Pamela Schloesser Canepa's Blog, page 81

Yoga, Stream of Consciousness, My Exercise Evolution, Pt 4

I like the pained look on this woman’s face in the photograph.  Not because the yoga hurt me, but because my stressed out body was not ready to let go of the stress and relax this time.  I want to be honest, and this photo totally represents my attitude tonight.  I didn’t feel too evolved, but in actuality, I guess I’ve evolved to be able to not push myself too far.

I hate Triangle.  This is what I was thinking when the instructor told us to set up for our triangle pose.  Then, I immediately felt guilty for my negative thinking.  Sadly, I’ve fallen a little out of tune with my exercise routine, but perhaps for good reasons.  I obviously don’t have the attitude I had built myself up to, and I really need to work to get it back.

I am , however, going to give myself a free pass and just thank myself for showing up to the class tonight.  I knew it would help me, and it did, despite my almost losing my balance and falling once or twice, needing to modify my lunges.  So I modified.  I went easy on myself; it’s been a rough few weeks, with a hurricane passing through, a family friend dying, and the ex-husband in town for a few days.  My emotions have been pulled, and I had cause for anxiety with the ex-husband based on his last visit.  Now it’s all over.  The ex went back home, the funeral has happened, the hurricane dispelled.  Yet I am still at the bottom of the well.  I need to work on coming back up.  I was very mindful to remind myself of that all through class.

On a brighter note, here’s more on the topic of wandering minds during yoga: why do so many instructors use phrasing such as, isn’t that a yummy stretch?  That is mostly used by female instructors, I’ve noticed.  While I haven’t had that many male instructors, there is one most memorable instructor who would say, “Feel that stretch, isn’t that delicious?”  This was said in his beautiful Calypso or Caribbean accent.

“No,” I said, honestly.  It wasn’t delicious as his hand holding my leg steady was, or as his honey dripping accent, or as, let’s say, chocolate.  That’s the part I didn’t say.

“The Lady and the Champ,” a Short Story told strictly in dialogue. 1,000 word limit.

*This story was in reaction to a short story contest, which I ultimately did not enter as I was also working on something else.  Word limits are a huge challenge; add to that, being restricted to just dialogue!  I felt like the tone of this story was kind of sad, yet  there are so many spaces between the words leaving room for interpretation and innuendo.  Or maybe I intended that?  Your comments are welcome but please keep them constructive. I don’t plan to re-write this; it is a snapshot.  Was it realistic? Entertaining?  What did you get out of it, without the benefit of setting and character background?  As always, thanks for reading!*

 

The Lady and the Champ by Pamela Schloesser Canepa    Copyright, 2016.

 

“Bill, how about tonight?”

“Trish, you know it’s not been enough time since the accident, and I can’t take another pill today.  I’m sorry.  Please be patient.”

“I’m trying, hon’.”

“Oh, don’t give me that look.  You know what the doctor said.  And I’m just, really hurting bad today.  One more pill and my blood pressure may skyrocket.”

“I didn’t know you’d already taken so many pills.  I didn’t know it was still this bad.  I’m sorry.  I try to understand how you’re feeling, and I’ve been patient.  Just, never mind, Bill.  Don’t worry about it.  Is there anything I could do to make you feel better?”

“No, Trish.  There’s really not.  Well, maybe, fix me some of your excellent Texas cheese toast?”

“Of course.  Let me go do that.”

“You’re really so understanding.  How did I get so lucky to have a wife like you?”

“You were the most gentlemanly guy that came off the boat that night.  Of course, those muscles of yours probably caught my eye.”

“That’s the spirit.  Remember me that way.  We’ll get through this.”

*****

“Here you go, honey, just as you like it.”

“You’re not having any?”

“Not hungry.  I think I’ll just watch the boxing match.”

“You need to get out there and make some friends.  Don’t spend all your time with a sick, broken man like me.”

“That accident was not your fault, Bill.  I don’t need to be out gallavantin’ around and leaving you here to wallow in misery.  I don’t intend to, either.  We’ve only been married a year, and I don’t plan to neglect our marriage.  I want to be here for you.  We’ll just sit here and watch the match.”

“Why don’t you call up that gal, Becky?  Go out for a night on the town.”

“Nope.”

“Just go to a movie, girl, you need to get out.  I can’t stand seeing you housebound here with me, a twenty-three-year-old girl, full of energy, pretty as anything.  Go out and have some fun.  I trust you, really.”

“No, Bill.  I told you, I’m staying here and that’s all there is to it.”

