chey being

Seeing what's inside again.


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Silence

I love being under water.  The weightlessness.  All sounds fade away.  My entire body is being touched all at once by the softness of the water.  It’s such a strange feeling because when you are fully submerged, you don’t feel wet.  It’s just comfort, like a warm cozy blanket.  The few seconds of time that I am able to hold my breath are magnified because I feel completely present, completely at peace.  All problems or cares cease to exist.  Even though I may fear what is in the water or that I may step on something unknown, the feeling of being within the water is enough for me to take my chances.  It is one of my favorite experiences.

This place reminds me of my childhood and the creek and lake that are in my old neighborhood.  I spent so many summers swimming in that lake.  I’ll never forget that I always had to keep moving or the fish would bite if I stood still for too long.  My mother called me a fish because I would stay underwater for what seemed like an impossible amount of time for my little lungs.  Like a ribbon in the wind, I would glide through the water just above the sand for as long as I could stand it.  This was my escape from all my fears, an escape into what felt like a dream world.  I could allow all my thoughts to come out in the silence.  No one could see me there under the greenish-brown water.

I remember traversing the creeks on the other side of the subdivision.  I always felt like it was undiscovered country.  I would fearlessly walk through the creeks to explore the other side.  It was so exciting and dangerous, or at least it felt like it at the time. When my mother and I hike in the mountains out West, I still feel that playfulness I had as a child.  The two of us encourage one another to overcome our fears and head into the unknown.  Decades later, it makes me happy to still carry those feelings and even more so when I let them out to play.

These were my thoughts as I walked along the wooden pathway.  The water here is frozen and covered in hard, crunchy snow, yet something made me think of summer and what it’s like to play in the water.  Everything is very still.  Unmoving.  Quiet.  And eerie in a way.  The dark tunnel only amplifies the eeriness.  It is a far cry from the splashes and squeals of summertime.  My footsteps on the cold bridge now sound off their echo.  The noise within the hollowness is a bit of a comfort now.  It’s funny how silence can be scary at times.  Like there is nothing to ground us, nothing to make us know that we exist.  Or maybe it is the fear of our mind being left to its own devices.  If there is no noise, no distractions, we may hear something we do not want to hear.  We may have to listen.  Listen to what we already know but thus far have been successful at tuning it out.

Yes, that is what I am feeling.  That is why this quietness frightens me.  I don’t want to be by myself.  I don’t want to listen with a clear head.  It will require action.  It will mean that I know and I can’t take that back.  My steps begin to slow down.  I do not want to come out into the open.  What was once spooky and dark has now become a safe haven.  I am hidden here.  It is like being under the water and no one can see me.  I stop.  It feels like a stand-off now.  Something out of the Wild West!  How did I come to this?  I was just thinking of happy childhood memories and now I am frozen in place.  I know I am only facing myself.  I know it is a more peaceful self.  A happier self.  Yet it is truly frightening.

I begin to pace now from side to side.  It is colder here in the shade and I feel the need to move.  There is an anxiety building in my chest and I am finding it hard to breathe.  I start to talk to myself.  I tell my self to calm down, that everything is OK.  I force myself to take some deep breaths.  Just then, as if whispered in my ear, I hear that I am safe.  I am safe.  These words come to me as a knowing.  I already know that.  I laugh a bit and smile.  Of course, I am always safe for it’s just me.  My soul, my guiding light that only ever wants what is best for me.  The one that wants me to stop and listen more often.  The one that tirelessly tries to show me and lead me towards my highest good.  The wave of fear has left me now.

I take a deep breath and walk into the light.  I will stand there and I will listen in the silence.

 

Photo courtesy of D. Campbell.

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How Coffee Became a Morning Addiction (A creation myth.)

Joe works for the CIA.  He works in a cubicle with hundreds of other neckties.  They work the daily shuffle of papers, the usual spying on foreign leaders, and currently, the Watergate mess that was about to embarrass the lot of them.  These men started early and stayed late.  There was little time for sleep between work and mowing the lawn.  And forget about those pesky wives, and peskier children.  No time for that non-sense with the director down their throats.

