Pinterest is my New Addiction

SO I have yet to be "accepted" onto pinterest and therefore cannot pin things that I find AMAZING onto a wall so... this is where I shall do that!  I'm hoping to get a new creative post up here in a few days, but until then, enjoy:

Much love - Sami Rae

lucky me.

you make my world complete.
and I'm not trying to sound like Jerry McGuire here, I honestly mean it.
without you, I don't know how I'd get through a day.
I honestly don't know how I made it through the first fifteen years of my life before you came along.
it's as if I'd been waiting for you.
it's as if I knew you were waiting for me.
it's as if we were meant for one another.
and I'm not trying to sound like some sappy romantic girl obsessed with soul mates and impossible love.
I mean it just as it sounds.

everyone tells me how lucky I am to have a man like you.
but I don't need their validation or observations.
I already know.
I know how lucky I was to find you on the first try.
I know how lucky I am to still have you.
I know how lucky I'll always be to keep you.

I don't know if love at first sight is real or not,
but I think I knew right away with you.
I remember how you took my breath away,
even if we were both so nervous,
that first time you kissed me.
I remember how the butterflies stayed long after I thought they were supposed to.
I remember how I never wanted to be without you,
and how I still don't.

people tell me after so many years you just start to expect the other person to just be there,
and that the love fades,
and that the affection slowly dwindles,
and that the butterflies will never show again...
but they don't really know you and me.
because even after all these years,
I still get them.
and you can still take my breath away.
and I always want to be touching you, holding you, right beside you.
and I'll never want to be without you,
ever.

I know I'm lucky to have found you,
especially on the first go.
and I hope that in fifty years when we have three kids, a fabulous house, and a life worth bragging about,
that you can still say the same about me too.
because I know that my feelings for you will never change.
call it loyalty,
comfort,
routine,
or quite simply,

love.

i.
love.
you.

always have, and always will.

Bittersweet

So, I have completed it.  I have accomplished a small portion of what I've set out to do.  My first book in the series "The Hidden Lives of Succubi" has been completed (and after a week-long hiatus, I'll be right back at it, writing book two).  I've titled it simply Temptation.  It took me, ohhhh I dunno, well over six months from start to finish, but hell who's counting?  My next step is to get it out there for the world to fall in love with (: (hopefully) and anticipate the next book in the series.  I'll be self-publishing it as an ebook through the AMAZING site, Smashwords.com.  In case you're unaware of it's awesomeness:

Welcome to Smashwords! Smashwords is an ebook publishing and distribution platform for ebook authors, publishers, agents and readers. We offer multi-format, DRM-free ebooks, ready for immediate sampling and purchase, and readable on any e-reading device.

For readers, Smashwords provides an opportunity to discover new voices in all categories and genres of the written word. Once you register, the site offers useful tools for search, discovery and personal library-building.  Each week we add new features based on feedback from members.

At Smashwords, our authors and publishers have complete control over the sampling, pricing and marketing of their written works.

Smashwords is ideal for publishing novels, short fiction, poetry, personal memoirs, monographs, non-fiction, research reports, essays, or other written forms that haven’t even been invented yet.

It's free to publish and distribute with Smashwords.

You'll be able to view and purchase my current and future self-published works by accessing my personal site Samantha's Smashwords!!!  

I'll also be posting links to my work(s) on my Facebook, Twitter, and of course you can access my page anytime by clicking the button link on the right hand side of my blog (the pic of the books in the sidebar over there), so please continue to come back and see what updates I have and what other work I'll be posting (hopefully) weekly just like I have been in the past :)  I also have the ability to make and distribute coupons for my work, so for the first week of it's release, please enjoy THIS:

Just enter the code prior to checkout to receive a FREE download :) And hey... SPREAD THE WORD!

---------> Direct link for Temptation HERE <----------

I've been working with amazing people on this project as well.  

** A dear friend from college, Kayla Henry (visit her blog HERE or her Facebook page HERE) is doing me a solid to get me some readers, and is conducting a giveaway for a bunch of vendors and has graciously decided to enter me in the mix with a coupon for ONE FREE DOWNLOAD for my ebook to one of her winners!!  If you're interested in this, please head over to her page for more information!!  This is for a limited time only, so don't miss out!!

