Raison d’être

From The Bancroft Project: Creating Character Dossiers-Establishing Blocks of Time. To add to our dossiers we worked with the concept of blocks of time and pathways chosen, blocked, travelled, and bypassed. We also considered others whose paths crossed ours or the path of our characters-

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” I have all the time in the world.” the Ghost said to herself as she stood, or more specifically,  as she floated a little above her empty Grave.

Even though she knew she was alone there in her spot above her empty Grave where nobody had left her flowers for so many years she had lost count, she waited for a reply.

Of course there wasn’t one.

There never was.

” I have all the time in the world to decide what kind of ghost I could be. ” the Ghost said firmly and the place where her eyes would be seemed to glow a bit and the place where her jaw would had it not been covered by a  shroud of light blue haze, looked a little firmer.

The Ghost thought about her options for a moment. ” I could be a vicious ghost and throw things around and push people down stairs and scare cats and dogs-well. Not scare exactly but I can  make them puff up and growl.

Or I could be a nice ghost and when I show up people would smell things like freshly baked cookies or flowers. Actually. I wasn’t exactly a nice person so that probably isn’t going to happen at all.”

The Ghost looked down into her empty Grave and then her misty face swirled like fog rolling from the sea up to the beach and when the mist settled down she was smiling.

” I know, I could be one of those ghosts that shows up when bad things are going to happen. I could make myself look like a cat or a big black dog or a black as coal rabbit with fiery red eyes. Now that sounds like the ticket, doesn’t it? The possibilities for what I could do there are only limited by my imagination- which as we both know was pretty wild monster back in my day. I mean, that’s how we ended up together after all.”

Her empty Grave, as dark and inscrutable as ever offered no opinion.

It never did.

She sighed and her misty face broke apart.

 

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” I have all the time in the world.” the Ghost said to herself above her empty Grave when nobody was listening because nobody was ever there.

Even though the Ghost knew she was alone there in her spot above her empty Grave where nobody had left her flowers for so many years she had lost count, she waited for a reply.

This time she got one, in fact, this time she got several.

She swirled in confusion, a light blue mist hanging above her empty Grave because something behind her roared and to her left,   dead rose bushes  snapped and fell to the ground which was a riot of sticker bushes and weeds and chunks or marble and concrete.

The roar was gone and after a few bangs and thumps she heard someone say not very clearly, ” yes I’m sure it doesn’t matter if we dig around here. We might find a few bones or maybe some wood but who cares?”

The Ghost followed the voices  with her almost non-existent eyes and saw that the voices  belonged to two men with shovels.

They chose a spot and begin to dig into her empty Grave and after several hours they seemed satisfied with their work. They went away and came back many  times with black bags- several in fact and after looking at each other for a minute one said to the other. ” Lunch at The Oak Tree  on Main Street after?’

The other man said, “Sounds good. Their burgers really  hit the spot”

Unceremoniously they began to drop the black, lumpy and in some cases leaking black bags into her empty Grave.

Then they filled it.

They were not acting like they had all of the time in the world.

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” So  now you have a purpose, . ”  the Ghost said to her dark and inscrutable Grave. How tragic is that? My empty Grave has a raison d’être and I don’t. ”

Had she had  lungs she would have taken a deep breath  before she screeched- so she just skipped to the screeching part, ” My entire situation is ridiculous and intolerable!”

This time she felt like her dark and inscrutable formally empty Grave was listening to her.

The ghost simmered and then she snapped together atom by atom, nightmare by nightmare and when she was done her eyes were fiery red and she was covered with dark silky fur.

Then she hopped over her once Empty and inscrutable Grave and she went to start her own  reason for being and her little black nose quivered with excitement.

 

Good Anita Marie…Good Job!

When I know I’m being hard on myself or the people around me I have found a great way to approach and change this less then attractive and mean spirited aspect of my personality.

I pretend like I’m dealing with my dog.

I have infinite patience with my dog, I never say mean things to my dog, I approach my daily relationship with my dog  and all it entails ( ha, ha, entails, get it? ) with positive energy instead of dark and fierce negative  Jupiter force windstorm  speed ( they clock them at 384 miles per hour) type energy.

When I’m with my dog, my phone is never with arms reach and when we are out I never answer it or use it unless he does something super cute and I need a picture of it to share with my Facebook friends who like Hamish more then me.

I’m actually okay with that because he IS  pretty darn awesome.

When I envision what the best Anita Marie is like, I go full circle and at each point in that circle see a different Anita Marie with all her various talents and entertaining sideshow type quirks,  I always want to land on and be the person who has learned to be a better human from her dog.

That person is actually a good person. I’m proud to know her.

So if it can be said about me that I treat my friends and family like a dog- I will know with absolute certainty, I’ve done good.

amm

Daily Addictions Prompt: Circle

My New Short Story!

How cool is this?

Modern Creative Life, an E-Zine that features all kinds of wonderful articles about the creative process as well as short stories and fiction,  has published my short story ” Grandmother’s House “.

So.

You know this isn’t a normal story about a normal Grandmother, right?

Check it HERE

Thank you!

amm

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Scene Of My Crime

20 or so years ago I used to go to the library to do my research.

The computers were limited in what they could do ( but did anyone notice? ) and the screen was dark gray and the letters were orange. I used to sit there with my notebook and look for books and articles that I found in the indexes of other books.

One evening the going was slow- it was cold outside and both of my sons were sick and I had left the dinner making to my husband- who had a lot of talents but making dinner wasn’t one of them.

