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site title: Parchment Monkey the words in her head go round and round

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Text of the page (random words):
and work off some of those pancakes she relished the exercise and fresh country air taking the dishes to the sink she looked over at the old iron bedstead with tom softly snoring and smiled she rinsed her plate and mug and placed them in the drainer she would wash them later lovingly she bent down over the bed moved the sleeping cat to one side and gingerly wrapped the quilt around her little sleeping angel time for our stroll my lovely she cooed to the bundle in the quilt tom rearranged himself in the bed and returned to his nap the old lady strolled through the house out the front door and down the lane softly singing and cradling her bundled quilt bits of bone and hair the remains of her only child born 60 years ago and still the love of her life yes it was an absolutely glorious morning posted in creative writing dreams short stories uncategorized writing tagged alternate realities creative writing death and dying dreams leave a comment look homeward angel november 20 2010 by the red headed stepchild pat had no idea what to expect as she neared her old neighborhood this was her first visit back in so many years the years had flown by married divorced buried both parents and a baby this journey to her childhood home was a difficult one yet she felt compelled to see it one more time each street she turned down brought an avalanche of memories some good some not so good she could hear kids yelling and screaming as they skated down the sidewalks or played in makeshift cardboard box forts so long ago sitting on front porches hanging out on the steps with the gang drinking cokes and singing the latest tunes dreaming of going to the beach after graduation some day the memories started spilling out of the boxes where pat had stored them on that corner under that street light her first boyfriend had kissed her such a bittersweet memory he had been killed in the war over there why that used to be a corner market where pat always went to get candy now it s a mcdonald s things change people change life goes on arriving at her old street pat was surprised to see that many of the houses were gone torn down and replaced with huge structures that didn t fit in with the neighborhood architecture these behemoths sat on tiny plots of land and made the houses around them look sad and neglected what a shame pat s house was still there in its original form the carport was intact she could see the metal fence surrounding the back yard the same back yard where she had played with her collie prince as she drove by pat noticed the old redwood deck that dad had built all by himself the house looked so tiny that s not how pat remembered it as a youngster that house had been huge with the terrifying gravity furnace in the basement pat never went to the basement she drove on no sense stopping she envisioned walking up to the front door knocking and telling the owners she had once lived there as a youngster would they let her come in and look around the odds were slim the current owners would allow it too much crime these days you can never be too careful just look at all the alarm signs at various houses when pat lived here the front door was always unlocked how times have changed she thought to herself at the corner was the two story brick home that belonged to mrs juvinetti ah mrs juvinetti all the kids loved her children would show up at her door and find that mrs j had just baked chocolate chip cookies everyone was invited in and there was always enough cookies and milk to go around pat spent many hours at the juvinetti household and had even roomed in college with cindy juvinetti until the night of the murder pat hadn t thought of cindy in a very long time she pulled the car to the curb the memories were overwhelming her pat got out of the car and walked up to the juvinetti house the grass needed mowing the bushes were overgrown and the paint on the shutters was peeling i wonder she thought to herself arriving at the front door pat rang the doorbell and stood back from the door in a few moments the door opened and there stood an old stooped white haired woman dressed in a flowery housecoat though the years had taken their toll there was no mistaking mrs juvinetti she was still alive and pat was so excited to see her again mrs juvinetti mrs juvinetti it s me patty connor from up the street the old lady looked at pat and slowly started to smile then she opened her arms and in a soft voice said my little pattycake come in come in pat walked into the house and immediately smelled the mustiness of years of dust and clutter mrs juvinetti had always taken such pride in her home now it was decaying like mrs j pat was saddened to see the conditions in the house mrs juvinetti led pat to the living room and pat sat on the same sofa that had been in that room during her childhood years it was a very large piece of furniture with a bright floral pattern now stained and worn with years of use mrs juvinetti gently lowered herself into an armchair the kind that had hand crocheted antimacassars on the arms and the back of the chair mrs j had lovingly made those so many years ago they were yellowing pat felt bad she hadn t kept in touch with the juvinetti family after cindy had been so tragically killed it was simply too painful and then the years got away from her but she was here now and wanted to take advantage of the time as pat knew this would be her last trip home her life was elsewhere now she would stay a few minutes have a cookie and reminisce then be on her way mrs juvinetti you look wonderful pat commented oh my dear girl i m an old woman now just waiting to die there are so few children in the neighborhood these days not many come to visit me anymore i still bake my cookies but now once a week a nice lady picks me up and we take the cookies to the hospital and share them with the children s wing you know how much you loved my cookies when you were little why don t i make us some tea dear and while i put the kettle on maybe you would go out to the garage and get some cookies out of the freezer for me they will only take a few minutes to thaw out and then we can sit and chat to our hearts content that sounds lovely mrs j i ll run to the freezer and be right back mrs juvinetti slowly got up from her chair and shuffled out to the kitchen pat stood up and stayed in the living room for a moment just taking it all in she turned and went through the side porch to the breezeway which led to the garage opening the garage door pat saw the tall freezer at the end of the room and walked over to it pat smiled at the thought of those wonderful chocolate chip cookies she opened the freezer door and reached inside for a package of cookies but there were no cookies in the freezer there were no shelves in the freezer either all that was in the freezer was the bent and long frozen body of mr juvinetti perhaps it s true you can t go home again posted in creative writing life memories short stories writing tagged childhood memories creative writing wicked old ladies 3 comments smothered august 5 2010 by the red headed stepchild how her feet hurt in those new penny loafers as they both ran to catch the bus slow down please it was so difficult to keep up with an adult who wasn t hampered by ugly new shoes leaping up the stairs of the bus and dashing down the aisleway to the last seats available she knew without a doubt those loafers