Five Sentence Fiction - Zombie

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This weeks FSF prompt is zombie ....  Ummm, thanks Lille ;)

Not only have I never written horror, I've never watched much either and I wasn't entirely sure what a zombie really was.

So, in my quest to know everything I popped over to google.  Many cultures believe in the existence of zombies and they take several different forms.

'According to the tenets of Vodou, a dead person can be revived by a bokor, or sorcerer. Zombies remain under the control of the bokor since they have no will of their own. '

As I wanted to continue with last weeks story  I have used this as a 'loose' basis for this weeks piece:

Barely noticing the cool damp air touching her face, the weak warmth of the sun as it struggled to burn through the early morning mist, the sweet cloud of lavender that filled the air as she brushed past or the cobwebs glistening like jewels in the hedgerow she was empty, devoid of all emotion.

One foot in front of the other, her mind so far detached from reality it was as though she were moving out of sync with the rest of the world as it rushed past her in a blur of colour and noise.

For a brief moment last night she had made her own choices, controlled her own destiny, her soul set free so that finally, finally she could find herself again.

 Or so she had thought ...

For only the foolish could believe that the bokor would willingly relinquish that power.

Sleepless In Somerset

Last night was night four of very little sleep.  It's an improvement on Thursday and Friday when I got no sleep at all so I guess I should be grateful.

I'm tired.  I'm really, really, really fucking tired!

I almost wrote a blog post at four this morning.  I'm glad I didn't or I might have spent most of today trying to backtrack on it.

You know the worst thing about insomnia?

BOREDOM.

There is nothing more boring than being awake when your mind is so tired you cant make sense of anything.  You can't do anything much if other people are sleeping.  You don't want to wake those you share a house with.  No one much else is around to talk to.  The stuff in your head is so mixed up that you probably wouldn't make any sense at all anyway. You wouldn't be able to express the crap that's churning around in your mind because mostly it doesn't make sense to you either.

Insomnia is lonely.  It makes you feel totally isolated.  It makes mountains out of molehills.  It makes you focus on the negatives and it makes you feel powerless.

I really fucking HATE insomnia!

Now obviously I'm still in zombie mode.  I've actually achieved quite a lot today all on auto pilot.  I rarely, if ever give into the urge to sleep during the day, it's not the solution and only means that another sleepless night is a certainty rather than just a possibility.  I know my brain isn't firing on all cylinders today but that's ok, it doesn't really need to but I can keep my body going in the hope that exhaustion will finally win and tonight I'll sleep.

I haven't always suffered from insomnia.  In fact it's only in the last few years that Ive had night after night of no sleep.  It's not a constant in my life.  I can't always work out whats triggered it and I find that giving it too much thought only prolongs it.

I can be happy and have insomnia or, as is more usually the case, I can have things in my life that make me unhappy or cause me stress.  I guess the common denominator is that I have things on my mind.

Ive never been big on sleep (which was a bonus when I had one 13 month old and a new born baby).  I don't understand lie ins, I really don't.  I can understand the relief of not having to get up for an alarm just not the 'not getting up' part of it.  But that's me and I fully appreciate that others see lying in bed until lunchtime on a weekend as a well deserved luxury.

Insomnia isn't about having the odd sleepless night because something's on your mind.  That's normal.  It's crap and it gets people down but usually it fairly isolated and explainable (is that a word???).

Insomnia feeds on itself and yes, I know I said I try not to focus on it too much but that's during the day, at night there IS no escape.

It first started after the breakdown of my marriage.  Another of ex lax's legacies I guess (god bless him for being so giving ;).

During the day Id worry about the usual stuff that people worry about in those situations but at night my fears would become totally irrational.

My main fear was that the house would burn down.  Now, if you've read a few of my 'shitty house' posts then you might not see that as so irrational!

The truth is that I'm fairly sure my house is safe and there isn't any danger of it exploding or spontaneously combusting but, in the early hours of the morning that wasn't really any comfort to me as I lay in bed planning escape routes.  I also used to worry that something would happen to one of the children or to me so I couldn't look after them.  Again, not totally irrational fears given the circumstances but intensified to the point where I felt I had to make all sorts of contingency plans 'just in case'.

Over time these fears have lessened.  I can see that they were mostly a product of an exhausted, overwrought, over active imagination. These days I rarely get the nightmares that filled the few hours sleep I did get and left me in a pile of tangled, sweat soaked sheets .

Life has gone on and I've moved past much of that.  Occasionally it make a brief return and sometimes it's hard to distinguish between the nightmares and reality.  But life IS mostly good.  My health has improved dramatically.  My weight has been fairly stable this year with the odd dip but nothing too serious.  I've spent hours decorating, improving my house which (despite the fact that I still have things to do) gives me an enormous amount of pleasure.

But the insomnia still haunts me and I'm soooo fucking tired of it (very bad pun intended;).

I don't know what it would take to sort this ....