The director was growing weary of hounding his men.  The new 10 minute breaks at the water cooler were doing little to sustain energy.  As he was getting a blood pressure check at the onsite medical office, he decided to ask the doctor if he had any advice on how to keep the energy up for his men.  The doctor asked the director if his men where eating a balanced diet, receiving proper care and attention from their wives, and getting enough sleep.  The director did not know the answer to these questions, but he was sure to make it happen.  He left the docs office feeling confident that his men would be in tip-top shape within a week.

As soon as the director got back to his office he dictated a memo to his secretary as follows:

To the wives of all CIA employees,

Being a CIA agent is a very demanding job.  We require a high amount of intelligence at all times.  This can be very stressful on our men; therefore, we are asking for your help.  Wives have the highest honor in taking care of our fine men.  In order for them to perform at their highest level, they require a hardy, well-balanced meal, three times a day.  They must also be allowed to rest and decompress when they come home from a hard days work.  Please keep children quiet during this time.  Offering your husband compassion and complements about his hard work will surely help sustain him though his day.  We here, at the CIA, thank you for servicing our men in all capacities.  It is your patriotic duty.  Be proud.  Be American.

Sincerely,

Very Important, Person

Surprisingly, a week later, the director saw no change in his men.  He began pacing his office with a furrowed brow, wondering how he was going to solve this very serious problem.  These were good men but they were beginning to look like zombies.   The agency’s reputation was under attack by its very own country.  It was more important than ever to keep his overworked staff on high alert.  Just then the phone rang.

“Important, how can I help you,” he said.  It was his informant in Mexico.  Top Secret was talking so fast that the director could hardly keep up.  He asked Mr. Secret if he could slow down.  Mr. Secret agreed but began to repeat the information at the same speed.  Mr. Important grew frustrated and asked Top why he was talking so fast.  The informant apologized profusely and told Mr. Secret that it must be the coffee.  Apparently, while infiltrating the Mexican government, the informant became addicted to the stuff.   At the end of the call, Mr. Important commended the man for his service and the sacrifices he had taken to keep his identity safe.

After hanging up with Mr. Secret, the director’s wheels were spinning.  Could this be the answer he was looking for?  He decided to test this theory on his top guy, Joe.  After waiting a week for the supply from Mexico, he told Joe that his country was in need of his service more than ever.  He told him that the government was testing a new drink that could increase productivity by 50%.  Joe, of course, agreed without hesitation.

A week later and the results were amazing.  The director could not believe the increase in alertness and productivity in Joe and soon began offering free coffee to everyone in the office  Coffee needed to come to America.  Mr. Important contacted the President and told him of his discovery.   He expressed the need to bring coffee into all government agencies as a start.  The director knew this could become huge across the entire country.  The President agreed and let Mr. Secret begin the process of importing coffee in large quantities.  The director was so excited after the call that he immediately contacted his good friend, Iam Starbucks, who knew a thing or two about importing.  This was going to be big, he thought.

A week later, Joe noticed he was beginning to lag a bit after lunch.  He had just read something about this new soda pop drink.  He made a mental note to talk to the director about this.

_______________________

**If you’re wondering why I wrote this silly mess, honestly, I am too.   I do not know what portion of my brain, if any, this came from because it is so not like my usual writing!  If you are one of my regular followers and actually made it to this part, I apologize!  And have no fear, this was a momentary blip on the radar.  This was my response to this week’s writing challenge:  “Are you ready to spin a good origin tale?  This week, we ask you to invent (or reinvent) a creation myth.”  I have to say though, it was fun to go a bit off kilter. 🙂

Photo credit:  giamarrospeaks.blogspot.com


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The Oak Tree (Blog Your Block Writing Challenge)

My neighborhood block has untold stories.  Maybe this was really one of them…

We were probably going to have to cut it down.  The roots were pushing up the land and making it difficult to cultivate.  My father said it would make for good firewood in the winter, but he knew my connection and would leave it up to me.