I realized what time it was and gathered up what I had and rushed up to the check out counter. I guess I had lost track of time because the library was closing.

The librarian was not happy as she began to check each of my dozen books out.

She mentioned the need to flash the light more so that the patrons would realize they were about to close. Then she wondered if they need to post the hours on little cards at the tables and computer stands because so many people seemed to be unaware of the library hours.

She looked at my stacked of books- they were about embalming and funeral practices, there were some about cannibalism and cemetery art. There were some about head hunters  and forensics too.

She looked at me and pursed her lips to keep from vomiting, I guess.

That look got my back up.

Five seconds ago she was the busiest librarian in the universe but she had all the time in the world to make faces over my reading material.

” I’m writing a book ” I offered.

” Oh. And what kind of book are  you writing. ” She said clearly NOT wanting to know.

” A cookbook.”

She took a little bookmark with the library hours on them from a pile and put one into the top book and snapped the cover shut.

She didn’t say to have a nice evening and she didn’t say she hoped I enjoyed my books and that  she hoped she’d see me soon.

That was okay, because I always seemed to end up in her line with a stack of book five minutes to closing.

Daily Addiction Prompt: Forensic

Let’s Go!

I once read that to keep your brain healthy you should learn one new thing everyday-.

One simple thing was  to take a different route to someplace you go everyday- even if  it was just a walk to your mailbox or around your block or to work.

The thing is, when I did that I saw some neat things and ended up in some interesting places- that’s where all of these pictures came from and how I heard this great song performed by BB King.

Life is full of little adventures and this is a small example of the things I came across on those travels.

 

 

Photo P. Knapp

This is me finding something fun to do.

Don’t judge me.

Ha ha ha.

Photo A,M. Moscoso

No matter where I go, if a funeral home doesn’t pop up, a cemetery does. It’s kind of like having a loyal dog or a hungry cat following you around all of the time.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Art is everywhere if take a minute to look around you.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

I bought this at a curio shop, I don’t know why. It was very old and falling apart but I  fell in love with it. It has character…

like this song which came on right after I got done watching a show on tv- the show ended and the tv flipped back onto the music channel and here it is.

Well, there’s one kind of favor I’ll ask of you
Well, there’s one kind of favor I’ll ask of you
There’s just one kind of favor I’ll ask of you
You can See That My Grave Is Kept Clean

And there’s two white horses following me
And there’s two white horses following me
I got two white horses following me
Waiting on my burying ground

Did you ever hear that coffin’ sound
Have you ever heard that coffin’ sound
Did you ever hear that coffin’ sound
Means another poor boy is under ground

Did you ever hear them church bells tone
Have you ever hear’d them church bells tone
Did you ever hear them church bells tone
Means another poor boy is dead and gone

Well, my heart stopped beating and my hands turned cold
And, my heart stopped beating and my hands turned cold
Well, my heart stopped beating and my hands turned cold
Now I believe what the bible told

There’s just one last favor I’ll ask of you
And there’s one last favor I’ll ask of you
There’s just one last favor I’ll ask of you
See that my grave is kept clean

Written by Furry Lewis • Copyright © Universal Music Publishing Group

Photo A.M. Moscoso

 

Inspired By Waiting for Godot Advent-ure Calander Day#5

Become a micro-adventurer

 

It’s ALIVE

Photo A.M. Moscoso

 

Over the year I took part in and will probably take part again in WordPress’s Weekly  Photo Challenge. For the most part I enjoyed going out and meeting the challenge even if I was only using my phone/camera.

Taking a picture with my phone turned out to be a challenge in itself- using my phone camera is a lot like using my old Kodaks that my parents used to give me for Christmas when I was a kid- remember these?

I got into a debate with a woman about this, she said that the Phone Cameras are just as good as high end cameras that Professional Photographers use and I just had nothing to say to that.

All of that silliness aside, I had fun going out and looking for those pictures- I’ll be the first to say my pictures did look pretty lame next to some of the entries that were taken by people who have real  talent for photography- and trust me the kind of camera I used wasn’t going to make any difference at all.

It didn’t matter though, To me going out and finding those pictures was like writing a story so it was fun, it was an adventure and it’s a great way to see the world around me in a different frame.

Photo A.M. MoscosoFrom My Trip to New Orleans- he walked into the frame and I got a great cemetery picture

Photo A.M. Moscoso- King Tut Exhibit arrives in Seattle WA

Besides, I remember this story about the great Bluesman Robert Johnson.  Johnson was in a diner and one of the staff was telling him he wanted to learn the guitar but all he had was this beat up old guitar and that there was no way he could learn on it.

Johnson asked to take a look at it, maybe he could fix it. So the guy brought it out and Johnson played a bit on it and the guitar and Johnson sounded fantastic.

” Sounds fine to me ” Johnson said.

So I keep that story in mind when I go about learning something and maybe the tools I have to work with aren’t top drawer and I have to make due with what I have- passion and creativity and talent will always find a way to bubble up if you let it.

It’s true for me and I’m sure it’s true for you too.

Here’s a link to the section I keep my Photo Challenge work in. Take a look, try it yourself and I hope my story about Robert Johnson inspires you to enjoy exploring your creativity and finding the means to do it.

My Weekly Photo Challenge Responses are HERE

Photos by A.M. Moscoso HERE

While Waiting For Godot Advent-ure #3

Keeping Young At Art