“Go see Jared down the hall.  He’ll be good for practice.”

“What are you saying???!!What do you mean?”

“Well, look at the muscles on him.”

“I don’t want him!  I only want you!  Stop this!  Stop!  Stop!”

“Trish, I’m just saying, he’d be good for keeping you in shape, warmed up, ready for the next round.”

“You mean..”

“I mean the next arm wrestling match.  No, I’m not suggesting you run to his arms for comfort and love.  Gosh!  What do you think I am?   I know that’s not like you, and honestly, the thought sickens me.”

“Oh, what a relief.”

“But, please know, if I found out you did such a thing, I’d probably forgive you.  It can’t be easy hanging out here with a broken body like mine.  Heck, it’s probably like being married to an old man.   Sometimes I feel sorry for you.”

“Baby, I would never, ever look on someone else that way.  I don’t want anyone else.  I will wait for you.”

“Ouch.  Move your arm, please.  I’m still sore in that shoulder.  That’s not even the worst one.  See.  I can’t even stand you touching me right now.  Can’t even hug your old man.”

“I’m sorry!  I’m sorry.  Really.  Our money-making plans can wait.  Don’t worry.  I’ll keep in shape.  You’ll get better, and get back in shape.  We can do this.  Sorry, I know, I won’t touch you on the arm either.  Oh, I’m just, sorry.”

“Baby, don’t cry.  Just, can you please, just, let me sleep a while?”

“That feels good, you running your fingers through my hair, even if I have to sit on the floor.  Just keep on doing that, okay?  Well, ‘til you fall asleep.”

“Look at us.  You have to lean against my wheelchair, and the only way I can show you love is to play with your hair.  But not for too long, even that will make my arm tired soon.  You just don’t know how blessed I feel.  I truly know how lucky I am that you are my wife, that you’re still around…”

“Bill?  You stopped….Oh.  Asleep. Oh, well.  It was nice for a moment.  It’ll happen, Bill.  You’ll be fighting again soon; I’ll be a pro arm-wrestler.  Such a unique show we are together.”

****

 

“Honey?  Where are you?”

“I’m right here, Bill.  Had to clean up the kitchen.  Besides, you were sleeping.  You don’t have to worry about me sneaking out or running off.  I promise.”

“Trish, babe, I told you, I trust you.  No, it’s not that.  Look, out the window.  Jared is here.  Go catch him in the hall; see if he’s game.  If I can’t win any fights, maybe you can keep your game ready and win some matches.”

“Really?  Is this what you were dreaming about?”

“Hon’, you’ve got the beauty, the bod, and the strength to be a total knock-out, in more ways than one.  Don’t let it rest just because I have to.  Go on.  I know you’ll be back.  Believe me, I don’t expect anything bad to come out of this.  Jared’s a good guy, anyhow.  Knows my situation.  Really.  Just go, catch him in the hall like you just happened to be there, too.  Then, you make small talk, on the topic of arm-wrestling.  I’ll bet he didn’t know that about you.”

“Well, okay, I guess.”

“There he is, hear the outer door opening?  Go to him.  He’ll be willing, I’m sure.  He may be a good match, even.  Don’t look so glum!  I’ll be up and at it in no time.  In the meantime, have fun, and let me know how the arm-wrestling match goes.”

“Okay, Bill.  But keep remembering, I wish it was you.”

“I know, honey, don’t I know it.  I’ll be wishing it, too.”

 

Hurricane Haiku while Hunkering down…#hurricanematthew, Poetry and Reflection

As it gets closer,

Wind gusts, growing more steady.

Hurricane Matthew.

One must admit, Nature can be beautiful, even when it is fearsome.  I videotaped the breezes and wind gusts the morning of our expected hit date by Hurricane Matthew.  The breezes were beautiful and enthralling at this point.  However, they are to be feared.  Reporters and news reporters kept reminding us to “hunker down.”  It was a Category 4.

I had said that I didn’t want this storm to be anything worth writing about.  I recently shared a poem with my classes about Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath.  No one wants to go through that.  I did not want a life or death situation.  I did not get one.  Luckily, the storm downgraded to a category 3.  The worst we had personally was a power outage, and a tin roof from my neighbor’s dog house flying into our backyard.  I survived said power outage by reading with a flashlight.  James Patterson is entertaining no matter what goes on around you.

