I’ve been through a lot of storms- I know, haven’t we all?
Haven’t we all taken one from a blunt object right between the eyes, got stuck in the back with more than a few knives?
And as our eyes turn black and we try to find a way to gracefully pull those daggers out ( oh sure, it hurts but life goes one and I’m okay you’re okay, blah, blah, blah ) when does that moment of clarity hit us in waves of peace and joy?
When does the air fill with the scent of sandalwood and patchouli?
When is that moment when do the clouds part, the line shines down upon us, the door swings open and we just know we’re going to be okay, in fact better than okay?
Well if anyone knows, I’d sure like to know the answer and so help me- if it involves something on a Facebook meme or you sat in a circle somewhere and shared your way to a ‘better place’ I might not be ready for that story or that particular message.
Come to think of it, I never have been ready for that sort of thing.
When I hear those sorts of missives, I feel like I just woke up one morning to find I have two heads and neither one of them knows what the hell is going on.
When things go wrong, horribly, catastrophically bad I have never in my life known in the midst of it all knew that things were going to be okay.
My reality is that I just stand there in the middle of the storm and say to myself, ” Oh. Great. Now what is going to happen to me? Flying Monkeys with Rabies? Demonic Possession? Gamma Ray Strike? What? What the Hell is next?”
And do you know what happens?
Yeah.
Something a hundred times worse.
Something far more horrible than anything I could have ever imagined, and as a writer I can imagine some pretty awful things.
So no.
I have never suddenly knew that things are going to be okay.
It seems like the days just suck less as they wear on, I don’t smile as much, I don’t laugh as much.
Eventually the regular days start to roll in, then the laughing and the smiling comes back a little at a time. Sometimes I take it all and I write about it ( what’s that saying about not screwing with someone who buys ink by the barrel).
But for the most part I’ll be eating a cupcake or a slice of pizza and I’ll start to reflect on what’s been happening in my life
and
I laugh because whatever tried to get me, didn’t kill me even though it tried like Hell.
I lived through it.
Yay me.
:::Holidailies Prompt:::
When I was growing up my Dad and his sister, my Aunt and my Grandparents had a very cool tradition.
No matter the time of day, if we were home and it snowed we would put on the Christmas tunes as we bundled and then we would head out for a walk in the snow.
We’d head to a store and buy treats- like coco mix and comic books ( my Aunt loved comic books so we’d stock up on the Archies ( or any of Christmas themed ones ).
And for good measure I’d ask for those weird magazines about UFOs the other one I loved was called Fate–
Fate is a magazine about paranormal phenomena.
I’d stock up on Fate during the year ( my Grandma Ginger had a subscription ) so I’d snag her copies and read them during the winter- don’t ask me why it made sense when I was nine.
Back to the snow- If we were lucky it was dark and the snow was crunchy- I loved the crunchy sound of snow. I would break my own little path just so I could hear the snow crunch or squeak ( if it was powdery snow).
It was an adventure, and all along the way we’d tell stories to each other.
The weirder, the spookier- THE BETTER.
There is only one thing that could top those memories- and the snow walks I’ve taken since.
That would be the chance to walk in snow on…
Pluto.
Tell me that wouldn’t be the bees knees.
I’d sign up for that trip in a heartbeat.
Or I’d love to take a snow walk on 
Mars.
Oh yes indeed.
Martian Snow.
Let that roll around your head for a minute.
Grand thought isn’t it?
And I know it’s methane snow- but snow is snow and that’s the stuff you’d find on the moon, Titan
I’d go to those planets- risk my life, give up years on Earth just to checkout the snow.
My family would be disappointed if there was ever a chance to do that and any of us passed it up.
We’d take comic books, magazines about ghosts and hot chocolate.
Want to tag along?
Of course you do.
DRACULA GOES TO CHURCH
The cat came up from a large lightless spider webbed choked crypt lined with rough crumbling stone walls ( how long had he been asleep this time?) and out to to the cemetery which was in ruins now.
Headstones were broken, some were covered with weeds the Funeral Home on the hill was a skeleton now- the windows were boarded up and the front door was missing.
A tall man was standing next to a pile of rubble, with his back to him.
” Well there went the neighborhood ” the man said in a heavily accented voice. ” I thought this was going to be a good one. Real estate, you just never know what it’s going to do.”
The man turned, looked around and then down.
His thin lips curled.
The cat looked up at and its eyes flared yellow at him.
The man hated cats and here he was, talking to one.
A stupid rat catcher.
” I am the Count. Count Dracula. Death stands in awe of what I did when I was human, and it is stunned at what I’ve done since I died.”
The cat yawned.
” Yes. well I am standing here talking to a cat. Pity. It’s true . Even the mightiest fall, ” he motioned around them and looked down pointedly at the cat. ” Eventually.”
The cat lifted it’s paw up and began to clean it.
“So tell me, what have you done, Cat?”
The cat, it’s voice heavy with dirt from the crypt answered in an all to human voice, ” I came back from the dead and drove my most of family to their grave. And I got away with it.”
Dracula heard a cough. One that doesn’t come from the chest but rather is intended to get one’s attention.
The Count straightened up turned around and a man with glasses and a wooden stake in his hand slammed the expertly sharpened stick into the Count’s chest.
” Well Church. It looks like you eat tonight Buddy.”
Count Dracula, slayer of worlds, seducer of women and hater of cats plopped unceremoniously to the ground.
Church circled around the writer’s legs and Stephen leaned down and pat his misshapen skull. ” After that great story you told me about your family, I can’t thank you enough. It was one long scream fest. Let me me know if there’s anything else you need. I owe you Pal”
Church meowed, though it actually sounded like a laugh.
And then he began to eat.
