t have it anymore but it was a top hit something like “if you been messing around on me”. I would be riding down the highway singing those songs in my 1990 mustang (red of course), music blaring to wipe out the pain and of course it’s the same as drinking your cares away except you can pull yourself together when you get to work.

It wasn’t until his friend said to me “You talk about him like your married, and your not even his girlfriend”! That hit me like a ton of bricks, and I had to admit it was true. He said “Linda he doesn’t care about you or anyone else, he cares about Kevin”. I started to cry and began to sob as he took me in his arms. We were in my car in front of my motel room. He said “Come on, let’s go inside and talk” I was so beaten down at this point I didn’t care about Linda anymore. I was worthless, stupid, what about that funny feeling you had in the pit of your stomach when you left?, why didn’t you listen to it? I didn’t listen because it was too late, I had no job here now, my job was waiting for me in Washington. It was a done deal.

When we got in the motel room you know what happened, I really just wanted to be held but I didn’t bother to stop his advances. What’s the point, I just want to be loved right now anyway I can get it. When it was over the thoughts ran through my head again, worthless and stupid, stupid, I asked him to leave and I didn’t go to work for 2 days. I hated the job too. It was during those 2 days I realized I was starting over in Seattle.

So see we’re similar in our stories, were you born in July? Lol, we all grieve a little differently but I had to find me all over again and decide what I had learned. I learned to listen to the still small voice saying wait a minute, something’s not right. I didn’t have a relationship with Jesus then, I believed in God of course but my journey with God started here, realizing God was speaking to me, warning me but I liked the fairy tale better. For once I don’t even have advise except trust the process. Your on that journey Sarah, reach out to the God that made you and be quiet and see if anything comes back that you didn’t purposely think of. That’s probably God.

I read all your posts girl, and I’m going to be here when you break through to the other side. If I did, you will too. I love you, take care.

Everyone seems to be depressed!

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I don’t know what I see in this picture but it is interesting. Actually it’s pretty dark, perfect for this post.  Yeah, she probably just got off work and is looking for Christmas cards.  I check my mail about once a week because it’s so hot I don’t like to go out until it starts to cool off.  I find myself to be a little disorganized right now.  For several days all I did was work on building my website.  I haven’t heard a peep from anyone about it so they must not know about it duh?  It’s http://travelingthroughthepaintopeace.com/about  Yeah, a lot of people get depressed around the holidays for various different reasons.

When I was growing up I remember having maybe 2-3 Christmas tree’s which made me not care one way or another if I have one unless children are around.  By the time my mother was gone, she couldn’t provide for us in 1959 by herself so she had to give us up.  We all went into separate foster homes and that there was devastating for all of us.  We lost everything we had ever known.  We were in foster homes for 2 years or so.  My father had remarried so we came home one at a time until all 3 of us were “home,” whatever that was going to be.  I was the oldest, then Billy and Kim.  We were almost 2 years apart, and along came Wayne in 1961.

My mother had gotten pregnant by her new boyfriend but that didn’t work out for them, he left I assume and Mom went on to build another family having 3 more children and lived in Illinois.  I remember getting a Disney watch of some kind on a birthday and eleven 1$ bills on my 11th birthday.  I immediately started giving everyone a dollar or two but my father made them give it back it was “my” money, he said.

My grandmother would spend the entire year making us things and buying us underwear, socks and books.  She also gave us girls new oxfords every year while everyone else was wearing these penny loafers.  We had just managed to destroy the old one’s and here came new ones.  We hated them.  Yeah, if it hadn’t been for Grandma, we would never have gotten anything.  My Dad never bought me anything my whole life, well except a bottle of alcohol or carton of cigarettes which he could pick up at the liquor store on one of his regular runs.

I better slow down, don’t want to feed you too much at once because it is overwhelming to hear at this time of year.  Most of my money goes to the supermarket because I have to have food in the house. That’s one great thing about being grown up, I don’t go hungry much.  You save your money, I try to but first I have to get the food, roof and electricity; they are all equally important.  I will get depressed close to Christmas day when everyone is opening gifts, that’s a trigger for me.

I’m not depressed yet, still writing a lot just don’t know the sequence of stories to tell.  True stories.  I have a good relationship with my Mom today, she’s like my best friend.  I can tell her anything I’ve already told her too much.  The greatest gift she could ever give me would be to forgive herself for leaving us.  She came back for us when I was 11+, but she didn’t have the support she needed to prove child abuse and then her sister kicked us all out.  She had to give up I guess, she needed help that she couldn’t get.  We did spend a couple weeks with her.  I was angry at her for giving up and I had hell to pay from my father when he had to come get us. I’ll never forget the look he gave me when I got in the car along with Kim and Billy.

I guess I was the leader of the trouble makers.  I miss my sister this year, like every year and my brother Wayne.  Wayne died from a motor cycle accident 1981, Kim committed suicide in May 2004, my father passed in September 2005 and my grandmother died 5 days later.  Then my father disinherited Billy and I and gave everything to a man we grew up with, another alcoholic.  My father owned his house, had 27,000 in the bank, a van and even gold bars.  Billy knew, I feared it but so unbelievable.  I don’t even know where he is buried.

Well enough of that, that last one still kills me.  He died with a real smile on his face.  I tell myself it was probably the morphine.  Don’t be too mad at my Mom, she was raised in an orphanage, I don’t think you get fed much there either.  Next time I’ll tell you how I ended up in a reform school for 3 years and how I finally escaped.