Some neighborhoods did not fare as well, as old trees were knocked down or uprooted, blocking roads or hitting houses.  This tree and road blockage was surveyed the day after the storm came through.  Residents of the beach area, 20 miles away, had to evacuate, as it became flooded out.  I feel fortunate not to worry about such a thing as flooding, and am very relieved no trees damaged our house.  A tree was felled at the front of our neighborhood but was cleared away by the time I ventured out.

I am heartbroken, however, by the death of a friend of our family, a church member who had taken us under his wing, mentored my son, and helped him get his first job.  It was reported that he tried to cover up his roof during the storm.  It had been damaged by a tree, and while on the ladder, he fell.  I believe he was approximately 70.  He lost balance and fell, most likely because of those wind gusts.  He later passed away in the hospital.  Why did it have to be him?  Sometimes it appears these things happen by random, to good people who didn’t deserve it.  I can’t question it much more because I can’t find the answer.  He will be remembered and missed, God rest his soul.

I truly will miss Bob’s smile and his hugs.

Echoes of My Neighborhood, October Entry. Widening the Radius

A neighborhood with trees such as these, is a beautiful one indeed….

How far does your neighborhood reach?  On this beautiful October day, October 2nd, I got to experience a larger neighborhood reach.  Today I walked with some members of my church in the Cropwalk, a yearly event that raises funds and spreads awareness to stop hunger in other countries and in our local neighborhoods through an organization called Church World Service.

I live in a side of my town called Mandarin.  My church is located in Lakewood and is called Lakewood Presbyterian.*  (It is only a ten-minute drive for me when there is no traffic).  There’s a small area beyond that called Miramar, and then there’s San Marco, a beautiful historic area.  Our walk began in a church in San Marco, still, probably just a ten-minute drive from my church on a pleasant Sunday.  Simply an extension of my own neighborhood!  Never mind that the homes are a bit more expensive.  The land is a little more valuable, considering many of them have riverfront property and easy access for a boat entrance.  I just love our river.  Maybe you can tell, I also love these old, moss-filled trees.

The weather has been a lot less humid lately, but the temperatures seemed to be pretty high anyway.  Another reason one would enjoy such lovely trees along the roadway!  I was so thankful for their coverage as we continued our walk.

As we headed back to our starting point at South Jacksonville Presbyterian, I was amazed at what a perfect backdrop the clouds made.

Later, when I’d been back at home in my little neighborhood again, they peaked at me during sunset while I took the dog on his walk. I caught just the last glimmer of pink.

So, I suppose I widened the radius of my neighborhood quite a bit in this entry.  I’ve done that before, have you noticed?  It’s all part of my neighborhood, my world, my home.  Our church service today reflected on World Communion Sunday and the fact that we are all neighbors.  Perhaps these same clouds drifted past you in your neck of the woods.  I hope so; they were perfect.

It was such a lovely day, and I look back on it peacefully now, as my city is in the wake of Hurricane Matthew.  I truly hope I won’t have any outlandish stories to tell about it.  I prefer to be the author of outlandish fiction, thank you very much.  Please pray for us!

“Echoes of My Neighborhood” is a weekly blog challenge started by Jacqueline Obyikocha at her blog, A Cooking Pot and Twisted Tales.  One of her recent entries can be found at http://acookingpotandtwistedtales.com... and illustrates her life in Dubai quite well!  Go and give it a look!

Having participated regularly over the summer in this blog challenge, I will try to join in every few weeks, or monthly, now that I’m back at work.  I am hoping my brief entry here has shown a little of what life is like in Northern Florida with the river, the sunshine, the Spanish Moss.  It all comes together to paint a lovely picture.

*Lakewood Presbyterian in Jacksonville’s website is lpcjax.org. If you are in the area, please give it a look!

 

Authors Promoting Authors, An Interview with Heather King

 

Join me for an interview with the UK author, Heather King. 

 

Tell us about yourself and how many books you have written.

Firstly, many thanks to Pam for inviting me to visit. It is a thrill to be here! Do help yourselves to wine and cake and join us in the Drawing Room.

I love history, both as a reader and an author. I’m also – confession time! – an incurable romantic. Even as a small child, I loved writing – and dreaming – and once wrote my ‘news’ in the flower-edged squares of my bedroom wallpaper! I discovered Georgette Heyer’s Regency novels when I was aged about eleven, setting me on a lifelong love of the era. While I fear that august lady’s talents are far above my reach – we can but aspire, as a friend quite rightly once said – I strive always to be the very best I can be and live up to the Queen of Regency’s magnificent legacy. I like my readers to walk beside my characters and experience the world they inhabit.

