Tag Archives: tragedy

The Tragedy in Newtown, CT

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted here, and after many promises of a better schedule and frequent updates, I’ve let you all down again.  I apologize.

Today, though, I want to address the tragedy in Newtown.  Just briefly.  I’m not going to rail on about gun control or health care.  I’m not  going to tell you that it could have been prevented or that, by some cosmic nonsense, there was a reason for this.

It was senseless violence.  Twenty children, ages 6 and 7, and seven courageous and caring educators were gunned down two days ago by a man who had no business being in that elementary school to begin with.  It was a tragedy.

Twenty families will experience the holidays without their little ones.  Twenty families will have unopened gifts on Christmas morning.  A season that should be filled with joy, love, and charity will now be associated with grief and loss for an entire town, and my heart goes out to them.

That was all I really wanted to say.  I haven’t been able to get that shooting out of my head since I found out about it.  Please keep these people in your thoughts and prayers through the holiday season.

 

**UPDATE**

On the same day, Dec 14, a man in Beijing, China stabbed 22 children and an adult outside of a primary school.  I just heard about this today, and it sickens me.   Please include the families and victims in China in the above request for thoughts and prayers.  Thank you. <3

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Filed under Life

The Staircase by Amino

A friend of mine from the Write Write and Write TinyChat room (where I spend most of my noveling Novembers, because my lovely acquaintances there explode with sprints and wars <3) took a post from my series, Writing Life, and wrote a short story from it!  =O  I do so love being useful.

Really, it’s fantastic.  She wrote the piece in about two hours, with a quick editing run-through.  For something so quickly put together, I’m surprised how well it reads.  The main character’s voice comes across as very measured and nostalgic, almost conversational, as if s/he is just so destroyed emotionally that s/he can’t help but be detached from his/her own life.

Beautifully emotive if a bit lengthy in some of the narrative, The Staircase is very effective in pulling empathy straight from your guts.  The pain and utter sorrow that this person’s loss instills is very easily felt through the bulk of the story.

Fans of true love and subtly-presented tragedies, this one is for you.

Visit Amino’s blog!

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Filed under Featured Blog

Burnt Offerings: a response

So, I’m now a registered author on Goodreads.com! Yay!  Anyone who has read Something Peculiar now has the opportunity to add it to their book lists, rate, and review!  Celebrations!

Yesterday, I posted the writing prompt for Friday entitled Burnt Offerings.  Since Inkwell meets every Friday night, I decided to toss it at the other Inkwellers.  So, we wrote awhile, and this is what I came up with; unedited and unabridged.

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The corners of the photo curled at the edges, the image bubbling and distorting the cherubic face pouting at the camera.  The sepia tones burned black as the infant’s face was obscured, burnt black by the flames.  Elizabet kicked a stray piece of wood at the fire, embers and ashes exploding upward and dying as they fell.  She drew the back of her hand across her tear-streaked face, leaving tracks of soot over her cheeks.  The photograph gone, she dropped a lace bonnet into the fire.

“What do you feel this will accomplish?”  Avery’s voice jolted her back to some semblance of lucidity.  “She was my child, too, Liz.”

Elizabeth whirled around, rising and turning in one fluid motion.  Her eyes lit on Avery, leaning on her infant daughter’s open casket.  Without a second’s hesitation, her hand flew, striking him full in the face.

It was the resounding crack more than the impact that stunned him, his cheek flowering a brilliant red.  “You’ll be sent off if the guests see you like this,” he snapped.  “You aren’t the only mother to mourn a child.”  Avery, her husband and her love turned cold since the death of their child, left Elizabeth alone with the casket.

She sank to her knees with a sob and resumed dropping tiny Christening clothes into the fire, piece by piece.

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Filed under Flash Fiction, Writing