Category: writing

writing

Morning Fog

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

A ghostly white fog covers the lake. The far shore sits, I know, but it is unseen. A muggy wind blows; the day is confused. Will it be warm or cold, sunny or gray?

I slide the window shade up for a better view; then slide the window pane up for my friend who is pawing at my feet. He jumps up on his stand, then settles in.

A motion in the grass just outside catches his attention. His body stills and a quiet meh comes from his mouth. A small finch captures his attention as it seeks out grubs for breakfast.

His head arches upward as the bird takes flight. He settles back down and stretches out, resting his sweet little face on his paws. His face is still kittenish even at his senior age of eight.

His litter mate comes up behind us both and taps my foot with her paw. A demanding mew echoes causing brother to jump a bit. I look down at my other ball of fur.

She taps then mews again, then beckons me to follow her to the wellspring for a sip of glorious nectar. For us humans, this is known as the bathtub and water, respectively. I give into her request as she has trained me, then pet her head.

I return to the bedroom after a moment and spy the fog lifting. No matter what the weather brings, I know. It’s going to be a wonderful Saturday.

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writing

Give Me Your Blood

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

The vampires prepare their instruments of torture. Shiny needles and plastic tubes, elastic bands and alcohol swabs.

Their victims willingly line up, one by one, waiting their turn. The large leather seats await for their next victim.

I slide into the seat, and they lower the gate, sealing me in. I extend my arm, my right arm, which confuses the vampire for but a moment.

They swab my arm. I swear I see their eye teeth pop out for a split second. The teeth snap back as they smile at me.

The swab is cool against my skin. They flick the inside of my elbow. The blood pumps harder as the vein rises to the surface. It’s a healthy one. The vampire drools.

I look away as they pierce my skin and begin to suck out the red swirling juice. I hear them breathe heavily, almost panting, longing for just a drop.

They take more and more blood. I feel drained. Finally they stop and withdraw their torture device from my arm. They wrap my elbow lovingly, thanking me for feeding their desires.

Finally they release the gate which had entrapped me. However, they deliver one final blow. They hand me the dreaded cup. I whimper; it is the only thing worse than donating to the vampires.

Aren’t labs so much fun? Thank a phlebotomist today!

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writing

Morning Chill

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

Coldness seeped over her toes and soles as she stepped onto the paver lined drive. A crisp wind tousled her hair. The chirps of birds echoed from the large oak before her. They darted in and out between the branches, dancing in the first light of the day.

A calmness came over her as her bare feet guided her across the drive. From behind and overhead, she heard the flaps of oversized feathered wings. She turned, the sun now at her back, and lifted her chin to the heavens.

Gracefully, the large grey birds swooped down, landing in the grass just across the drive. She stood frozen as to not frighten them.

Their squawks reverberated between the houses as they courted each other with a show of feathers. Their red faces bobbed and long beaks chattered like two teenagers on their first date.

Eventually they calmed and started looking for their breakfast. Slowly they wandered off in search of greener grasses or maybe grubbier ones instead.

She smiled to herself. The cranes had her attention such that she hadn’t felt the cold settle in. Now that they were gone, her attention returned. She rubbed her arms for a little warmth and made her way back inside. What a beautiful way to start the day!

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poetry, writing

Falling

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

Falling, falling, falling down,

but the bottom never finds her.

Her fear eventually turns to delight,

for she realizes she has found flight.

She sees the clouds and the sky,

but her descent does not cease,

she hits the water and continues to drift,

not needing to breathe, she sees,

turquoise waters surround her,

fish and aquatic life abound,

the sea turns into a deep sapphire blue.

Finally, the deep greens surround her.

Surely she’ll soon stop, but no,

she doesn’t as the sandy floor swallows her whole,

a portal opens and she continues the fall.

Purples and blues and flashes of lights,

the worlds around her begin to spin,

planets and moons and stars amaze her eyes,

endlessly she explores, unable to stop,

never finding the universe’s center or edge,

realizing how small we are,

how small we really all are.

Overwhelmed by insignificance,

overwhelmed by the grandeur,

part from sadness, part from joy,

slowly the tears well up in her eyes.