I currently have seven books in my back list as myself: A Sense of the Ridiculous, An Improper Marriage (novels); Treasure Beyond Words, Copenhagen’s Last Charge (novellas); The Middle of the Day (short story); Beaux, Ballrooms and Battles (Anthology with other authors) and my newest release, Devil’s Hoof, which is a Shape Shifter Romance. Writing as Vandalia Black, I also have an anthology of Vampire Romance short stories, Vampires Don’t Drink Coffee and Other Stories.

I live in a beautiful part of the UK and when I’m not tramping the grounds of English country houses, either figuratively or physically, I can be found looking after my ponies and mobile mousetraps, maintaining the ‘estate’ or taking long walks with my dog. When I have time, which doesn’t seem to be very often these days, I enjoy watching historical dramas and, of course, curling up with a good book

.

What type of books do you prefer to write?

In many ways, my spiritual home is the nineteenth century, if not in a practical sense – I live in jodhpurs, adore hot showers, electric kettles and the microwave, and would hate never to have heard Il Divo! Yet I love the courtesy, the manners, the gentler pace of life, the furnishings, the grand houses and, of course, the horses. Mechanical horsepower is inordinately useful, but there is something about the real thing – the smell of leather; the jingle of bit and harness; the evocative aroma of the horses themselves (yes, I was one of those little girls who thought ‘they’ should bottle l’eau de cheval). I am a big softy too, so it was probably inevitable that I should write romance. My Regency stories are traditional romps – light-hearted and witty (I hope), with bags of emotion and feelings. No doubt GH would not approve, but I trust the reader will. My Welsh stallion Shape Shifters are contemporary and a bit more raunchy, though nothing is graphically described.

 

What is the name of your latest book and what inspired it?

My latest book is Devil’s Hoof, the first novel in the stand-alone Welsh Boys series about a family of horse Shape Shifters. The series centres on the ‘bachelor herd’ of the Swift family – in other words, the sons, cousins, brothers and half-brothers who are unmarried/unattached. In the wild, the young colts are ‘kicked out’ of the main herd into  a bachelor group.

The story was inspired by a conversation I had at my author group when I was explaining the devastating effects of the equine ailment, Laminitis. The idea of a man stricken with a similar complaint sprang from that discussion. Man and the horse are far more alike in structure than you might think.

Do you have any unusual writing habits?

None I dare admit to! Seriously… no, I don’t think I have. I don’t wear a Regency bonnet when I’m writing historical or a wisp of net for Paranormal. I am methodical (sounds better than slow) and can’t ‘dash the story down’. Sometimes, if the right word doesn’t spring to mind, I have to find it before I can go on. That way I can usually do fewer drafts. If I am stuck for a moment, often something like putting the kettle on will undo the knot. I do a rough plan, but then just sit down and write, seeing the story evolve in my head like a film… at least until my characters start deciding I’ve got it all wrong!

What authors or books have influenced you?

When I was about nine, I read a book called The Gauntlet, a time-slip set in medieval Wales. I have never forgotten it and I suspect it started my interest in historical fiction. I also adored the historical works of Antonia Fraser, especially those about Robin Hood. Then I discovered Georgette Heyer and she has had the most influence on me. Her books are timeless, irrespective of era. No matter your age or mood, there is a novel to suit you. I treasure my collection of Elizabeth Chadwick novels and have enjoyed works by Jane Austen, Barbara Erskine, Dick Francis, Beatrix Potter, Enid Blyton, Jean Auel, Amanda Ashley, J.R. Ward and many more. I particularly love Elizabeth’s descriptive skills. In writing terms, I owe much of what I have achieved to my writing mentor, author Sue Johnson, who is wonderfully supportive and encouraging.

What are you working on now?

I have a to-do list a mile long! I have two novels of my own to proof for print; an editing job for a client; a half-written novella to complete for Christmas; a non-fiction work about horses to polish and, looming on the horizon all-too-fast, a project for a novel which I can’t say much about at the moment! Oh, and I have been asked by readers to hurry up and write the next Welsh Boys novel (can I say that?!)

Do you have any advice for new authors?

Write every day, even if you can only manage a few minutes. It will build into something. Once written, put it away for a bit so you return to it with fresh eyes. Be prepared to rewrite, rewrite and rewrite again.

Read, read, read. If writing historical fiction, immerse yourself in the era. Learn how people behaved and talked in that time; prevailing customs; clothing, furnishing, settings. Get someone versed in the era to read it, particularly if writing about a country you are not born to. Nothing throws a reader out of a story faster than poor research and anachronisms. My personal bugbear (apart from equine errors) is a Regency which is no more than a modern story with barely a gown or a bow thrown in. Do your homework!