were going to cause a nasty blister on at least one heel oh how hot it was on that bus all the windows were down but the wicked stepmother got to sit next to the window and the little girl with the hurting heels sat in the aisle seat bumping up against a rather large man on the opposite side of the bus he was sweating profusely the bus was crowded that day and the young girl hoped with all her might their trip would soon end she had recently worked on vocabulary words at school recalling the word aromatic the child thought it a perfect word for that bus she smiled to herself for a quick moment it was going to be a long day arriving at their bus stop she was hurriedly pushed off the bus toward their destination that ugly lump of hospital looming on the horizon she didn t want to go there her feet hurt even worse than before she was hot and sweaty and not looking forward to what was coming inside the hospital the smells changed drastically there was disinfectant strong perfumes and a strange odor she couldn t identify she hoped it had nothing to do with dead or old people as she knew that s what happened in hospitals you go there to die at least that s what they told her had happened to her real mother she never was quite sure of the story into the doctor s office she was propelled and quickly found a seat slipping out of those nasty loafers she had been forced to wear why would anyone wear brand new shoes knowing full well a day of walking was ahead she sat and pondered her position in life and realized she had no say in anything as her name was called she put on her new loafers over the raw patch on her heel and limped into her future posted in creative writing life memories uncategorized writing tagged creative writing new shoes this is my life leave a comment unwanted guest july 24 2010 by the red headed stepchild it was the ugliest wallpaper she had ever seen a white background with threatening tendrils of dark green ivy growing every which way surrounding the small dining alcove the wallpaper appeared to grow onto the walls like kudzu gone wild inside the house she found it very disturbing to her young brain and it hurt her eyes to follow the various tendrils as they snaked their way around the room without ever breaking apart ever the tiny room had been wallpapered in one fell swoop there were no seams she wanted seams seams would mean the ivy had no chance of continuing to grow into another room at about 10 feet by 12 feet the dining room was cramped at best still it was stuffed with very old and heavy mahogany furniture between the furniture and the ivy tendrils she knew the room couldn t breathe against one wall was a buffet upon which stood a regal sterling silver pair of pheasants she always thought silver birds were a bit pretentious and she waited for them to tarnish but they never did other priceless pieces of sterling sat on the buffet and yet none of it was ever used across from the tall buffet was a small mahogany table with only two chairs other chairs were hidden somewhere else in the house to be brought out when company arrived she had once seen the table reach the entire length of the dining room something called leaves had been put into the table she thought again of the wallpaper it had too many tendrils and not enough leaves that was what was wrong with it it wasn t natural nothing about that house or its occupants was natural on top of the table was a piece of lace she had been told that it was very old she liked to touch it and one day she put her finger through one of the holes and made them bigger she thought it looked nicer that way random she didn t like patterns patterns were too predictable predictable was dangerous it was some time after christmas when she walked through the dining room at night alone others were in the house but they were occupied with someone called lawrence welk in the family room the hallway light was on gently illuminating the dining room she casually visited each corner of the dining room and gently ran her fingernail down the corner of the wall from top to bottom she had to step on one of the two chairs to do this and hoped no one would suddenly want a snack from the kitchen and discover her she was on a quest corner by corner she scored down all four until each wall was separated by a seam and the ivy was no longer connected she slept well that night posted in creative writing life memories uncategorized writing tagged creative writing life stories from far back in her brain 2 comments sometimes july 3 2010 by the red headed stepchild sometimes the load is heavy and i pray for respite sometimes i think god is busy and my prayers are relegated to the bottom of the pile in the folder in the cabinet labeled insignificant sometimes i feel guilty complaining because i know there are atrocities in the world and by comparison my issues are miniscule specks of dust in god s eye sometimes i wish god would look at my folder just once and not rubber stamp me as to do later posted in creative writing depression life poetry tagged creative writing god stuff poetry 3 comments emma lou haiku june 27 2010 by the red headed stepchild gold red fur gleams in early morning rays of light emmalou sleeps on big brown eyes searching nose pushes under my arm stroking her brings peace chew toy drops from mouth she smells treats in my pocket never could fool her as i lay on couch crying tears of frustration she licks my wet face how can just a dog have such an impact on life my angel in fur emmalou looks up from her spot in the sun ray knowing i need her with head on my lap emma sighs contentedly we are family posted in creative writing life poetry writing tagged emmalou golden destroyer haiku my little fur angel 1 comment hattie may 15 2010 by the red headed stepchild what s the word i m searching for shallow that s it that s how i felt shallow no maybe it was superficial oh let s just get right to the heart of it and admit what i truly felt was useless i was merely taking up space on this planet and i wasn t sure it was even my space it was another late night and once again i found myself sleepless sitting in front of the tv watching one more informercial for some ridiculous kitchen gadget it was enough to send me over the edge or maybe it was a ledge not an edge i was close to climbing a ledge and taking the big leap but then again i m afraid of heights and then he showed up oh crap here we go again he is always there when i begin to wallow to pull me back off the precipice and speak to me of hope i realy wasn t in the mood for this discussion just leave me alone i m not worth your time i said outloud in the small still voice in my head came you aren t shallow you aren t useless i didn t make you that way i gave you special gifts when you were created some of which you are aware some you use frequently much to my delight you have gifts which will surprise you when the time is right in my time beloved not yours oh puhleeze here we go again with that my time versus yours stuff but i knew he was right his time would always trump mine good thing god and i never played chess i climbed back into bed and fell asleep i dreamed of an old woman with snowy white hair she seemed so pleased to see me and immediately invited me to join her for tea i looked around and realized we were in some type of nursing facility i could hear everyone in the background the tv in the sitting room ladies in brightly colored smocks milling about and i could smell flowers an elevator dinged signaling someone s arrival but this lit...
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