Syndicated on BlogHer you say?

On December 7th I began blogging, my first post was called Initiating.

I didn’t expect to fall in love with blogging, or to finally understand the fun of Twitter. It only took me 3 months to “get it”.

So here I am an offical blogger (2nd post and I claimed that) and today is a HUGE day for me!!

Today I’m being syndicated on BlogHer!!!!

Oh Yeahhhhhhhhhhhh!!

BlogHer is an amazing site featuring articles from women from around the world.
I have spent more time on this site than I’d care to admit, there are just so many topics I cannot get enough.
This is a pretty HUGE deal to me and I would truly appreciate if you’d show me some love by stopping by there, reading my post and commenting.
I’m begging here folks, throw me a bone or summit.

Slaughter on Park Lane

This is a Fiction piece written in response to the prompt on a website I love, The Red Dress Club.
The prompt was “In the middle of the night, you get an urgent call from a friend you haven’t talked to in years. Something terrible has happened. What is it and why is he/she calling you?”

After a very long, trying day my breath exploded from my body as I dropped my suitcases in the entryway. While nudging the door closed with my hip I kicked off my pumps and sighed with relief. I steadied myself with a hand on the wall, my head pounded and there was a ringing in my ears.
My only thought was of a hot shower and getting changed into what my fashion forward friends condescendingly referred to as my “Mumu”.
I didn’t care what they called it; in my mind that body length fleece hoodie was a God-send at times when I needed to unwind.
Ignoring my luggage at the front door I made my way to the bathroom while shedding my body of the oppressive business suit.  The cold bathroom tile felt wonderful on my swollen feet as I turned on shower on.
With the pulse of the hot water upon my scalp the stresses of the day seemed to float away, the delayed flight, horrible traffic and inept law clerk working under me were a thing of the past.
I was caught up in the soothing heat and the fragrance of the products as I lazily bathed.
Feeling refreshed and relaxed I found myself humming while towelling off and had to smile, I’d better not quit my day job I thought to myself. Glancing in the mirror I caught sight of myself and wondered what the folks from my hometown would think if they could see me now. Would anyone have imagined I’d end up as a Lawyer in “The Big City”?
Slipping on my “Mumu” I made my way into the kitchen to check for phone messages when suddenly it rang. My eyes instantly went to the clock on the microwave.
 “Bloody hell its 2:30am, who could that be?”
Bound with anxiety my tense arm reached out and I snatched up the receiver.
“Hello?” I said too quickly in that horror movie way.
“Macy, Is that you?” was the response in a calm accented voice I couldn’t mistake.
“Boyd, wha…” I floundered for understanding, leaning against the wall for support.
My mind raced, I hadn’t seen or heard from Boyd since the Law school graduation party fiasco. Thoughts raced through my head, Where did he live? Why is he calling? How did he get my number? My heart was pounding, nervous energy flooded through me.
“Macy, listen carefully I know it’s late but you need to hear me, are you awake enough?”
“Yes I just got in from a flight…..what’s going on?” I softly asked, fearing the response.
“You have to meet me first think in the morning at the Courthouse, I need your help.”
Breathing a sigh of relief my thought was “Okay its work related, this I can handle!”
Relaxing my muscles while straightening my posture I smiled to myself as I put on my game face and the attitude to match.
 “What makes you think I’m available for a phone call at this hour or that I would take on a new case?”
He sighed deeply into the other end of the phone “You haven’t checked your voicemail yet have you?”
In my oh-so- important Lawyer voice I haughtily repeated that I’d been out of town and was just getting home.
There was a long pause and in a much softer tone he said “Macy I hate to have to tell you like this but there’s been a situation at your parent’s home.”
Again there was a pause as my pulse throbbed in my throat, my facial skin felt tight and itchy from the lack of moisturizer, I stared at the Lilac candle on the shelf in front of me, and the ringing in my ears began again.
I felt my brain closing down, avoiding hearing what he had to say next.
But I heard it, that terrible thing that he said.
The Unthinkable.
“Macy your Mother has been arrested for the murder of your father tonight and she needs us at the courthouse tomorrow.”
There it was, the tragedy which would forever change my life with its bloody gore and its media tagline “Slaughter on Park Lane”.

The Insensitivity of Youth

This is a Fiction piece written in response to the prompt on a website I love, The Red Dress Club.
Someone has stolen something from you (or your character). Something of tremendous value. What will you do to get it back? Or will you give up?
The sun was hot on Cheryl’s forehead as she sauntered along with the type of self-absorbed confidence only an over indulged pre-teen can. From a house behind her a girl of approximately the same age hustled out the door yelling her name trying to catch up to Cheryl. Cheryl didn’t alter her course; there was a slight tilt to her head and rising of her chin in response to the call.
“Hi Cheryl, I love your top, it’s really hot out today huh?” the girl said quickly as she stumbled into step with Cheryl.
With a sideways glance Cheryl responded “Did you get it?”
The girl hiked her backpack higher on her shoulders and hastily said “Oh yeah, here, but I need it back at the end of school” as she held out a bracelet she had been carrying.
Cheryl clipped the sliver cuff on carelessly with a sly smile on her face, “Okay, so now you’re my best friend for the day and you can sit beside me at lunch.”
The other girl smiled happily and they continued down the road towards Canterbury Middle School.
Anyone observing would quickly notice Cheryl’s appearance of confidence, her stylish attire and knowing gaze. They might hear the other girl’s nervous laugh at each exchange between them, notice how she fidgeted and seemed to fawn over Cheryl.
You see the other girl was me. I was 12 and I really wanted to be Cheryl’s friend. Cheryl personified everything I wished I was. She was popular, pretty and smart.
She even had a boyfriend!
We had been in school together since kindergarten and although our Mothers had once been friends we hadn’t been friends in years.
Everything changed when my Mom died.
Oh what it would mean when the kids at school knew she’s my friend!
I’d get invited to boy & girl parties, I could eat lunch with the cool kids; people would talk to me finally!
I couldn’t wait.
That day was wonderful!
Children I had known forever suddenly paid attention to me, gave me friendly smiles and included me. I ate lunch at a table full of people talking with me, far away from my regular table where it was quiet and lonely.
This one lovely day at school in Grade 7 changed my perception.
These kids showed me what it felt like to belong again.
On the walk home from school that day Cheryl gave me back my bracelet and said “See ya”.
I was so happy I gave it no thought; I told her I’d see her tomorrow and rushed home to gush into my diary, capturing each event in detail.
I still read that diary wondering at the insensitivity of youth.
You see the next day when I arrived at school and animatedly began telling Cheryl and her friends about my evening at the Car Show with my Dad I was greeted with blank stares.
I’ll never forget the feeling of my heart sinking as the understanding began to dawn. I pushed that feeling aside and valiantly tried harder to engage each one of them in conversation.
The change would have looked subtle to an outsider but I knew in my heart that I was excluded, alone again.
I watched with a cold heart as they all walked away from me, together as a group.
When Cheryl turned around and walked back towards me my heart began to warm up, hope was filling me.
“Don’t look so sad, the deal was just for yesterday.”
As I watched her walk away the sense of belonging left me yet again.