NaBloPoMo, Day 23: Dory, and a Prompt

She lapsed into a fluorescent adolescent, donning the brightest of graphic tees depicting nonsense splotches of color as trendy art and shaving the side of her head for contrast. It was all so depressing. Her hair still clogs the sink. Even though she’s gone. Gone.

You see, I watched her from afar. High school Marty was moody, and high school Mindy eluded my arm, fingers, and possession. She wore the same stocking to school every day, and only washed them when her mother scowled. Were we friends? Perhaps. She waved to me in passing, then leaped into her girlfriend’s arms. They often attracted an audience. It was only then did I avert my gaze.

I missed her without having her, and she noticed me in fleeting moments. Her heart belonged to another race, another sex, another person. I hated her. But I loved her.

The above piece will be continued at another time. I listened to the song “Dory” by Grizzly Bear, and wrote what came to mind. Needs some work, but that was five minutes or so of writing.

NOW! It’s time for a prompt.

Why is it important? Write and publish a post, link it below in a comment or ping my post. Looking forward to reading some responses.

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Call for submissions: author spotlight or review on my page

Attention writers: I am donating space on my blog to feature you and your writing. I have an impact of about 3,000 people, which can and will draw readers to your writing.
I will dedicate a post with four parts:
1) A brief introduction of you (two sentences.)
2) An excerpt of your work (500 word cap.)
3) A brief interview between yourself and I.
4) A plug for your bibliography, website, or whatever you choose.

This, of course, is completely free. I am completely flexible, and will work with you to fulfill your needs, desires, etc. Nothing is out of bounds.

Contact me at mutedbutpresent (at) gmail (dot) com if interested.

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NaBloPoMo, Day 21: Liebster Award

Aw, shucks! Thanks to the lovely Katey at kateywrites for nominating me for the Liebster Award. I have no clue what this means, so let’s discover together!

Turns out, the Liebster Awards are intended to get us bloggers talking to each other, and the task is to nominate 10 or more blogs with under 300 followers and set them ten questions to answer.  If they accept the award, they do the same.  On the way, you check out a lot of amazing blogs, make some new friends, and do what social media does best – connect!

Here are your 10 questions, bloggers:

  1. What one thing do you wish you had never written?
  2. What did you not write, but now wish you had?
  3. What are your favorite pajamas like?
  4. Is there a word you hate to use in conversation?
  5. Did you have an imaginary friend?  Describe, please.
  6. Fame or fortune?
  7. Peanut butter or jelly?
  8. Whose praise means the most to you?
  9. Whose means the least?
  10. What’s the nicest thing you ever did?

Okay, not too bad.

  1. I once wrote a story about elephant feces and a politician who fell in it. Fecal imagery…not my favorite anymore.
  2. I wish I would have written that fantasy novel I had going for NaNoWriMo two NaNoWriMo’s ago. It was pretty spectacular in scope…just didn’t follow through. Shame.
  3. I’m wearing my favorite pajamas. Plaid Ralph Lauren Polo flannel jammies. And my fiance’s WUNC NPR tee. And thick tube socks.
  4. Moist.
  5. Come to think of it, I never recall having one. I imagine I had a very active imagination, but recurring themes were difficult for me as a child. Kanye shrug.
  6. Famously fortunate. Next question.
  7. Both. Come on. Or just peanut butter. With a tall, cold glass of milk.
  8. No order: fiance, parents, Nana, co-workers, classmates, professors, patients.
  9. Eh. Critters who fail to tell me what I wrote WRONG when I ask for such advice.
  10. Well, I feel like this question could be taken in different ways. Probably the nicest thing I did for myself was decide to give a grown-up relationship a shot with my fiance. The nicest thing I’ve ever done for somebody else? I’m gonna be honest: I really can’t think of anything particularly nice outside of my job. I have delivered prescriptions several times on weekends.