** Another fantastic lady, Jessica Bazenet (visit her blog HERE or her Facebook page HERE) is also spreading the word to her many readers and fans about my venture.  She's been amazing enough to post up 2 blips about me (first one is HERE if you're interested) on her blog and provide her readers with the same FREE coupon as well in her more recent post about me!

** Then of course there's the amazing Matt East.  He is the creator and designer of the cover of my book:

You can check out his other artistic work on his Facebook page HERE or his tumblr HERE and his own writing on his blog HERE.  He's been FANTASTIC doing this for me out of the kindness of his heart and promotion of his name alone... oh and his work is phenomenal!  More than I could've ever hoped for.

** Last, but not least, is Ryan Booker.  He's a photographer (visit his Facebook page HERE) who provided me with two very incredible photos (at an extremely decent price) to portray the main female character in the book, which I included in my self-made book trailer:

If you want ANY information on more about what these people are capable of, 

please don't hesitate to ask!!

MORE THANKS THAN I CAN GIVE to these four, incredibly talented people!!

Many many many thanks to all the people who've helped me along the way in finally starting the ball rolling on my biggest dream ever.  (Sure you may think this is too soon because who's to say this will be successful - but the simple fact that I've gotten this far is good enough for me!!)
                    Firstly, thanks goes to God.  There would be no me without You, quite literally.  Thank You for blessing me the ability to do what I love to do and the means to see it through.  I hope You continue to shower me with the overwhelming amount of support and love I've received thus far in my life.  "Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in Him; and He shall bring it to pass" - Psalm 37:5
                    Secondly, to my husband, James.  Without your support (both financially and emotionally) I wouldn't have been able (or continue to be able) to spend 24/7 pouring my heart and soul into this project, and it certainly would've taken me A LOT longer to finish this.  I appreciate you being my sounding board and helping me make my characters more believable, taking time to give me feedback whenever I needed it.  I know that your taste in literature is far from what I create, and you always go above and beyond, making sure to help me anytime you can in anyway you can.  Thank you, my love, for pushing me to always be a better version of myself and for never missing a chance to boast about me.  You are my rock.
                    Next, to Uncle Ray.  You have been the best and most vocal supporter and most avid reader in our family, and you've honestly inspired and supported me more than I could've hoped for.  Even from 2500 miles away, your voice resonated and filled me with hope, encouragement, and praise.  Thank you for being such an amazing person, dad, uncle, and teacher, among many other things.  Oh, and thanks for being the first person to officially read and proofread my final product.
                    And to the rest of my family members.  Thank you for never telling me I was crazy for what I decided to do with my life.  You are always encouraging and supportive.  I love you all.  Mom and Dad - you two always told me I could do anything, and even though it scared the crap out of you when I came home with a degree in English, you kept a brave face through it.  Sure, I'm not rollin' in dough, but you raised a daughter who's happiness stems from the joy she receives in creating, not the monetary rewards she gets for her hard work.  Joey - you are the most amazing brother a girl could ask for.  You never doubt me and you always know that whatever I do, I'll succeed.  Thanks for also being a major player in the final editing of my work - you helped keep me focused and I needed that.  I'm honored that you want to follow in my footsteps and graduate with an English degree.  Just remember, cut your own path and do what feels right for you.  I'll always be proud of you no matter what and even more proud when you show me up!
                    Next, to my readers.  Even if you've only read one thing I've had to say, thank you.  Even if you don't purchase my work, thank you taking time to hear me out.  I hope I have left and continue to leave a lasting impression on each and every one of you, enough at least to give you pause, even if only for a moment.  I'd love you to keep returning to read more of what I have to say, as my sole intention as a writer is to share and be remembered.
                     Last, and certainly not least, I couldn't have gotten through a minute of writing without select artists from my iTunes playlist: Mogwai, The Cinematic Orchestra, Debussy, Ludovico Einaudi, Angus & Julia Stone, City & Color, Mazzy Star, Florence & The Machine, & GYPE (just to name a few)!

"My aim is to put down on paper what I see and what I feel in the best and simplest way."