N.B. If writing Regency, read Georgette Heyer! She invented the genre (Jane Austen was writing about her own time.)

What are you reading now?

‘Not a lot,’ is the short answer! I am trying to read Elizabeth Chadwick’s The Summer Queen, but haven’t had the time to get into it yet. I always seem to be reading for work these days!

What is your favourite part of the writing and publishing process?  Why?

It might just possibly be the cover. I do my own covers and love being able to use my artistic side without requiring any talent to do so! As far as the writing goes, though, I do love creating characters and watching their journey to love and happiness. I told you I was a softy.

 

If you were going to be stranded on a desert island and allowed to take 3 or 4 books with you, what books would you bring?

Only three or four? Oh, dear. A good choice would be a book of spells, wouldn’t it? I don’t suppose an omnibus edition of Jane Austen’s works would be allowed, either… In no particular order, then: The Greatest Knight by Elizabeth Chadwick, Venetia by Georgette Heyer, The Valley of Horses by Jean Auel and The Complete Tales of Winnie the Pooh by A.A. Milne. Next week it might be a different four.

 

Author Websites and Profiles 

 

Blog: http://regencywriter-hking.blogspot.co.uk

Website: https://heatherkingauthoruk.wordpress.com/

 

Social media links

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/heather.king.author

https://www.facebook.com/ARegencyRepository

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/goodreadscomheatherkinguk

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B00I04PYPE

Amazon Author Page (US): http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00I04PYPE

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/PurpleHeather

Twitter: https://twitter.com/1PurpleHeather

 

Web links to buy her books

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Devils-Hoof-Welsh-Boys-Novel-ebook/dp/B01ES9PF3A?ie=UTF8&ref_=asap_bc

https://www.amazon.com/Devils-Hoof-Welsh-Boys-Novel-ebook/dp/B01ES9PF3A?ie=UTF8&ref_=asap_bc

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/devil-s-hoof

http://origin-wby.barnesandnoble.com/w/devils-hoof-heather-king/1123752551;jsessionid=B6599F8A6F40792368D39D7E40FE26E2.prodny_store02-atgap08?ean=2940153001371

Heather is a lovely person, though I only know her virtually.  I met her in the Facebook group, Marketing for Creatives.  She is always willing to lend her expertise and recently helped me re-work a book cover.  Please find her online, and give one of her books a read!

 

Author Networking and Mutual Support, #RRBC

 

Want to know how I got to be on an online Blog Talk Radio program on Aug. 27th?  Or how I’ve worked my way up to 927 Twitter followers?  How about the author who has posted my author interview on her blog?  The truth is, it wasn’t all that difficult, and it wasn’t just because I published a book on Kindle.  It all happened thanks to the help of some powerful networking, a tool no indie author could really live without, especially if they want to stay the course in these sometimes lonely waters.  Let me tell you about Rave Reviews Book Club!

I imagine one could pay to have a PR company promote them.  There are many book promo. sites that will tweet for you.  I simply didn’t feel I could foot the bill for such a thing.  You may have heard me mention Rave Reviews Book Club before.  It is a grounding point for me as an indie author.  I truly feel as if I am not alone since finding this community of writers and readers whose main goal is to show one another reciprocal support.  Therefore, I may have joined this club in order to receive author support, but I remain, as my responsibility as a writer is to encourage other writers, to respect writing as an art, and to appreciate and promote other worthy authors, after all, I am still a reader and an appreciater of books and great Literature!

How does it work, you might wonder?  Rave Reviews Book Club requires a nominal fee once per year, and with that, you are a member!  Membership means you will get news of excellent books being published or going on sale, and as a writer, you will get to share your books and news.  Your requirement is to follow other members on Twitter, purchase 4 books by fellow members yearly and review them on Amazon, and to share/retweet fellow members’ news of their books.  In return, you will be supported with shares of your tweets and book information, you’ll have your book looked at, purchased and reviewed, and at some point, yours will be chosen as the book of the month.  This all means much more exposure, what every indie author needs.  Besides all of this, they have a blog talk radio show, a channel on Whatsapp (which I haven’t joined yet), and special programs such as the Back to School Blog party.  It is amazing just how many types of author support they provide!  I haven’t partaken in every little bit, but I just wanted to show that there are so many opportunities for networking and spreading news of your book at this club.  After a few months, I had been chosen as Member of the Week, which is a huge Twitter support storm, and about a month later, I was chosen to talk for a few minutes about my book on their Blog Talk Radio show, which was an exciting opportunity!