So, here are my nominees:

  1. kateywrites – the kind lass who nominated me. She writes wonderfully, and is very involved in the community.
  2. Wombat’s Photography – my fellow Anthology Club contributor/editor with an excellent eye for photography.
  3. Reavski the Reav – a very active commenter of my works, and a great writer of opinion and fiction.
  4. The Paris Review Blog – Commentary and written word influenced by The Paris Review — reactionary literature the way it should be done. I wish I’d had thought of this.
  5. City-State Writings – This duo writes apocalyptic short fiction — high quality, high quantity.
  6. Artsy Wanderer – Ms. Karyl is a writer who is contributing to one of my anthologies, and she is always worth a click (or two) and subsequent read.
  7. AnElephantCant – Talent and humor. Please: click, read, and follow.
  8. Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – The talented realistic flash fictioneer who birthed the wonderful Friday Fictioneers.
  9. 300 stories – Dieter set out to write 300 stories with 300 words or less per story. He’s done awesome, and is working on #176 at the moment.
  10. A Little Bird Tweets – Great fiction. My newest find.

Yes, I broke the rules and put some people with more than 300 followers on here. Whatever.

Check them all out, and, if you’ve been nominated, please answer the following questions:

  1. Were I to send you back to yourself at sixteen, would your younger self believe the stories you have to tell?
  2. The moment is here: your last work. What is it, and what is it called?
  3. Write a three sentence story.
  4. Think of a name, write it down, and describe the person whose name it is. Don’t think, just do.
  5. Recommend your readers an album you’re fond of.
  6. What is one blog post you’ve always wanted to write, but haven’t gotten around to it?
  7. What’s your schedule looking like for the next two weeks?
  8. Are you participating in any contests at the moment?
  9. Garlic: yes or no?
  10. Favorite games of any medium, and why?
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NaBloPoMo, Day 16: The Wilhelm Scream

I wrung my hands til they chapped and protested with blood in the crevasses they used to identify us by. Each school year, around October, they was a man who would come and take our picture and fingerprints. Our parents would give him a few dollars and my ID came in the mail around November. I had a stack of them at the end of high school, and they continued to have the same man take my picture and fingerprints until I was able to get an ID from the DMV, which, it turned out we could have done that all along.

I saw the man at a bar one night. He rolled his sleeves up, and wore his pants nearly as high as his ears. He had his digital camera on the bar in front of him, and a two-dollar bill beside of it. The bartender shook her head.

Done told you I don’t like twos.

Legal tender, hain’t it?

Dunno, you tell me.

By golly, it is. Just want some water.

Well you can have it, but keep the two.

She reached for her bargun and filled a glass to the brim with Sprite. Close. Not exactly water. He looked over his shoulder and saw me. Before I could leave, he motioned me over. I gulped hard, and walked slowly over to him.

Oh, come on — hain’t got all day!

I sped up a little bit and stood by an empty stool beside him. He was wrinkly and skinny in all the places old men are such. What was ugliest about him was the way he stared at my budding chest.

You’re a little young for a cozy like this’un.

I’m old enough to know…

…but too young to care.
There’s a couple o’ folks that would be heart broken to hear that.

He pulled out the stool beside me and motioned me to sit. He called over the bartender to pour me a Sprite and he started asking me about how school was going. I said fine. He asked me about being a teenager in the 21st century, and other stuff old men would say to young girls.

So, I’ll leave you alone. I’ll call a cop to take you home.


This guy was weird.

Can’t let you be in this kind of place. I bet your parents don’t even have your ID.

He chuckled into his Sprite and began to dial a few numbers on his phone.

Please don’t…

Can’t hear you. On the phone.

So I pushed my stool out and left. What a weird dude. I pushed open the saloon style doors and walked in the rain the way home. I got to Wednesday Boulevard before I saw a car. It passed me, and slowed down to a crawl.

I had seen the car before, but I couldn’t remember where from. Red taillights and two tone paint. Older body style, like you’d find at a used car lot. License plate MWZ-5766.

I kept walking, and I saw a window roll down. It was the weird man, and he motioned for to get in as I passed.

Can’t let you get too wet, get in!

I started jogging a bit and he throttled the gas. I felt my stomach lurch and I wanted to be home.

Stop running, girl, get in!

I ran. I ran around the corner and hoped his tires would spin. I ran into the road and screamed as loud as I could. The rain came down in torrents, and the headlights pinned me to a brick dividing wall. I thought it was over.

I screamed. And jolted awake to scream some more.

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