What do you see # 56 – 16 November 2020-No more in the steal of my nights, no more his creep

For Sadje’s what do you see?

Darkness settles in, I can feel the cold buried deep within my skin. Room #5 in some tiny little no name town. There is no turning back now

Runaway into the night, I can’t let my imagination take flight. My car left behind the building out of sight. Peeking out to see if anyone was in follow of me

I am alone for the first time, and it is a bit of a fright. I did it, I escaped the reality of his wrath. In the steal of the night. His massive hands cuffed around my neck, and wreak of his beer stained breath. I left

Looking through the window pane, my eyes suspect of it all. I am exhausted beyond belief. I can’t remember the last time I had uninterrupted sleep. Always in panic of his creep

I just need to shut, and lock the door. The door to him. Crawl into bed, safe away from what was my hell. The never ending manipulation, tip toeing as I always walked on egg shells in terror of his drunk ears

I can’t believe I am still standing here letting fear grip me. My feet are stiff, and lifeless

I have got to pry my hands off the door, my eyes are paralyzed in paranoia. I don’t see any silhouette of a giant sized drunk in pursuit of me

I need to close my eyes, shut the door. I need to get the sleep he robbed me of for all too long. No more song, and dance. Not a chance. No more in the steal of my nights. I took flight


What do you see- 52 – 19 October’20: I would have it look no other way

Image credit; Pisauikan@ Pixabay

Every crease on my face has a story the furrows of an old lady that has worked since the age of 9

The wrinkles are that of a once youthful young woman that gave birth to 10 beautiful babies

Every line signifies wisdom, and perseverance through the storms of life. I am a wife, and mother first

The pucker around my lips reveal a smile, I am blessed with the gift of health. Wealth is not measured by the amount of money in your pockets. It is all about family

Every fold in my face is the memories I hold more precious than gold, priceless love

The layers around my eyes have seen joy, heartache, grief, and loss. The seams have held tears, but I try not to let anyone see. They don’t need to bare my years of crinkles, no one needs spy

Every wrinkle makes me the old woman I am today. I am better for every connecting line. For my life was created for them not me. Even the deep rooted crow’s feet are years of me taking the back seat

This is my face, and I would have it look no other way


What do you see #51? An hourglass of time…

Image credit; Adrien King @ Unsplash

An hourglass of time, you would think it divine. How fast the sand sifted its way to the bottom of the glass. Swirling with memories of last. Picture books in my head. Turning the pages, ages ago. Older, taller, wrinkly, all in the blink of an eye. Time passes us by.

Recollection in a collection of layers. Tears, laughter, grief, sorrow, each pebble a marker for something passed. Alas all my expectations never met. Sitting there I am reaching, but my hand can’t quite touch the tales of time. I guess it is meant to be left behind. Someone else from above is in reach for it too, let it be for they now have the chance to turn over the hourglass of their own making. It is theres for the taking.

Let them begin just as I did, a memory of a lifetime in the hourglass of time. Yes I will attest it has been divine.


Twiglet #198

cherry red sky

Oh she was a beaut! 69’ Dodge Charger. She was a little rough around the edges, but so am I. It was not a tough sell.

There she sat the car I dreamed of since I was 16, and I had saved every penny earned to buy her.

As I put “my” key into her ignition, and pushed the gas pedal full throttle, she was now my model. Cherry Lane was going to be her name, and she was going in for a new body image. Cherry Red Sky was the color I had already picked. It didn’t matter she was not mint. Cherry Lane was mine. She was oh so divine, and we would go miles together in this lifetime.

Cherry Lane, and I…


Tale Weaver – #296 – Stranger – 8th October

For Michael at MLMM:

Yeah I am no stranger to this. Who the heck names a dog George anyways? It is too damn cold to be out here. “George come here George”. I plead under shivering teeth.

This is ridiculous I tell the kids it’s your dog, you will care for him. Yet who is the one out in the 12 degree weather calling for him. Who will be the bad guy in this, me!