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writing

Little Blue Vest

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

She walked into the music room, new to the elementary school. It was her third school in a year, and each change closed her off a little more.

The teacher waved her in. “Come, take a seat.”

She looked around the room. Other kids her age sat on the floor cross-legged. She felt awkward, joining class halfway through the school year and not knowing a single person again.

The teacher handed her a brown plastic recorder. “Don’t worry, you’ll pick it up.” She smiled at her new pupil.

The girl settled in quietly and looked around the room. Blue and yellow vests lined the wall on little hooks. The room was filled with some sparse decorations showing musical notes. The carpet was itchy on her chubby legs.

She wasn’t a remarkable person and no one would ever remember her. Each music day she’d sit, learn how to hold the little plastic music instrument and eventually even read some simple music.

The class would occasionally go on trips to play for audiences. Their uniform for performances included wearing those blue and yellow vests. But, she didn’t have one…the parents made them, or bought them, at the start of the school year.

“Don’t worry. We have a couple spares, you can wear one. Wade switched schools, you can use his.”

It felt like a hand me down. She was glad that one was available, but she felt like everyone was watching her every move as she slipped it on. She hoped it didn’t look too small with her little round belly protruding out.

The seniors at the retirement home always sweetly clapped at the end of their shows. She wondered if it was because they did a good job or because they were reminded of their own grandkids.

One rainy night the next school year, her class had another performance for the holidays. It was a hard night…people were running late and nothing flowed. When she arrived with her parents, the teacher discovered the vest loaned to her wasn’t there. Nothing was going right, and this little girl already had developed a need for perfection when it came to meeting expectations. Tears welled up in her eyes.

The teacher found another vest for her and calmed her down. A classmate she didn’t know had to miss the performance that night, so she was able to use his. She calmed down and dried the tears dotting her little cheeks. This was the first time he would save her from herself…and he didn’t even know.

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poetry, writing

Somehow

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

I am here, still, for a few more years.

The times will be filled with smiles and tears.

Family and friends will come and go.

My true love stays in my heart though.

The seasons will pass, and we both age;

Our stories will write, we turn another page.

Although we can’t walk side by side now

I hope one day we find a way somehow.

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writing

They DO Exist!

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

I saw a gentleman today…

I didn’t know they still existed!

Men can be kind and good

without being a gentleman.

But today, I saw a gentleman.

He drove a sporty little car,

With a funny license plate frame.

I saw him park. He backed into the spot.

He and his companion got out and left.

I didn’t pay much mind at the time.

Other things like, waiting on a tow,

Occupied my thoughts instead.

A little while later, they returned.

That’s when I noticed,

he walked around the car.

He looked over his companion’s shoulder,

Then it happened. He opened the door for her.

It’s a small gesture, I know,

one I haven’t seen in a very long time.

It made me smile though,

Bringing back thoughts of Dad,

How he’d get the door for Mom

Without fail. I thought it was out of vogue.

I was wrong, pleasantly wrong.

I saw a gentleman today.

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writing

Fly Away – Part Three

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

A light rap on the door woke her from her slumber. A small stream of light flowed through her home from outside; the sun had risen. She slid out from her quilt and gently walked to the door. She peered outside to see Doc Jones standing on her porch.

“Good morning, Doc,” she announced as she opened the door.

Doc Jones looked her up and down, then looked at her in the face. “Good morning, Morgana. It looks like the reports of last night were correct.”

Morgana blushed. “Someone saw me hobbling home, did they?” She swung the door wide. “Come on in, I’m sure you want to take a look.” Morgana limped to the chair as Doc Jones walked over and kneeled down to check her ankle.

He carefully unwrapped her bandages. “Nice job on the wrapping. Let’s see.” He surveyed her skin noting some bruising and palpitated a few swollen spots on her ankle. Her responses were subtle winces. “Okay, looks just like a twisted ankle. Rest it for a few days and you’ll be back to a normal stride in no time.”

Morgana smiled at the doc. “Will do. Would you like some tea before you go?”

Doc Jones smiled, then shook is head no. “I have a few more people to see this morning. Illness waits for no one, not even the ol’ doc here.” He stood up and snapped his suspenders. “You rest. I’ll see myself out.”