Hmmm, actually, you know what?  That might not be true because like so many people I'm too fond of saying 'I'm ok' when the reality is that I'm not.  Possibly the only place I will say it is here on my blog.  The thing is that I bury the things that make me not ok so deep these days that nobody really knows they are there.  Even I don't acknowledge them because, under lock and key they cant hurt me can they?  I can carry on my life, loving, living, laughing (and it's all real, it's not a pretence, there's plenty of loving, living and laughing going on I promise you).  That's what people do isn't it.  It's called survival because each and every one of us have things burried that can hurt us if we let them.

Except ...  they do hurt me don't they?  They are the reason I cant sleep.  They may be buried but they aren't dead and keeping me awake is their way of reminding me they exist.

No one lives a life without these things.  I'm not unique and I'm not alone.  I'm unlucky that it affects me in this particular way that's all.

I guess you may be thinking that the solution would be to confront these things.  If you do then you could be right but then again, you could be wrong.  I may have confronted some of them in the past and nothings changed.  There may be things that would actually be made worse if I did confront them (and not everything IS better out in the open).  There may be things that are just too fucking painful to dig up and actually insomnia is the lesser of two evils.

I don't necessarily advocate burying or ignoring things.  I don't actually think it's the answer for most people but it is a choice that most of us make.  Sometimes being honest about things or even being honest with ourselves is the hardest thing in the world and so we're not and, if there are answers out there, solutions, a way forward that could bring us happiness or at least peace then we will never hear them because we are too afraid to ask. and too busy pretending we are ok.

That's just really fucking sad isn't it?

You know how I feel right now?  No, it's not depressed.  I've been there and this is something different.

I feel melancholy.  

Now that's a great, very underused word that describes exactly how I feel right now.  I don't know what the dictionary definition is (and for once I'm not going to google it).  For me melancholy is an innate sense of sadness, of pensive thought, a yearning for ... well, for whatever.

I guess I've been dwelling a little on my last post.  There comes a point where it really is too late and what then?

Like I said, I'm tired.  This is most definitely one of those posts written at one of those times where if I had any sense I'd leave it in draft for at least 24 hours before deleting it.

Well insomnia ate my common sense so fuck it, I'm publishing and I'll be back to backtrack like crazy tomorrow ok ;)

I Remember

Eleven years ago today tragedy touched my family.

The day before had been a beautiful day spent in the garden with my sister and brother in law.  My sister was six months pregnant.  They were so happy and so looking forward to the birth of their first child.

That night Mario suffered a heart attack, he was 45, a year younger than I am now.

Words can hardly describe the horror and total disbelief that this could have happened.

Mario was one of the kindest, most gentle men I have ever had the privilege to know.

He wasn't just my brother in law, he was family and I loved him

I don't apologise for a re posting. As long as I still have my blog I shall re post this every year on the anniversary of his death as a tribute to a man for whom I had enormous respect, affection and love for.


I Remember Mario

I remember the look of pride and sheer joy in his eyes as he placed his hand on her swollen stomach. ‘My little Piranha’ he said.

They smiled at the private joke, sharing a moment of complete happiness amid the chaos and noise of a family get together.

The plate of food lay forgotten on the table as he crouched down to talk to the young boy playing with his Action Man

.

Seeing her brother being paid so much attention caused the little girl to forget her shyness of this big man with the big voice. She toddled towards him and gently touched his face, ‘kiss’ she said as she lent forward and placed her lips where her fingers had been.

He looked at me and smiled. ‘This is what it’s all about’ he said without words, ‘this is who I was meant to be’.

When the phone call came early the next morning it made no sense at all. Years have passed and it still makes no sense.

He never met his beautiful girl. She didn’t get to kiss his cheek.

But while she may not have her own memories, as long as I remember, she will have mine.

Be happy and remember, that while when you lose someone, you don't ever get back the opportunity to do what you wished you had done, every moment leading up to that IS an opportunity to fulfil that wish.

Say What???

Ok, so I just logged onto Facebook and thought I'd share this gem with you. 

Now I have a few people on my friends list (and it's not a big list through choice but I've been through all that before once or twice... ;).

What I do have is a few people left over from the early days, mostly relatives of Ex Lax.  They mostly seem harmless enough and to be honest, I'm not sure some of them even know him personally, it's a pretty big and convoluted family.

Anyway, like you do when you first join FB (or like I did anyway), I accepted any friends requests that came my way, mostly because it seemed rude not to.  I'm a lot less polite these days and I've trimmed down my friends list to people I either actively want to know about or people that don't particularly offend me.

This has left me with one or two of Ex Laxs relatives.  A couple I've grown to like (pretty sure none of them are related to him by blood ;), a couple who I keep for entertainment value (it's a little like having my own private series of Eastenders on tap) and one or two I forget are there they post so irregularly.

Every now and then one of them posts something that has me in stitches.  Who could EVER forget this classic from ...  Well, lets just call her C:

 " i can not belive the swear words a couple of little kids were comin out with up the playschool right in front of their mum and she dint say shit about it wtf just goes to show who they learnt it from, so glad my lilman is such a gd boy x"

I don't think C does irony but she certainly makes me laugh!