I never wanted a dog in the first place they are so much damn work. We barely get the thing potty trained, and now he has gone, and run off. Animals are stupid!

Half past 4 o’clock it is going to be getting dark soon. I am about ready to turn around. Yeah I am no stranger to this. I don’t even see a set of footprints resembling paws. I tell ya I am going to put my foot down the next time a topic of any sort of animal is breeched in my house. I don’t see the kids all eagerly dressed in their winters best out doing everything they can in search of their dog. “George”. I called out so loud, I heard a tree branch crack behind me from the crisp breeze whisping the trees. My knees were cold, my feet felt damp.

I will give it one more hour down this path, one more hour to see if that dumb mutt might come running amuck. Really who names their dog George? Yeah I am no stranger to this! I am pist! An hour more…maybe a little more. “George”!!!!


Photo Challenge 335, my first attempt ever at a writing prompt so be nice please…oh boy!

– Brooke DiDonato

This is my first ever attempt at a writing prompt! Encouraged by a few in here! Well here I go, there is a first time for everything! Please let me know how I do. Stine Writing, and Sadje thanks for all the encouragement! Let’s do this! 👌

I suppose the kids are right at the bottom of the stairs. Oh joy! This is really happening, I have made so many promises to quit. I have tried it all. I have tried drinking beer only, limiting my number of drinks, never drinking alone, never would I drink in the morning, drank only at home, switched from Scotch to Brandy, and even swore off drinking all together. Hand over heart, “I shall never drink again.” Like a broken record. I have said it again, and again.

The shoe oh they have seen this all too many times before. Promises slurred from under rank toxic breath. “C-c-come hear kidsss can you help your mumsy back up”? I can’t even help from laughing the situation so fantastic yet so old.

Of course all I hear is them walking away with complete disgust, and my husband he saw it all. I already heard our bedroom door shut with weariness. Most likely when I can manage my composure I am going to find my pillow at the front of my bedroom door. The couch will be my bed instead tonight. I only drank just ______? I was only going to drink ice tea to. Oh I have no idea how much I drank, and I am betting I will not even remember this awkward moment when I wake tomorrow morning. I will sleep it off.

If I can stand back up after this I will place my hand over my Hhheart, oh who cares. They don’t! Why should I? No I am not going to cry, (wiggle wobble of my leg). I hope I don’t fall all the way down the stairs. Well though maybe then they all would come to me in care. I am not about to frown nor cry who do they think I am? They are the ones insane. Can’t even enjoy a good laugh. I only drank ____? Like I said I will most likely not even remember this in the morning.

But they will, oh yes but they will…


Upon a weed, and a wish

Every child in their youth, and come on adults tell the truth we find these weeds fun! Age does not make a difference. Blowing as we make a wish. Don’t tell anyone what is it or that wish you blew may not come true. Blowing with all our might, watching the air take flight to our fanciful youth 

This actually is a Taraxacum officinale. What you might see as an irritating weed, I see as flawless

When we blow upon its round circle watching it dissipate from its circles form, it seeds the ground where dandelions invade. What a trade a wish for an army of dandelions taking reservation as if they were allies upon on our neatly groomed lawns. It would never dawn on us not to entrust the imagination in that child like play. Its transformation from a round bolbous plea, to a yellow icky smelling flowery weed. It is done, we blew with all our desire

Hoping our wish come true. A Gardner’s worst nightmare, and we all have taken part in it. I did this just last year, and I can’t tell you what I wished for. That is between me, and Taraxacum officinale..

An unwanted decal in most yards across America. A dandelion taking relief, upon a weed and wish. What a conundrum indeed in a Taraxacum.

So the next time you see one will you pull it from its root, and blow upon it making your wish?. You bet we all will…

This is a passing of time, yet we will take part in for it is passed down from natures generations. It is because it is based upon a weed and wish. 

We all live for just one wish…if for only it came true as we blew. Shh. Mine is still in the making, and I did blow with all my might. All the seedlings took flight to dandelions storms wreak havoc. So my wish very well still may come true