  A.M. Manay, @ammanay on Twitter, a talented fellow member, made this graphic and Twitter blasted it during my Member of the Week “reign.”

I’ve had the opportunity to read and review such excellent authors as Bruce A. Borders, author of Over My Dead Body, http://amzn.to/2d1w7Qw and J.R. Barrett, author of Winnerland, http://amzn.to/2d1uC4H.  By the way, I highly suggest you read both of them!  These are books I might not have discovered otherwise.

Another type of author support some of the members use is author promotion on their blogs.  Check out the site of Kim Cox, http://twitter.com/KimCoxAuthor, fellow published author and RRBC member!  This is the link to the author interview she posted on her blog for me: http://kimwrtr.wordpress.com/2016/09/17/the-writers-journey-guest-author-pamela-schloesser-canepa/

All of this support and the attitude of mutual encouragement are rubbing off on me.  I have decided to add a Book Reviews section to my blog and will post my reviews here on the blog in addition to Amazon or the author’s preferred site.  Please check back to see this feature on my page!

Are you interested in the policies and perks of the Rave Reviews Book Club?  I encourage you to visit their site and join up at http://ravereviewsbynonniejules.wordp... and if you sign up, tell them Pamela Schloesser Canepa sent you there!  Yes, they even have perks for getting new members signed up.  I seriously love being a part of this Book Club.

Go now, check out Rave Reviews Book Club at the site above!

-Pamela

Return to The Post Office Box, a short story reimagined with alternate endings #paranormal #realisticfiction

by Pamela Schloesser Canepa, copyright 2016. Part 1 originally posted on kurtbrindley.com

Originally a Flash Fiction response in 250 words, now followed by two alternate endings; choose your preferred genre, or read both.  Thank you for reading!

Tussling with the dog. That was Jasmine’s story, this time. The scar would dissipate in a week, she knew. It did hurt. This was so unfair, yet, all too familiar.

Driving to work, Jasmine noticed she’d inadvertently put on one navy blue shoe and one black. An understandable mistake; they were almost identical, and those colors were close. I wonder if anyone will notice?  She realized the light had turned. I sure don’t need a ticket.

To her left was the post office. Darn, I forgot that electric bill. Rick will lose it. Do I go back? She worried it might make her late, yet she didn’t need one more fight about the mail.

Her thoughts drifted to the invitation that had arrived the week before for her ten year high school reunion. Of course, with a four-month-old baby and a full-time job, she hadn’t seriously considered. Still, she had thought of going.

“You just want to see all your old boyfriends! You wench!” Rick had screamed, holding the baby in his arms.

“No, Rick, don’t worry, I don’t need to go.” That’s how it always went. Keeping the peace. When she never received any in return.

Abruptly, she pulled into the post office. “I need a post office box,” she announced to the clerk. JUST for me.  With receipt of the key, she found the assigned box. It was cool inside. She imagined fitting inside of it, this doorway to distant places.

Alternate ending A, paranormal/speculative fiction:

She slipped her hand in a little further.  It seemed to pull her.  Where would she go?  No doubt, someplace cooler than South Carolina.  The pull was quite strong, but she pulled back against it.  The baby!  I can’t leave the baby.

Realizing that this might be even more real than she had imagined, Jasmine slammed the door to her post office box shut.

“Everything okay, Miss?”  A young girl with hair the color of pink cotton candy and earbuds in her ears asked.

Jasmine turned around.  “It’s been a strange day.”

“Your mailbox isn’t all the way closed, by the way.  I’m Wilma, but my friends call me Freddie.”  She held out her braceleted hand.

Jasmine shook it and turned to make sure the post office box was closed all the way.

“That was a nice pinkie ring, your wedding band, too.”  Freddie called.

The wedding band was replaced after Rick had tossed it down the disposal in a drunken rage.  He spent three times as much on it, in hopes that would make his night of terror less memorable.  Of course, Jasmine didn’t say that to Freddie.

“Thanks.”  Jasmine looked around, feeling cornered.  This girl noticed too much.

“If you have that door open too long, it really works.  It takes you away.”  Freddie whispered.  “You only come back if you want to.  I swear.”

It was as if this girl knew her secrets, Jasmine thought.  She also seemed to know her exact thoughts on what was at the other side of that P.O. box.  Jasmine shivered.

“I have to go home.”

