|
Why I Write
When I write, I draw on my experiences as a woman with a painful past, a rapturous wife and mother, a world traveler, and a spiritualist. For me, writing is an art form. Like an artist, the work becomes more than I imagined it would be. When I set out to write a story with a particular idea or character in mind, words I cannot claim as my own flow from a magical and mysterious place through me and onto paper. The work takes on a life of its own; it is living art. The process fascinates me, satiates me, and makes my life more meaningful.
Please read my stories! If you would like to offer me feedback on my work, please click here and sign up for a free membership: https://heftynicki.Writing.com
I hope to see you there!
|
My 15 For 15 Entries 9/18- 10/2/09 - #668972 added September 23, 2009 at 2:22pm
Restrictions: None
September 23 - Penguin
Fran closed the lap top and pulled off her glasses. She rubbed her tired eyes, reveling in the itchy relief and ignoring the insistent parental voice in her head whispering how bad it was for her eyes. She stretched her arms over her head and her back popped along the spine. She was pleased at the progress she'd made with the draft of chapter fifteen, but it was late and she needed some shut eye before work tomorrow.
Shuffling down the hardwood floored hallway, she stopped suddenly. Tilting her chin, she focused her hearing on the faint sound carrying on the still air. There it was again. It sounded like Maggie was crying.
She carefully opened Maggie's bedroom door a couple inches and hesitated, listening. A quite snuffle sounded from the darkness. She pushed the door open wider and a slash of soft light fell from her to the pink ruffled bedskirt.
"Mags, what's the matter?"
"Nothin."
Maggie walked to the edge of the bed. "Nothin sounds pretty sad," she said softly. She nudged the small form of her daughter until she moved over, then Fran snuggled down under the covers with her seven- year old.
Entwining her fingers with Maggie's she asked, "So what's really the matter?"
Maggie's voice wavered when she answered. "I miss Daddy. Why does he have to live at his house with stupid Natalie? Why can't he come back here with us?"
Fran let her breath escape slowly, noiselessly. She hugged Maggie closer to her. "Did I ever tell you the story about Adelie, the penguin?"
Maggie shook her head. Fran went on.
"Well, Adelie was a beautiful penguin living with her mothre and father in Antartica. She was very happy because her mommy and her daddy both loved her very much."
"She was lucky, both her parents lived with her," Maggie whined.
"Yes, at first," Fran said in a cheery voice. "But Adelie's father learned that there was more food on the other side of their frozen island, and he wanted to go there and not worry about where he was going to eat. Adelie's mother didn't want to go. She loved the view of the sunset from where she and Adelie lived. so the mommy and daddy decided to make Adelie's life as rich as possible, with all the sunset and kisses her mother could give her," Fran popped a kiss on Maggie's cheek, "and all the good food her father could send them from the other side of the island. And everyone lived happily ever after."
"Did Adelie's father marry an ugly old penguin named Natalie?" Maggie grumbled.
"No, silly," said Fran. "He married a beautiful bird named...Tanalie," Maggie giggled at her Mom's silly made-up name, "and they decided to have a little penguin brother or sister for Adelie."
Maggie sat up and stared at her mother. "Really?" she asked hopefully.
"Really," Fran smiled, hugging her daughter. "Now its late, you need to go to sleep."
At the door, Fran turned at Maggie's voice. "Mommy? If its a girl, maybe Daddy will call her Adelie."
"Maybe. Night night, love."
|
© Copyright 2009 NickiD89 (UN: heftynicki at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
NickiD89 has granted InkSpot.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