Today I'm confused.  I just logged on to find THIS update from K:

" 'K' is fucking fumming"

I am genuinely at a loss to know if she did in fact mean fuming (and if so, why?) or if this is some strange sexual practise I'm unfamiliar with. 

After my experience when I googled 'Hogtied' - yes, yes, I know NOW ok but for those of you who missed that post (and for those who are interested in stats, it's interestingly the post I get the most hits on ;), I had confused it briefly with 'hamstrung', a perfectly easy mistake to make ... isn't it ... yes, of course it is!

I don't want to google it in case my computer crashes and I have to take it in for repair.

Anyway, so far there has been no follow up so I'm still in the dark about this one. 

Anybody either know the answer or want to google it for me .....

A Shitty Ditty

Oh god, excuse the title but once it was in my head there was NO shifting it!

On the plus side, at least I'm blogging again ;).

I thought it was time to lighten the mood a little and what better way than with a little poetry:


The wheels fell off my Vax today
It's really the last fecking straw
I kicked it's blue arse out of the way
And for good measure slammed the door

My washing machine exploded you know
With a great big fecking BOOM!
You should have heard my wail of woe
As the stench of burning filled the room

My dishwasher made a chirruping sound
But nothing seemed really awry
Until something flew out (it was small and round)
And almost took out my eye!

My steamer's bust (although there's still steam)
It's just nothings ever cooked
It's like my appliances are on the same team
As they laugh at me - 'YOU'RE FOOKED'!

*and don't even get me STARTED on the affect I have on cars ;)

Five Sentence Fiction - Awkward

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Linking up with Lillie McFerrin for five sentence fiction - click on the button above to read the other entries.

What it’s all about: Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week Lillie will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just use it for direction.

This week: AWKWARD




Waking slowly, unfamiliar shadows dappling her face, her body slick with sweat, limbs heavy in a long forgotten yet familiar way.

Cautiously stretching her legs she eased them gently from beneath the covers feeling for the polished boards under her feet.

As she pushed with the palms of her hands sliding into a sitting position her reflection was caught in the mirror facing the bed.

A tableau captured in a moment of time, hair damp and dishevelled, make up smudged beneath her eyes and beside her, his breath a whisper in the silence, a faint smile curving his lips, lashed tipped with gold, heatbreakingly beautiful, heatbreakingly wrong.

She turned away, her eyes shining with unfallen tears as the heavy scent of regret stole across the room.

I Really Want A Linen Press

Ok, at this point I should really confess that I'm not entirely sure WHAT a linen press is but that doesn't stop me wanting one!

Of course, along with the linen press I'd like a French farm house complete with red bricked, walled vegetable garden and a donkey in the orchard ...

Failing that, I'd quite like an airing cupboard.  I never really appreciated how lovely it was to have a cupboard full of warm, sweet smelling towels and sheets until I got my combi boiler.  I might have hot water on tap these days  but is it really such a great substitute for a tank full of hot water that you can warm your PJ's on in the winter?

I woke up to brilliant blue skies and warm September sunshine this morning and decided that as my washing machine is still f*cked I would hand wash some bedding ....

I have some really stupid ideas!  Do you have any idea how hard it is to wring out sheets and duvet covers by hand?  I hope not and let me tell you, you really don't want to know.  The bloody things will probably take 3 days to dry and that's if it doesn't sodding rain!

It's not like I even HAD to do them by hand.  SD offered to take a load over to the farm this evening and run them through for me but it SEEMED like a good idea at the time.

They do smell nice though and it might save me watering the flowerbed under the washing line.  Hopefully the plants wont object to Ariel flavoured water.

Would it surprise you if I said I'm not really sure where this post is going ...

'No really!' I hear you gasp ....  (Or maybe not ;)

It was going to be about how wanting things (even when you're not really sure what they are) can actually blind you to the things that you do have.

It could have been a 'grateful' post and I could have told you that while I may not have a washing machine right now I'm grateful that I'm able to wash by hand and that I have a garden I can dry it in but hang on ....

I've never really been good at the grateful posts.  Id rather lie on the floor drumming my heels at the fact that not only did my washing machine blow up but the wheels fell off my bloody Vax the other day!  It doesn't actually fix anything but it does make me feel a bit better!

I am not ungrateful for any of the things I have but right now I'm a little restless.  I want something more.  I'm not talking material things, yep, that WOULD be nice but I'm not that bothered.  I guess what I am talking about is personal fulfilment (ok, I confess yet again to not being entirely sure what that means either ;).

For one reason or another I've been drifting for too long.  I've had the beginings of plans that I haven't seen through and Im frustrated with myself.

I've been reading some of the many RUOK posts.  I've considered writing my own as I did last year but I haven't, and I probably wont because the timing doesn't seem right for me.

Maybe I have everything here that I need right now and I'm just not seeing it.  Maybe I'm investing too much time thinking about the things I think I want to see that what I have is actually worth so much more.

Ok, emo post alert!!!

Now that's REALLY not how this post was designed to turn out, who knew that hand washing a couple of sheets could have that affect on a person?

From now on I'll stick to shocking my neighbours by hanging my (probably far too frivolous) smalls on the line :-)