I thought about this.  The tree could be reduced to a pile of wood.  It would be burned up to keep us warm and then gone forever.  After at least a century of survival, its existence would be forgotten in a season.  Unless some lucky seed managed to make it’s way far far from here, there wasn’t even a sapling left behind in memory.

Standing under the canopy of this ancient beauty, I could see the narrow ring at its base.  It was made by me, of course.  Countless times I have walked around her.  Sometimes it was a slow, meditative walk; stretching my hand out to allow my fingers to graze the rough bark as I contemplated life and shared my thoughts.  Often, when I was younger, I would run around the tree, smiling and giggling and making myself dizzy.  I would fall in breathless exhaustion and look up at the sun twinkling through the leaves.  I loved the quiet moments of being lulled by the breeze that brushed the twirling leaves together.

This old tree has become my friend and I feel her awareness of my presence.   We bring an unspoken joy to one  another.  I can not allow my friend to die.  My friend will remain.  She will always be there for me and she will be the one to keep my memory alive long after I am gone.

 

Photo credit:  footage.shutterstock.com


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The Wait. (Weekly Writing Challenge: The Setting’s the Thing)

Creating a setting from a different time or place that is unfamiliar to me, is not called a challenge for nothin’.  Here goes somethin’…

I was moving slow today.  Actually, everything seemed to be in slow motion.  I felt a hyper-awareness to my surroundings.  While walking to the diner, I was aware of each foot step as if it were calculated.  The pressure, the distance, the speed, my senses were working over-time.

A waft of smoke distended out into the fresh air when I opened the heavy glass door.  The suits must be lined up at the counter for lunch already, I thought.  I reminded myself that I should probably quit smoking, but I took a deep inhale for the moment.  I was oddly calm, but my hyper-awareness was beginning to make me feel on edge.  Rita nodded me over to an empty table next to a window.  I always pictured her as a Hindu Goddess with four arms by the way she was able to balance everything.  This was my favorite Greek diner this side of town, but the air was heavy on the garlic today, making me a bit queasy.  I took my seat.  I always sat facing the crowd; I liked to people watch.  This behavior really annoyed my husband when he wanted my attention.

I wasn’t seated for more than a minute before I became entranced in my surroundings.  There was something about Nixon and the war on the radio near the counter.  All the men had their ears perked, but I couldn’t listen; it was too depressing.  I saw their faces turn from jovial to somber in a matter of seconds.  My eyes swerved to behind the counter where old Babo, that’s what we all called the owner, was yelling something in Greek.  His arms were flailing around wildly at his son who appeared to be late for work.  Wow, he grew up fast.  He was wearing red flared pants and a flowery shirt.  It was all very tight and showed off his new grown-up physique.  Just then the sound of a spoon rattling against a cup and saucer demanded my attention.  Rita must have sent over the new girl with my usual cup of tea.  Her hand was shaking, she was so nervous.  I gave her a friendly smile trying to calm her nerves.  Wait a minute, I thought, I was the one that needed calming!

I ordered some Avgolemono, as that was about all my stomach could take for the moment.  I wondered how long it would be before John arrived.  The last cloud must have surrendered, because the sun was coming in through the window beside me now.  It was going to be another scorcher.  I could sense the pavement outside bracing for impact already against the overhead sun.  My polyester dress seemed to react like an oven, and I was the food being roasted alive.  A Beatles song was just turned up a hair by Rita.  She gave Babo a look as if to say, “Don’t you say a word!”  But in Greek, of course.  I wish the Beatles’ break-up was still my greatest concern.

I watched as every movement from the waitresses seemed to create a reaction from old Babo.  I thought I was on edge, but watching his exaggerated expressions made me feel somehow more at ease.  I couldn’t understand a word  he was saying, but his face and hands told the whole story.  I sensed I was being watched at that moment and turned my head towards the feeling.  When I caught her, the elderly woman looked down at her coffee, purposefully slow.  What was that about?  I suddenly felt guilty.  Could she tell?  No way.  Was it because I wasn’t wearing a wedding ring?  We couldn’t afford one.  John and I decided to wait until he was at least a few months into his new fancy job.

