The Choice

November 30, 2017, Carrot Ranch prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes self-care. Does the character need it? What does the character do? Think about how you can use this action to deepen a character or move a story. Go where the prompt leads.

Respond by December 7, 2017, to be included in the compilation (published December 8). Rules are here. All writers are welcome!


Grief affects everyone differently. There is no rhyme or reason as to how one should deal with grief or loss either. It’s up to the person to come to grips with the passing of those we love. It’s never easy.

I’ve recently been dealing with the passing of my beloved dogs. It’s the loss that is hard to deal with – the starting over and changing one’s reality from what it used to be. I felt lost…

However, I am an optimist always looking forward. What I discovered and what soothed and restored me was meditation. I liken it to healing myself from the inside out. That desire to rebuild and heal prompted this piece. ❤

The Choice

Painful sobs wracked her body while anguished cries escaped from her throat with an unrecognized resonance. She finally understood that death in its malevolence took what it desired leaving an emptiness in its wake. She knew she needed to survive by moving forward or she’d perish.

Nearby, the crystals beckoned to her emitting an ethereal glow. Meditate, they whispered. Align your chakras and feel your healing life force restored. She sat, quieting her breath, slipping into a meditative state. Her breath inhaled the restorative energy while exhaling the grief and loss.

Revitalized by love, she accepted a new path.

Thanks for stopping by. ❤

Spice – The Tiny Dog Who Stole Our Hearts

Spice, Colorado 2017

It is with sad and heavy hearts Ron, and I must share that our beloved Spice left this world Wednesday night. Spice was Ron’s dog mainly, and along with her sister, Sugar, nursed Ron through bladder and prostate cancer. She was loyal and loving and will live in our hearts forever. Our lives were better because of her sweet soul. 

When Ron found her in her crate that morning, her tag had become lodged in the metal grate of the door. It appeared she couldn’t get it loose. She was diagnosed with a collapsed trachea many years ago and at 13 ½ years old, she had been having more problems. In dog years she was 91, spunky, yet frail. I can only hope and pray that her passing did not allow her to suffer.

Both dogs had been crate-trained for ‘sleeping only’ since they were born in Montana. For such an odd thing to occur breaks our hearts. Her sister, Sugar is lost without her. The dogs had only been separated twice for overnight stays at the vet. Sugar suffers from diabetes and is frail too. The first thing I did was take Sugar’s collar and tag off.


Sugar & Spice 2011, Montana

Our pain is inconsolable. We got these two magnificent girls in 2004 when they were 4 months old. Spice was the runt of the litter, and sugar was a roly-poly fluff ball. My husband had only months before undergone radical surgery for bladder and prostate cancer. He spent the days alone while I worked many long hours as a bookkeeper/estate paralegal. I knew the two dogs would require him to get up out of his chair and give him something to care for. It worked. The life came back into his eyes, and he was ready to experience life again.

How do you thank two little souls for giving you the most precious things in life: loyalty, unconditional love, and kindness? From the day we got them in May 2004, they have filled our lives with joy.


Sugar, Ron, and Spice, Florida 2015

I have struggled with the writing of The Meadow Fairy and wasn’t sure why. I am an empathic writer, and there has been so much unrest in the world. These things affect me deeply. It seemed that certain things had to happen in the universe and in my life in order for me to add them into Abby’s new story. I don’t question how or why this happens any longer. I just wait, and then, I write.

Yesterday, I knew that the only way I could pay tribute to our beloved girls was to write them into the story so they could remain immortal on paper. In this way, their personalities will shine and spread love and joy to others.

Spice’s ashes will come back to us so that we still have a bit of her with us. Her spirit has joined the collective, and I know we will see her again, in another place, and time.

Love,

Ron and Colleen


“Edge of a Cliff,” by Anjana Pradeep

Please meet Anjana, who graciously accepted my invite to be guest blogger today.


I post short stories every Saturday and an article/non-fiction every Wednesday.
Make sure you check in. I am open to collabs and guest posts.
Contact me via email : anjanapradeep94@gmail.com

Without further ado, check out my stories by selecting “Fiction (Short Stories)” from the category or just click here.

To check out others select “Brain Rants” from categories of just click here.
Feel free to comment on any (or all) of my posts.

 

She stood there, at the edge of a cliff.

Green was all she saw. Miles and miles of continuous canopy, like it was all just one big tree. For days she stood there, waiting for a sign. A sign from the universe to tell her it was a mistake.

“What if there is no after life?

What if there is no heaven?

Or even worse, what if there is a heaven!

Will he still love her after all that she put him through?

Maybe he found someone better in heaven… she chuckled at her own silly thought.

He would never do that to her.

On this day two years ago, she stood in front of a tall shelf filled with old books as her mind secretly missed the big libraries in the city. “Twelfth night, or what you will by Shakespeare” were the golden letters on brown leather that gave her butterflies in her stomach. The old man that owned this book, died recently and now his son had taken over. She went to the counter to pay for the book and there he was in all his glory. He smiled at her, his blue eyes as deep as the ocean. Little did she know that he would be the one to make her walls come down.

But now, robbed of all the joys in life. She stood there, at the edge of a cliff. Waiting for a sign. A sign to tell her this was a mistake.

“He must be waiting for me in heaven.” Her mind wandered again.

It was 2 am in the morning. She was throwing things at him, yelling at him for coming home late and drunk. “It was an office party and I just couldn’t refuse. I am sorry honey. I swear I tried to reach here as soon as I could” he mumbled. “Yes, 2 am is very early! Did you forget that all our friends were coming over? Did you even for a minute consider the embarrassment you were putting me through by not showing up at our anniversary dinner?!” she burst into tears. “This is not the first time! Why do you keep doing this to me? I can’t take this anymore. I think we need to go our separate ways “. “But honey,” he started. “For God’s sake just leave me alone!” she screamed overcome with anger and despair.

He took his keys and walked towards the door. “I am sure you’ll change your mind in the morning” he said.

He never came back.

She stood there at the edge of a cliff. Holding the paper that had the report of the accident. The autopsy showed he was drunk and hence everyone blamed him for his own death. Some people went to the extent of saying that people like him deserved to die. What do they know? If only she had listened to him. If only she had swallowed her pride for a second. He would have been here, holding her in his arms.

A cold wind brushed her grief-stricken face. She was scared to go, but there was no sign that said she was wrong. It’s the right thing to do. It’s the only thing to do. I can’t live without him. I know he is waiting for me”. She let the wind carry her down.

The bright light was almost blinding. It was impossible to see. She felt his presence next to her. She opened her eyes. He smiled at her, his blue eyes as deep as the ocean.

Find Anjana on her blog, The Mental Picture and on Twitter.