"Autism & Memoirs of an Old Maid"…C'hele's Story

January 31, 2009

Haiku Poetry (my attempt at)

Filed under: Poetry — C'hele @ 22:02

Dark, smoky blue clouds

Meet with tall evergreen trees

Some red sky still glows



A Short Story – The Buried Treasure

Filed under: short stories — C'hele @ 10:49

Bored out of her mind, Melissa sat outside on the wet lawn in the backyard one cold, rainy day. Equipped with nothing but a hand shovel, she picked at the lawn until she reached the dark, clay earth. She had nothing to do, so why not continue? The picking eventually became full scoopfuls of dirt. Focusing on the odour of the rich earth, she wondered, “would I find anything interesting buried deep within the dirt?” She was told that the four-plex and neighbouring homes were built on ancient Indian ground now owned by the government. She heard rumours that it had once been an ancient aboriginal burial ground hundreds of years ago. Would she find anything? Bones? Jewellery? Gold? Buried treasure? Her eyes widened at the potential possibilities. Her excitement was building along with her imagination. It wasn’t long before a very large pile of dirt lay beside her and the hole in front of her was at least two feet deep. Looking towards her ground level apartment, Melissa noticed her parents staring back at her from the kitchen window in disbelief. With a look of pure excitement, she pointed towards the hole in a jabbing motion. She kept digging until she heard a muffled clang. Holding her breath in pure exhilaration, she began to dig further. Slowly, with her fingers, she brushed away some dirt until she could make out a few letters.

“Oh, my God,” she thought. “We’re gonna be rich!”

Convinced that she had found buried treasure, she ran towards the house to fetch her parents. Filthy from head to toe in mud and soaked to the bone, her father refused to let her in. Mel was so excited that she could hardly get the words out to her dad what she thought she had found. Dragging her dad out in the now pouring rain, she brought him before the hole. Dropping to her knees, she pointed to the letters on the object.

“See? Dad! I found buried treasure!!!! We’re gonna be rich!”

Melissa’s fathers eyes were fixated on the object in the ground. Suddenly, his eyes widened in alarm.

“Melissa! That’s not buried treasure honey! That’s a gas pipe!!! You need to stop banging it with the shovel!!”

Completely devastated and deeply embarrassed, Melissa turned and walked towards the house as her father patched up the hole with the pile of dirt beside it. Defeated, Melissa removed her dirty clothes and threw them in the hamper. Immediately putting on her p.j’s., Mel then closed the curtains in her room and crawled into bed. It was only two o’ clock in the afternoon. A few minutes later, her mom came into the room with a steaming cup of hot cocoa and a few cookies. Placing them down on the table beside the bed, she commented:

“It was a nice thought you know. It would have been neat to have found something so important and become rich because of it.”

And with that, she turned and left the room.

With hands under her head, Melissa thought to herself; “Yeah, it would have been neat. Tomorrow, I’m going to start digging behind the garage instead. I‘m almost sure that there are Dinosaur bones buried somewhere behind there.“ Mel’s motto was after all, “Patience is a virtue.” The next step? Hiring more hands to dig. The pop bottles she had collected and saved, should be enough to cover that.


January 30, 2009

A Short Story – The Eagle’s Feather

Filed under: short stories — C'hele @ 06:11
The store is located in an older part of the municipality. Entering through the doorway, one immediately notices the shadowy, amber lighting and the lingering, heavy scent of burnt cedar and sage. Walking ahead of the front door, one cannot help but take notice of the battered antique tables, shelves and other assorted antique objects. Its so cluttered inside. There are books piled in various places within the store in disarrayed stacks. I assume that they are used books for sale. Its difficult to distinguish the kind of store this is due to the dusky lighting and the hazy fog veiling the atmosphere. Intrigued, I walked a few feet ahead and looked over my left shoulder. I take note of a woman approximately ten years older than myself standing at a counter. There are old, round, decorative plates scattered in no particular order, all over the counter top and filled with various semi-precious stones, assorted divination cards and other small interesting knick-knacks. With a huge smile on her face, the woman asks me how I am doing.

“Its been a long time since I’ve seen you last,” she said.

Slanting my head sideways, I observe her with a puzzled look and question her, “has it?”

“I met you a long time ago in a store similar to this one. You can help me with mine if you want to,” she replied.

Squinting my eyes, I try to look deeper within the store but still cannot clearly observe the surroundings. The smudged-smoky air was too thick. It looked anything but the store I once worked in. Looking back at the woman behind the counter, I smile sheepishly and tell her, “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”

Smiling, the woman tells me: “You gave me a beautiful blue coloured Beatitudes bracelet once. I never forgot your kindness.”

Walking around the counter to stand in front of me she says, “I have something special to show and give you. I know you’ve wanted one for a long time.”

I follow her into another adjoining room and observe that it is as cluttered as the main store room. Looking at the far wall, I observe a single, large, and perfectly formed Eagles feather leaning up against it. The feather was inserted into a large, colourfully bundled smudge stick that lay atop a huge and beautiful iridescent coloured Abalone shell. I stare at it in disbelief.

“How did she know that I’ve always wanted an Eagles feather?” I thought to myself.