We were still so young.  We had only been married four months and still getting to know one another.  Would he be happy?  I’m sure I was worried for nothing, but I am a naturally paranoid person.  My paranoia began to peek when he still hadn’t arrived.  Queens wasn’t that far from the airport.  Just then, I saw him rush in through the door.  I watched as he quickly scanned the restaurant for me.  I raised my hand and he offered me a wide smile.  God, he was beautiful.  He was dressed in a form fitting leisure suit.  Everyone dressed up to fly.  It was all very out-of-my-league.   He sat down and I could immediately feel his energy.  He seemed happy.  “Hello, darling,” he said.  I returned the warm greeting.

Then blurted, “I’m pregnant.”

 

Photo credit:  www.tintandgraphics.com  Deciding on an image was tough because I didn’t want to give anything away, such as the time and place I was trying to describe.  I wanted my words to be used to figure this out and not have the picture do it for me.  The challenge was to write a setting for the following scene:  A man and his wife meet for lunch in a diner on August 5th, 1970, in New York City. She’s pregnant and plans to spill the beans over lunch.

Below are other great responses to this challenge:

  1. Icezine
  2. Loyal muse
  3. Mary J Melange
  4. Epic Blog
  5. Rolbos
  6. Haiverer
  7. Late-Night Ruminations
  8. SERENDIPITY
  9. Cream Cheese, Bread & World Peace
  10. This is ME, you know.
  11. Project Momentarily
  12. Shawn’s Open Journal…
  13. In the life of Sara…
  14. Wridings
  15. A Fragile Line

 


10 Comments

A key, a whistle and a Post-it.

Flash Fiction Writing Challenge:

I sat at the table in our small hallway of a kitchen.  It’s the kind of table you’d find in a dusty diner somewhere off Highway 50.  A place time had long forgotten.  I was lost in thought for what seemed like hours until my eyes decided to focus across the room onto the cheap vinyl that was curling at the edges.  Even the floor was trying to escape this place.  I gently tapped the table with the key I had been gripping.  I swear I had a metallic taste in my mouth just from holding it.  My eyes wandered up the wall to watch the whistle on a string.  It was hanging on a nail and just barely swaying back and forth from the fan above.  The fan that had a thick layer of dust clinging for dear life on each tired blade.  The whistle was red for Dodge Ball Wednesday’s.  Today was Tuesday.  He’s a gym teacher at a middle school.  He thinks he’s such hot shit.  He lived for Wednesday’s.  I could just picture his pastie white skin contorting as he yells and blows that stupid whistle.  His face always seems to have a sweaty gleam to it that grosses me out.   I turn to my tapping hand and see a lone blank Post-it stuck to the marbled laminate.  It mocks me.  There is nothing here for me.  Could leaving be as easy as peeling this small piece of paper off the table?  I set the key on the Post-it.  The screen door makes a high-pitched groan behind me.  It sounded almost…happy.

 

Photo Courtesy of Flickr

 

Enjoy other Flash Fiction challenge responses from other bloggers here  (in the list below)

The WordPress C(h)ronicle Flash Fiction

Grit & Satin Can I Lay By Your Side?

Pippakin Around the World Flash Fiction

U Be Cute Karmic wine glass Six Word Story |

Finding My Own Way 2 Six Word Stories

nirupamaprv Flash fiction: Six words

Obsessive Compulsive Running……. Reflected light…..

The Ambitious Drifter Flash Fiction

Challenging Me Flash fiction- Six Words

Sweat, Tears and Digital Ink More Six Word Stories

Gary Holdaway The Shaman

Flash Fiction – Six Words “Last Shot”

peacefulblessedstar Changing Cells-The Daily Post (Flash Fiction)

Character Kaleidoscope The Swallow Sisters

Welcome to my 20-something life… Good Morning

melissuhhsmiles Cabin in the Woods

risingrave28 Rave

ALIEN AURA’S BLOG: IT’LL BLOW YOUR MIND! Flash Fiction: 6 and 300, Weekly Writing Challenge

Dancing with Fireflies Take the Flash Fiction Challenge with me!