“Yes, of course.  But just so you know, it’s here.  It’ll still be here the next time you come back, no matter how long it’s been.  Once you feel the pull, you can’t pretend it doesn’t exist.  I sense you need it even more than I did.”  The young girl put the earbuds back in her ears.    “Ciao,”  she called, as she turned and pulled her hoodie over her head and left the post office.

Jasmine rushed home, but Rick was, indeed, in rare form, ticked off over her being fifteen minutes late.

“I got stuck in traffic.”  She lied.  Telling the truth about what was going on in her mind was not safe at all.

“Yeah, right.  You were probably hanging out, talking to those guys you work with.”

“Rick, I’ll do better.  I’ll find a new way home.  Just let me get the dishes done.  Ross is fine over there in the playpen.  Please, just no more.  Don’t wake him.”

“I’m out of here.  You had your fun, I’ll have mine.”  And he walked out, slamming the door.

Rick came back four hours later, noisily.  Jasmine feigned a deep sleep.

Three days later, Jasmine walked into the post office with her baby, Ross.  The box was empty, of course, but she stuck her arm in as far as it would go.  Then, she had Ross stick his hand in.  “Doesn’t it feel cool, Ross?”

He giggled, taking his hand out and then putting it back in.

An elderly woman looked at them strangely.

“He likes playing, feeling the temperature change in there,” Jasmine explained.  The woman gave a fake smile.  Jasmine asked, “Have you seen that young girl, with the bright pink hair, and….”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, sorry.”  The woman spoke with a thick accent.  Should I ask where she’s from?  Jasmine pondered.  Maybe that’s where I should go.

Then it hit her.  I’m really considering doing this.  I am thinking of leaving.  How?  How can I leave?  Where will I go?  I guess it starts with daring to think of it, daring to believe I could do it.  How could she turn back now?

The woman walked off and left the post office.  Jasmine was left alone with Ross, and the open mailbox door.  Lights were beginning to dim.  It was late this time.  She’d taken off while Rick was out on one of his drinking binges, to return God-knows-when.  The only light she saw now was inside of the box, on the other side.

Letters, packages, notices all get sent from out here, to in there, ending up with loved ones or important people across the sea, in other states, far-away places.

She closed her eyes and held Ross tightly.  I will never leave you, Ross.  If I go anywhere, I go with you.  But how will I fit this diaper bag full of formula and diapers in there?  Opening her eyes, she saw the light still glowing within.  “Here we go, Ross.”  She put her thin arm into the box, and he followed suit with his chubby little baby arm, a big smile on his face.  She held him close and closed her eyes.

“Mam?  We’re clos-“ Manny, the late shift postal worker announced, to no one.  He had just seen her there, and now there was no one.  Perhaps the dim lighting was playing tricks on his eyes.

He didn’t see the woman on the other side of the box, holding a baby, carefully opening an envelope addressed to Canada.  If he had, he would not have seen it for too long.  She and the baby had disappeared inside of it, arms first, seeming to be sucked in by a powerful light that was nothing more than the power of sheer determination, free will, and a strong ability to believe.

Whatever happened to Jasmine and Ross?  One thing is for sure, Rick never saw or heard from them again.  He seemed distraught at first, and then, just seemed to forget to be distraught.  Meanwhile, Jasmine found herself with very little money in a coastal surfing town called Tofino, Canada.  She made up a believable story since there was still a shiner under her eye that only showed when she went without makeup, something she did a lot more often now.  One call to work, informing them she wouldn’t be back, and a request that her boss call her parents and inform them she was alright.  That was the last time anyone from her old life heard from her.

She took up odd jobs in tourist shops, then found a room above a coffee shop and eventually started working there, pouring coffee in the morning and babysitting children in the afternoons.  It was a very simple life, but this town felt like freedom to her.  She recalled nothing of how she got there.  Nor did it matter.  The memories of who she used to be were fading as well.  Little Ross was happy playing with other children in the cozy little tourist town.  She planned to teach him how to surf one day, as she was taking a lesson on it every week.  She also took up knitting, as the locals informed her it would get quite cold in the next month.   People around town would take to more indoor activities, and that was okay; she loved the people here.  Yes, this sure felt like freedom.  And it was there for her, only because she dared to chase it.

Rumor has it, that every few months, the postal workers at Postal Office B in Charleston, South Carolina, would see a strange glow in the mailroom at night behind the P.O. boxes, just around closing time, accompanied by the sound of a woman and her baby laughing without a care in the world.  Perhaps they were simply between destinations?  Or, perhaps it was a reminder of the power of imagination and belief.  Manny, tired, overworked, and always the stooge of his peer group, was starting to feel the pull himself.