She nodded and slightly waved as he walked out of her little hovel. On the table by her sat a small notebook and pen. She lowered her head and started to scribble notes of her thoughts from the previous night’s venture into the woods. She wrote a short poem about the doe and the buck and another about the owl’s flight.

She exhausted her creative juices about the night, then started to entertain where she would be in the future. She knew that she would head out for the mountain ridge as soon as she was able to fly once more. She looked forward to the day she could use her wings to soar back up high into the night sky, clearing that ridge, and exploring the world beyond.

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writing

Memory Lane

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

Suzy picked up the old blue Rubbermaid tote from the stacks in the garage. As the dust stirred up, she coughed a bit as she carried it back into the house. It was that time of the year, Spring cleaning in the Fall. The tote felt heavy as if it were full of lead weights.

She bobbled it a bit as she fumbled to close the door to the house behind her, then found her way to the living room. The tote hit the floor with a heavy thud. She grabbed some cleaning rags and dusted off the excess grime which had built up over the years. She wasn’t sure what was in the box…she could be diving into 20-year-old junk or treasures. She hoped for the latter as she peeled open the lid.

She smiled as she found some pictures and cards from throughout the years. Some from her ex-fiancé — she must have packed this up when they sold the house all those years ago. Those can be tossed, no more feelings are tied to them. Others from her dad, who passed years ago, as well as her mom, along with a host of friends. She smiled through some sweet tears as she looked through the cards and trinkets. She sorted through, keeping the ones that still mattered, putting the rest aside for donations that maybe others could enjoy or destined for the trash.

As she neared the bottom of the tote, a small wooden cedar box was nestled in the corner under some cards. She paused, then reached for the box. It had a lock, but the key was long gone. As she opened it, a few things came to light. A couple of boxed necklaces sat on top which no longer had meaning for her. She set those with the donations.

She unfolded some little sheets of lined papers. Crayon and pencil covered them with I Love You Sissy and drawings from when her baby sister was young. They were 12 years apart, so she had to be 16 or so when she received these little notes. She put them aside to show her sister later that week at lunch.

She flipped through all her middle and high school and college ID cards, laughing at how she wore almost the same red and white striped pattern throughout middle school. The rest were just funny to see with the big hair and bangs, along with her child-like face.

She found her little plastic owl she used to display on her car dash. She loved birds and, while she couldn’t remember where she got it from, she considered taking it and putting back in her current car for good luck.

Then she looked down. Two reminders of him sat before her. Things she couldn’t depart with even at the worst moments. His air force ring with a garnet/ruby colored stone and a pin from his preferred state University she had planned to give him, but never got it out to him. She mused to herself a few moments, wondering if he ever knew that in high school she picked the same color stone because it wasn’t just one of the school colors, but his birthstone as well. For her, it was a win-win no matter what back then.

She picked up the ring and placed it on her thumb. Still too big, she recollected how she wrapped it with thread so she could have it with her when he was in service until she found a sturdy enough chain to wear it on her neck. She probably should have sent it back to him, but he never asked for it, and she really didn’t want to let it go.

She smiled to herself as she slowly set the items back into the box, and then packed everything back in the tote. That tote should never have been out in the garage, so she set it in the office, still not ready to part with what remained.

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writing

Decisions, Decisions

Posted on by Dawn Renee Miller

The recent days are just a blur. She placed the heels of her hands to her eyes and rubbed. Her mind raced through details as work grew around her. Her nerves were steady for once, but decisions need to be made.

They say to go for the thing that makes you scared, for that is where you will grow the most. But, is it what she really wants? She worked hard for the opportunity, but twice before saw it slip away like the finest of sand through a sieve.

She just got a promotion, doing what she knows she does well, but the opportunity will be a challenge for her. She never has feared things that were hard…always opting for them instead of complacency, unlike her home life. But she’s older now; does she have the stamina she believes it will take?

She lifts her head from her palms and tries to focus on the task at hand. A flurry of messages fly across her screen. She imagines what it must be like for those in the position she is considering.

Her mind spins with a bevy of questions. She needs to put them down and present them; then she will know better. Then she can make the decision.

Have you been faced with a career changing decision? How have you determined which path to take?

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