Mary J Melange Round and Around…

Flash Fiction – Six Words “Predator”

Just Be V The Daily Post Weekly Writing Challenge: Flash Fiction

Dancing with Fireflies “The Widow on the Hill” ( Flash Fiction Piece ) jessicagadziala

Pencil Jargon Flash Fiction: Six Words

B.Kaotic The Storm.

the intrinsickness Family Reunion

Jean Reinhardt Flash Fiction

Corinthia Lynne Six Word Stories

MainelyButch: Butch Lesbian Perspectives Momma Cried

The Days and Nights of KashmirGirl1976 Lost Potential

Ramblings of a Wildcat Six-Word Story

Daisies from Dust While She Sleeps cateritforward The Electric Gulag

The Bohemian Rock Star’s “Untitled Project” 100 word romance

Me – Who am I? Running The Great Race

Me – Who am I? The Great Race

chey being A key, a whistle and a Post-it.

Late~Night Ruminations DP Flash Fiction: The Biggest Loser

Tonkadella’s Things in Life flash fiction

Book Musings Flash Fiction – Death Sentence

A Simple Note Ghosts

shape shifting dp challenge flash fiction: the bowl of stones

experiments with happiness Day 33 – Black Dog

The Quirky Life of P A Six-Word Story

MARGARET ROSE STRINGER Weekly Writing Challenge: Flash Fiction

Saving My Life: Breaking The Yo-Yo Weekly Writing Challenge: Flash Fiction

psychologistmimi Flash Fiction: The second sister had no hand-me-downs

scarlett cager Flash Fiction

Shakespeare’s Sugar Spun Sister Six Words, Not One In Mind.

the intrinsickness Brantley

crochetime A six word story Write now?

At Home in New Hampshire The Radius – Daily Press Flash Fiction

Mindful Digressions A twofer

Tech Girl Weirdest Proposal

Write now? His Smile – Daily Post, Flash Fiction

The Matticus Kingdom not yet ready

Thin spiral notebook A salty lullaby

A mom’s blog Cinderella and the Designer Shoes

Rebecca Barray – Writer/Photographer Retail Therapy – A Six-Word Story

TedBook Friday Fictioneers: CHERYL DOES A JIGSAW

zaphnathpaaneah Till Death

Artfully Aspiring A Crescendo of Cries

The Shady Tree The Lantern

Pulsar Passages Love, Short and Sweet

A Hedonistic Wander Writing Challenge: Flash Fiction #1

baylie that. Flash Fiction

loyal muse 1

Eclecticfemale’s Blog The One In The Elevator

Bonum in Libero Together

Joan T. Warren More Than Words

Mermaid’s tresses Our mushrooming adventure

Bees and Beowulf Weekly Writing Challenge: Flash Fiction

Project Momentarily Flash fiction: My heart’s on fire

Thoughtless Prattler Flash Fiction : Six word story

Finale to an Entrance Pantry Parables: Fish Sticks

hello from Sandy Well, You Never Loved Me Anyway

Craig Towsley Disobedience

The Chaos Within A favor is all he did

Deb’s world Weekly writing challenge: flash fiction/six word story

The sea and me Six words- one wish

Eclectic Alli In which 100 pages becomes 300 words…

The D/A Dialogues Greed

Craig Towsley Six Words

PujaMohan My Pride and Joy

Lead us from the Unreal to the Real Darkness Finds Us

the relative cartographer Slash and Burn

A Hedonistic Wander Writing Challenge: Flash Fiction #2

Life’s Unfiltered Ramblings One More Chance

North Idaho Stories The Interview Question

loyal muse 2

Corned Beef Hashtag Meesa and the Gremlin

A Bipolars Reality Hettie Wins The Lottery

wuthering bites Jack-of-clubs

lazymoan Little Life – A Story

Words We Women Write WRITING CHALLENGE: FLASH FICTION

Emovere Six Words Stories

Scarytales Intruder

Never Nothing Going On In Sixes

thejimmieG The Gruber

field of thorns Glassed Tears

spirit grind calling all guards

A View From My Summerhouse Letting Go

Teach, learn, write Happy Dogs Don’t Bark at Clouds

In my world Weekly Writing Challenge: Flash fiction

Stories from aside The days of yesteryear

Life of Srish Right Person

Creo Somnium Squeezing My Arms Around… Flast Fiction

North Idaho Stories He

A Boisterous Life The Ominous Six

asnappshot Weekly Writing Challenge:

A Maniac’s Menagerie of Motley Thoughts DP Challenge: Flash Fiction

Susan’s Loves, Books, and Coffee Watch out!

Within The Cypress Forest A teddy bear

This is who I am… Writing challenge: Flash Fiction

Living in the Moment Saved

Properly Ridiculous Breaking Point

A Wilderness of Words Until a tiny thing trips you up (Flash Fiction)

Dance With Madness Hope in the Form of Light

SA:ME (사메) Flash Fiction – My Imagination in 6 Words

Life with Tess Once Upon a Time … A Short Story about Romance

Life. In Light Of Eternity. SnapPost #2 – The rise of a hero

scarlett cager In the Afternoon Field

scarlett cager Six Word Story: The Centaur

Picasso Plate Six Word Story: Gold

lovehappynotes What Cats really think of Russell Crowe

A Boisterous Life A Necessary Reset

Bright Tuesday Flash Fiction Friday — The Storm

Life is great The victim – six words flash fiction

Shawn’s Open Journal Cavern

HavenTales Weekly Writing Challenge : Flash Fiction – “Guardian”

thebonegarden War Frost (Flash Fiction DP Challenge)

One Pink Rose The Goat In The Arm Chair

FREE BIRD Comfort Zone Namesake I am sorry Dad, I am not like you || fifty-word stories #3The Quirky Life of P P…, P…, Quite Contrary, How Does Your Garden Grow?

alienisme A Week Later

Tech Girl It’s a new start


14 Comments

The free ticket. (Time Machine Challenge)

I am surrounded.  People of all shapes and sizes are pointed at me like beams of light.  The lights bend only slightly when they reach me and then continue, as if they never felt the glitch.  I am making my way up some famous street near Times Square.  It is almost dark now and the lights begin to wake up for their evening show just as the crowds thicken and deepen.   I don’t know why I am here.  I felt alone, I suppose.  I needed to escape my humming cold-blooded space that allowed any old thought to enter.  Feeling the warm bodies brush by me, reminds me that I am not alone here. There are others.  I miss my family and so these embodied souls will have to do.

I try to look into the eyes of those who pass me.  I offer a warm smile.  Some reciprocate, some do not, as if they are too busy to turn up the corner of their mouth.  I don’t mind, it makes me laugh.  I continue on my mindless path, staying within the crowds and oddly feeling secure there.  Every now and then a paper is shoved my way by some fast talker on repeat.  I politely decline.  I am focused on an adorable little boy ahead of me, whose squishy face is agape at the flashing lights.  As I wonder the meaning behind his questioning eyes, I vaguely hear, “Free ticket to where ever you want to go!”  I hear it as I would background music, hearing but not really comprehending.  It is the jolt of electricity as the paper skims my mid-section, that brings me to the present. My eyes follow the hand connected to the paper and stop at a face that doesn’t seem to belong here. He repeats his mantra while our eyes connect.  By some force I can not explain, I accept the paper as the momentum of the crowd pushes me forward.  I dismiss the unusual event and slip the paper in my pocket, not wanting to liter.

I am home now.  I feel spent.  My body is ready for sleep and my mind has raised the white flag in defeat.  As I slip off my jeans, I hear the crinkle of paper.  I remove the culprit and gently smooth it out between my fingers. It reads only, “Free ticket.  Where do you want to go?”  I flip it over expecting more, but it is blank.  It’s so odd that I am unable to look away.  I feel cold now standing here in only my t-shirt, so I quickly tuck myself into bed and under the billowy covers.  As I lean back and gently mold into the stack of pillows, I stare at the paper still in my hand.  I read it over and over.  I feel it almost hypnotizing me; challenging me with its question.  Where do you want to go?

