ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
46 year old wife and mother who is trying to put her past behind her. [July 2006]
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (13) Alien Within (Poetry) What comes with self examination. [15 words] Angel Of Death (Non-Fiction) A corrupted childhood contaminates the present-writing purges, but just slightly...*Caution, could be considered graphic* [706 words] [Horror] Dark Anger (Short Stories) A follow up, sort of, to Darkest Fairytale, sort of. [815 words] Darkest Fairytale (Short Stories) A story written out of the depths of confusion so it's a bit confusing to follow. *Could be considered graphic* [1,571 words] [Drama] Ending (Poetry) Just a few questions I asked once upon a time ago... [21 words] Escaping Reality (Short Stories) This is an account of a real event that has a fictional ending...the ending that I know she wanted. [981 words] God's Retribution (Short Stories) A follow on story written in early January. God is displeased and one child suffers the consequence. [425 words] [Spiritual] Remember...Do You Remember? (Genres) A long prose that asks tough personal questions which require deep internal self-examination to find the answers...if answers can be found. [271 words] [Mind] Seeking God (Short Stories) This story was written in December when a vision of the god from my childhood came crashing into my present. [767 words] [Spiritual] Taken Fetus (Non-Fiction) Ripped from within her. [697 words] Tempest: Calming The Storm (Short Stories) Inner turmoil ... can it be calmed? *Caution, could be graphic* [771 words] Washed In The Blood (Short Stories) During a particularly depressing time and trying to find a way to cleanse myself of shame...well this story came to be. *Caution, could be graphic.* [631 words] When I Was Eight (Genres) A long three part prose about a dark desert night when a child was scared into submission. [501 words]
The Frustrating Switch Monica L Sprague
She left choir, mad and sad and lost. Jean was leaving them, going to Liberty Baptist Church. What’s with that, she thought. That’s all we needed tonight, of all nights. The straw that breaks the camel’s back. She walked fast and hard, the tears burning her cold cheeks. There really wasn’t a destination in mind, she just walked. When she got to Ocean View a thought occurred to her, she turned left and walked down Stahman Farms to Royston, to Singletary, to Christine’s.
Christine’s house, before her now; she took a deep breath and winced slightly. Do I dare do this, she asked herself. What will happen? Is it what Marissa expects, will this be the end of us? She walked up the driveway, the automatic light flicked on. Did she see Christine's car in the driveway, she thought as her finger pushed the door bell. Looking back down the driveway, she realized that yes she had just walked past the red P.T. Cruiser.
The door opened, Jonathan stood full and tall in the doorway, and she suddenly felt small and wrong. She shouldn’t have come here tonight. She mumbled and apology, told him that she was sorry, she should go and she turned. He stepped out and said “No, Chris is right here”. She turned again, he was standing beside her and there, behind him, stood Christine. She ducked her chin and blushed hotly, embarrassed at her brazenness to even think of coming to this house tonight. Jonathan placed an arm around her shoulder and led her into the house. They could both see the still wet tears when she entered the house. Jonathan offered her some tea, which she refused, and then excused himself to the upstairs. She sat in silence, looking at the floor, tears still falling. Christine sat silently, watching and waiting. Should I be the first to break the silence? What do I say? She just sat. Christine sat. The silence felt deafening.
“Umm…” she began, “I’m Marcia”. She looked at Christine intently, saw the recognition come into her eyes but nothing more; not the look of love she hoped for. She paused, wondering what she should do now. Finally deciding, she stood, “I should probably leave” she continued, “now, before we get into trouble”. Christine rose as well, looking intently at her. “Nothing you can tell me will get you in trouble with me” Christine responded, “It’s ok”. She just shook her head and walked toward the door. Christine behind her, she opened the door and stepped through. “Where’s your car” she heard Christine ask. “I can’t drive, remember” she responded. “How did you get here?” “I walked…from the church” she mumbled. “I can’t let you leave, I’ll drive you.” Marcia smiled slightly; maybe she does care, a little. Christine went into her house and then came out momentarily with keys and purse in hand. “Come on.” They got into the car in silence. The drive to the church was mostly silent, though Christine tried to break the mood. I so want to just have sat there, in Christine’s living room, and have her hold me-just to cry on her shoulder or be held in her arms, she thought. If only…
They arrived at the church; there was the cranberry P. T. Cruiser, amongst the other cars of the choir members. She looked over at Christine, tears welling up again. Christine sat there, watching her but saying nothing. Opening the door, she slid out. “What will you do” she heard Christine say softly. “Do?” “Yes, you can’t drive”. She shrugged; “I could go back in there” she looked over her shoulder at the church. “Will you?” She shook her head, “No, I can’t”. “Do you need help?” “Help?” “Yes, do you want to me to get someone older to take you home?” Her heart sunk. “Yes” she mumbled, while slowly nodding her head. My chance is gone, never again will I get this chance…I’m nothing…nothing…she thought as she heard Christine call meMonica out, nothing…
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