Suddenly, I am humbled. The kindness that I had once bestowed to this woman had been forgotten. But, the universe didn’t forget.


January 28, 2009

A Short Story from a Novice Architect Eyes…

Filed under: short stories — C'hele @ 06:50

The misty, cold, and dismal day called for some serious creative work or she‘d go mad. Walking into the room, the novice architect critically viewed the small expanse before her. It would be a challenge to secure the many corner foundations of her assignment. After all, she had only two blankets in which to shape her project. The question was; how to do it without damaging the materials. She would need to locate additional and forbidden but necessary materials. With an uncertain look on her face, she pondered on the negative consequences that most likely she would have to face. She was resolute: she would risk any potential, negative consequences of her actions. Lifting her chin up with determination, she convinced herself that once her masterpiece was finished, the landlord would of course, forgive her of any transgressions. She was sure of it. It would be a work of art!

Unnoticed, the architect retrieved the two blankets from the hallway closet and ran to the secreted place and positioned them under her bunk-bed. Quietly walking to the doorway, she poked her head out from the archway and made sure the way was clear of any potential intruders. Running to another hallway closet, the architect cautiously snatched a broom and a pail full of clothes pins. Slowly backing out of the cloakroom, she tip-toed back to her creative space. Evaluating the areas that would most secure her structure, the blankets were laid out accordingly. Pinned together by the clothespins, the structure slowly manifested. Carefully crawling beneath the blankets, the main supporting beam, the broom, was placed in the centre of the soon to be structure. Slowly, lifting the broom upright, the structure finally evolved. Success! It didn’t collapse. Running to her bed and ripping off the bed quilt, she carefully laid it out on the floor under her new structure. Quickly fetching her sleeping bag, pillow, t.v., and her cat bed before the evil one could stop her, she placed them accordingly under her Arabian tent.

Turning the t.v. on, and settling quite comfortably within her sleeping bag, she jolted with a sudden realization: she better show and convince her landlord to keep the new structure.

Needless to say, she was more than successful. Her exotic Arabian tent was allowed to remain until the next wash day.

January 27, 2009

Detective Work Excersice

Filed under: Writing Exercises — C'hele @ 04:46

Exercise: Doing Detective Work To Unblock Creativity

Learning the art of free-association:

1. My favourite childhood toy was…..the outdoors

2. My favourite childhood game was…..playing anything outside

3. The best movie I ever saw as a kid was…..”Grease”

4. I don’t do it much but I enjoy….. Going to the Orpheum, watching more opera’s and watching live comedy.

5. If I could lighten up a little, I’d let myself…..go. Completely. Intentionally. Wisely.

6. If it weren’t too late, I’d…..have a degree and one hell of a profession.

7. My favourite musical instrument is…..the harp

8. The amount of money I spend on treating myself to entertainment each month is…..enough so Caela and I go out at least every two weeks for dinner to our favourite Indian restaurant and a movie.

9. If I weren’t so stingy with my inner artist, I’d buy myself some more “how to paint” books and make more time to actually paint.

10. Taking time out for myself is…..being completely by myself whatever it is that I decide I want to do.

11. I’m afraid that if I start dreaming…..I’ll go into a coma and never come back.

12. I secretly enjoy reading…..well, that’s a secret! (And no, its not inappropriate!)

13. If I had a perfect childhood I’d have grown up to be an….. archaeologist.

14. If it didn’t sound so crazy, I’d write or create a…..poem in the Elv-ish language (according to the Lord of the Rings).

15. My parents think artists are…..actually, I don’t know the answer to that question.

16. My God thinks artists are…..manifestations of the divine (and I must add: they are the people who are here on this earth and don’t want to be).

17. What makes me feel weird about this recovery exercise is…..the questions feel irrelevant and useless but I know they’re not.

18. Learning to trust myself is probably……the best thing I can do for myself.

19. My most cheer-me-up music is…..Dean Martin

20. My favourite way to dress is…..classic, natural, siren-ish.

January 25, 2009

Speed Writing Exercise

Filed under: Writing Exercises — C'hele @ 21:35

Speed Writing: the goal is to write down the following phrases as quickly as you can: “I wish____________”

This was what I came up with:

I wish the world was a more happier place

I wish I would never feel oppression, unhappiness

I wish I would never age

I wish I could live a more comfier life

I wish that the seasons never change its magnificence

I wish that I had a Siberian Husky

I wish I had enough money in the bank so I never have to worry about paying bills

I wish I had nice clothes

I wish I had a man in my life. The right man.

I wish that I had a nice cottage by the sea on acreage

I wish that I had a business similar to Serendipities Backyard- the way it was six years ago

I wish that I knew who God really was

I wish that I wasn’t so tired all the time

I wish that I could travel

I wish that there were more flowers and trees around in the world

I wish that people could feel better about their own lives so that they would smile more

I wish that cancer would disappear in the world

I wish that my daughter will be safe, comfortable and happy when I am dead and gone

I wish that the bad luck that has plagued me my whole life would just disappear

I wish that I had time to paint more

I wish that I could sing

I most especially wish that I would laugh more in life

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