Sweet Tooth

Oct 09

Sweet Tooth

There was once was a town called Woodcrest. A deep forest, thick with dark timber surrounded the small village on three sides, while a large lake nestled up against the other side. The lake sparkled every night regardless of the fullness of the moon, except for one night of the year; All Hallow’s Eve. For 364 days of the year, the glow from the lake illuminated the town to allow the people to work regardless of time. On All Hallow’s Eve, the glow disappeared and left the town under an eerie darkness. The inhabitants this village lived off the land. The houses were made of timber cut from the forest and mud from the edge of the lake. Farming, hunting and trade were how they survived. There was a single trail that led off into the woods, but it only led deeper into the darkness. A lone wagon would come down that trail once a year, bringing goods from other villages for trade or sale. “Mooooooooom,” yelled Teddy. Teddy was an energetic, young boy with only eight years under his belt. He was full of determination and extremely goal oriented for someone so young. He was a little on the chubby side, not from his lack of conditioning or exercise, but an unquenchable appetite with a slower than normal metabolism. “Yes Teddy,” his mom replied with a smile, appreciating his excitement. “I want to win the All Hallow’s Eve contest this year,” he said. The contest was for the child that collected the most food and candy from their neighbors in the isolated village. The winner and their family was given a percentage of the village’s food supply that would make that family’s life easier for an entire year. The winner would also be able to travel with the wagon to see the world. The smile vanished from her face before he finished speaking. She knew he was determined, but was forbidden from trying to stop him. She remembered that exact same look on her brother’s face 30 years ago. “Are you sure, dear?” “I’m better than the other kids mom,” he replied. “Plus, I’m always hungry and you work too hard. I could snack on my winnings and...

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And So It Begins…

Oct 09

As the fingers tap the keys, the writer is already three words ahead. As the sentences form to the synapses in the brain, we’re already trying to correct the words before anyone sees them. That curse of the blinking cursor as it awaits your command, while your paused in thought with finger hovering over the delete key. Writing was something I always did, it wasn’t something that I loved. Or so I thought. I wrote poetry and songs while growing up as an outlet for my emotions. The words needed to come out and I never felt comfortable talking to other people about them. The pain, the joy and the fear all came gushing into words turned paragraphs. Because it was tied to my emotional self, I failed to realize that the feeling I had for it was love. Love was never so kind before. Now that I recognize what love is, I realize that writing was always there for me. Where my writing journey will take me, I do not know. But it’s a journey nonetheless. And I will be sharing or just documenting it here as I take each step. Honestly, the journey has been happening for some time now, but I just thought I was here for the ride. Now I take each step with purpose. I’ll try not to trip, but hope someone takes pictures if I do. And it...

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