 

Click here for Alternate ending B, realistic fiction following the intro.: https://pamelascanepa.wordpress.com/2016/08/09/the-post-office-box-flash-fiction-limit250-words/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Free download of the sci-fi novella, “Seeing Through Sampson’s Eyes.”

One reader calls it a “very fascinating and scary observation of human nature.”  Have you ever tried seeing the world through someone else’s eyes?  This futuristic sci-fi novella imagines it as a literal and metaphorical feat.  You can get it for free, starting 9/22!  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01GNNCHHQ

Download my second sci-fi novella, Seeing Through Sampson’s Eyes, for free from 9/22 to 9/25.  Considered “darker, with a dangerous edge,” this one follows more closely the character of Norrie from Made for Me.  Both she and Abrielle are searching for some truths, but it’s soon Norrie’s turn to set out on her own.  She’s all grown up now, fearless, and curious, longing to find the truth about her biological father and the father who raised her.  This book continues the timeline of Made for Me, but can also be read as a stand alone.  Download it here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01GNNCHHQ

If you’d like to read Made for Me, a sweet sci-fi romance, first, it is available on Kindle or Kindle Unlimited at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01DZ5230G  A big thank you to the readers who have recently read it on Kindle Unlimited!

I hope you enjoy, and I thank you for reading!

-Pamela

 

 

The Writer’s Journey – Guest Author, Pamela Schloesser Canepa

Kim's Author Support Blog

Indie author finally realizes a life-long dream of sharing her writing habit with the world.

Pamela Schloesser Canepa, self-published author and Earth inhabitant.

How and when you started writing: I recall writing my first short story at age 8, when we traveled from Florida to Tennessee to visit my uncle and his family. I had to entertain myself in the car, and this came in quite handy! It was shared with family, and they all encouraged me profusely. I continued writing, for class, for myself, to exercise strong emotions, etc., but much of it was shown to no one. Still, it was good for me! I was a quiet little girl, and this helped me channel my voice.

How and when you first published: I entered poetry contests and got into vanity published books. If nothing else, it felt good. In my thirties, I published stories on my Myspace blog…

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Echoes of My Neighborhood, Sept. Entry

Sept. 9th in Jacksonville, Fl, at a lovely 91 degrees!  It was a lovely day to be outdoors in my simple, yet beautiful neighborhood.

Maybe the only thing that tells me Fall is coming is the drop in humidity lately.  For sure, the sun was still quite hot on this September day.  Yet I found the drier air to be a relief.  It seems a little more bearable, now that the storms and rainy aftermath of Hermine have left us.  It felt quite comfortable sitting outside today, for about 15 minutes, anyway!  This picture shows off some of our lovely flora and fauna in my neighborhood, as well as my neighbor’s lovely, lush green grass.  Looks just like summer, but the air is much lighter today!

Even Bixby enjoyed sitting out in the lovely air!  This photo showcases our crepe myrtle tree, still in bloom!  The grass was freshly mowed, hence the grass cuttings still sitting on top of our lawn.  It accentuates the contrast with our neighbor’s yard.  They have the best on the street!  By the way, our lawn hasn’t won any awards yet.  :)  Now, if only this picture could fully illustrate Bixby’s sniffer going wild, as it does every time we are sitting outside….

Not a very good representation of my neighborhood, but here is where I’ll end my photo illustration of this day in my neighborhood.  My dog, Bixby, ended up on alert after seeing some neighbors walk by with their dogs.  You can see his ears perked up, as he sits on edge ready to strike in the spirit of protecting me from these wild dogs and their unknown owners.  (That’s in his point of view).  You’ve got to love their protective instincts!  At any rate, it grew pretty warm and I sat in the shade for the last few minutes, then decided we should go inside since my dog simply would not come next to me to relax in the shade.  Always on guard!

“Echoes of My Neighborhood” is a weekly blog challenge started by Jacqueline Obyikocha at her blog, A Cooking Pot and Twisted Tales.  Her most recent entry can be found at http://acookingpotandtwistedtales.com/category/travel-2/dubai/echos-of-my-neighbourhood/ and illustrates her life in Dubai quite well!  Go and give it a look!

Having participated regularly over the summer in this blog challenge, I may perhaps join in every few weeks or monthly now that I’m back at work.  I am hoping my brief entry here showcases what life is like here in Florida!  That, and there’s the lovely profile of my favorite dog.