Ok, I’ll play along.  Where do I want to go?  Hmm, Italy sounds lovely.  Rolling vineyards, architecture, food so unbelievably fresh yet you can taste its centuries old origin, it is endless and intoxicating.  As inviting as that sounds, what would I learn? How would it change my life?  There are hundreds upon hundreds of beautiful places I want to visit; I would never be able to choose.  Maybe, I should meet a famous person from long ago.  I’ve always had a fascination with Henry VIII.  Einstein, perhaps?  Ghandi? Can I meet Jesus? I can read about them and know their life lessons, so maybe not. How about the future?  The future seems frightening; I don’t think I want to know the future. If it’s horrible, how could I enjoy each day knowing my fate, or the fate of the world?  A past event? I’ve always felt a deep connection with American Indians.  That would be fascinating!  But, I can read about that too.  I’m feeling a bit frustrated.  What is wrong with me that I can not think of a single…wait, I know.  I know where I want to go.

I want to be where I will go when I die.  If I have lived before, I have actually already been there, but I just don’t remember.  If I go to this place, I am everywhere at every time, all in one moment.  It is the most perfect choice.  I want to remember this place. This place will remind me to have no fear. Remind me that I am never alone.  Remind me that all my lost loved ones are still with me.  Remind me that I am beautiful and perfect as I am.  I can feel it.  My tears tickle my nose as they find their path down my face.  I feel love.  I feel so much love.  Am I there?

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/31/writing-challenge-time-machine/

 

I posted the above awhile back but I wanted to add these other great responses to the challenge:

  1. A Random Short Story | Musings | WANGSGARD
  2. Second Time Around: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn | Never Stationary
  3. Housecleaning 1900′s Style | The Library Lady and Rosie Bear
  4. I grew up on an island. How did I never read this? | Andrea Reads America
  5. Weekly Writing Challenge: Time Machine | The WordPress C(h)ronicle
  6. The Day Before the Snowdryft | Project eXa
  7. My dream trip | Myriad Notions
  8. Weekly Writing Challenge: Time Machine | In my world
  9. One Night In Summer | Fish Of Gold
  10. Hallowed Canaries | field of thorns
  11. Labor Day Weekend, 2011 | Simple Heart Girl
  12. Memorial Day Weekend, 2011 | Simple Heart Girl
  13. On the Steps of the Lincoln Memorial | Lead us from the Unreal to the Real
  14. Going Back at Birth | Navigate
  15. DP Challenge – The tale of the Hiry Mammoth | Properties for sale in Cuba
  16. DP Challenge – The tale of the Hairy Mammoth | Properties for sale in Cuba
  17. Day 280: If I Had a DeLorean | Writer’s Desk
  18. To go back in time… | adventuresofaneverydaywoman
  19. The free ticket. | chey4412
  20. Weekly Writing Challenge: Time Machine | Ramblings of a Midwest 20-Something
  21. Weekly Writing Challenge : Time Machine | Simply about Life
  22. Time machine | Icezine
  23. In Our Hands | risingrave28
  24. A Peek Into My Past | Ninjas In Stitches
  25. Time Machine | Thinking Languages!
  26. The Deep Time Society: Imagining Academia and Time Travel | THIS CREATIVE REALITY
  27. The Race. « Restawyle
  28. Sulfur Island | Speculative Paradigm Shifts
  29. Time Machine | jenniferannefleming
  30. Weekly Writing Challenge: Time Machine | imagination
  31. Dark? Ages | I’m a Writer, Yes I Am
  32. I’m Happy Being In The Present, Thank You Very Much! | Sammi Talk
  33. Weekly Writing Challenge: Time Machine | The Rambling Rose
  34. The Girl in the hammock | thejimmieG
  35. Among the Whispers
  36. Weekly Writing Challenge: Time Machine | Sarah’s World
  37. The Metal File | lostinthisdaydream
  38. The Conversation | The 253 in the 402
  39. On Train Tracks & Stopwatches | Hullabaloo and Susie Too
  40. My Time Machine | waltbox
  41. Long In Tooth | A lot from Lydia
  42. What if I could travel through time? | Okay, What if ?
  43. A Trip to the Doctor | The Seeker’s Dungeon
  44. Bali, 1938 | A Simple Note
  45. TIME MACHINE- 50′s Dance | The School Of Minds
  46. Looking Back: The Day I Should Have Left | Between Madness & Euphoria
  47. We Can’t Turn Back Time | I’m no stargirl
  48. Daily Post Weekly Writing Challenge | Christine Morgan River
  49. xyz | Layperson’s Outlook
  50. xyz | Layperson’s Outlook
  51. Weekly Writing Challenge: Time Machine | Old Glory | Shawn
  52. Royal Male | litadoolan
  53. What if we can Travel Through Time. | Free Thinkers Mag.
  54. Endure. Breathe. (Repeat) | MightWar
  55. Weekly Writing Challenge | Time Travel | Focal Breeze
  56. cycle lost | Just Thinking
  57. Time traveling to my younger self | MindBodyBreath Malaysia – Yoga in Shah Alam
  58. Time Machine | The Colours of Life
  59. Coherence Insults My Intelligence | Bumblepuppies
  60. Letter to My Future Self | the intrinsickness
  61. Turn Back the Time #fiction #addiction | Moondustwriter’s Blog
  62. Two Tone Memory | Notes of a Prairie Lotus
  63. Nature’s Second Chance | Wired With Words
  64. Weekly writing challenge | THE BIG MUNCH
  65. Thoughts Tuning Tim | A Nerdy Geek’s blog
  66. Urban Living in the Year 3000 | A Life with Limits
  67. The Future is Yesterday | cateritforward
  68. Creating Ticonae | Artfully Aspiring
  69. A no-brainer for every earth scientist: time travel! | EARTH SCIENCE SOCIETY
  70. Well, I’m Going to Hell. | meg lago
  71. Nancy: Weekly Writing Challenge | Ty
  72. How I Became a Storyteller | Pocket-Sized Musings
  73. the past and the future | whimsical mayhem
  74. The Never Know | Time Travel Writing Challenge | The Never Chronicles
  75. A Walk in the Past | Eclectic Alli
  76. Say That Again | Master of Something I’m Yet To Discover
  77. Weekly Writing Challenge: Time Machine | Reflections and Nightmares- Irene A Waters (writer and memoirist)
  78. Time Machine | Love is always there. Between the lines.
  79. Time Machine? No Thanks. | Laughing Through Life
  80. How to deal with bad managers: Life Skills | Your Well Wisher Program
  81. “The Contact” | Lekhikaa’s diary
  82. DP Challenge: Time Travel Free Pass | This Natasha Life
  83. Mental Time Travel | Psychology Muffins
  84. A Time to Every Purpose | Love, Support, Educate, Advocate, Accept…
  85. Pneumatic | Be Less Amazing
  86. Back in Time | itsmayurremember
  87. The Execution of Mary the Elephant: The 13th of September 1916 – Erwin, Tennessee | Forgotten Correspondence
  88. Time Travel is not what it used to be | An Upturned Soul
  89. Temporal Corrections Agency | Musings of a Soul Eclectic
  90. Back to roots | Scent of Rina
  91. Time Machine | Write Through Life
  92. The Badge – Compass & Quill
  93. Where am I? | A picture is worth 1000 words
  94. Conversations with a 5 Year Old | Getting DCK for Dummies
  95. I Know You Are but What Am I? « eternal Domnation
  96. Time Machine; A Trip Down Memory Lane | Insidethelifeofmoi
  97. Then or Now? | The Silver Leaf Journal
  98. Weekly Writing Challenge: Time Machine, 03.04.14 | Markie’s Daily Blog
  99. Land of Regret | Glorious Results Of A Misspent Youth
  100. Trippin’ | Glorious Results Of A Misspent Youth