- Ernest Hemingway

"Put it before them briefly so they will read it, clearly so they will appreciate it, picturesquely so they will remember it, and above all, accurately so they will be guided by its light."

- Joseph Pulitzer

“The purpose of a writer is to keep civilization from destroying itself.” 

- Albert Camus

My task...is, by the power of the written word to make you hear, to make you feel - it is, before all, to make you see. That - and no more - and it is everything.

- Joseph Conrad

Thanks for reading (:  Come back soon!

Effects of a well-written book

**Definitely contains spoilers about The Hunger Games books - you are forewarned.

        So I literally just finished the final book in "The Hunger Games" trilogy by Suzanne Collins and I have to tell you, it left me a bit perplexed.  I can honestly say that in all my years of reading, and trust me, I've read more books than I could ever begin to account for, no series has EVER left me this... wanting?  Affected?  Emotional?  I can't quite put it into words, and it sort of freaks the hell out of me.  I became more vested in the characters that Ms. Collins created than I care to admit.  I found myself more angered, more altered, more fixated than I thought I was capable of being with imaginary people.  Some of you may not understand the relationship between a reader and her protagonist, and most of you can never understand the relationship between a writer and her characters, but I can honestly say... maybe I hadn't really understood the former fully until after I ventured into the world of Panem.
        The whole thing was riveting and shocking.  At first I was a little put off by the present tense tone and care-free, yet striking attitude with which the main character Katniss encountered and relayed the world with which she was unfortunate enough to be born into.  But as I vested hour upon hour into understanding the world that Collins created, I grasped just how striking and genius it was to write her that way.  It pulled me in, made me feel connected with this girl and I found myself confused, harmed, pissed off, and even touched by the moments that were woven into the plot.  And my pull into that world only intensified as I entered into the third book.  I sort of knew what was coming; I mean what good series kills off the hero - ummm pretty much none - so it's not like the author had laid out a new game-plan (no offense or anything), it definitely had it's predictable moments.  But it also had it's chewing-to-the-quick, blood-pressure rising, page-turning twists and turns.
        What I did discover, though, was that I became overly annoyed with yet another love-triangle type of story line, not entirely grasping why it must always be that way, though please understand I would NEVER classify this as a romance, so this definitely isn't the driving force behind the plot.  BUT what is it about society that we are so indecisive and selfish and greedy that we're unable to just be faithful to who and what we are?  Why must we second guess ourselves constantly and not be satisfied with the things and people and opportunities in front of us?  Sure - if this were the case then the freaking book wouldn't have been written because then there would be no rebellion.  But my point is that, must love always be so complicated? Must emotions always trick us?  Can we never just ask ourselves, "What am I doing and why can't I just make up my mind?"  Katniss does in the end, but to what end?  I'm left with this overwhelming feeling that someone must always lose out.  That not everyone can be satisfied.  That is always left to the two main protagonists in every story and it's sickening.  As a writer, yes I've been guilty of this myself because it makes for interesting reading... but what about real life?  Who ever just writes about real life?  No one - and I'll tell you why... because it's boring.  Right?  You read to escape reality.  You read to lose yourself in worlds that couldn't ever possibly exist in the here and now.  The fact that these books are post-apocalyptic speaks volumes to that.  The success of books like the Twilight series, the Immortals series, the Vampire Diaries, the Morganville Vampire Series, the Secret Circle series, the Harry Potter series, the House of Night series... I could keep going - all of these books are riddled with anything BUT the mundane, everyday life of normal people.  And hell, right now I'm writing something supernatural myself so I know I've been sucked in as well.
         But it all brings me back to why?  The ending of the last book, Mockingjay just didn't sit well with me.  There were so many expectations I had, so many assumptions I'd made and had practically convinced myself were true.  There is definitely a message that she's trying to convey underneath all the gore, fighting, romance, longing - I get that.  I understand her call to us to not forget the past and not become complacent with the present.  To not allow yourself to get lost in what the society has dubbed as normal or appropriate.  I see her urging us, in her satyric way, to step the hell away from our obsessions with media and electronics and instant gratification and the overly-publicized and often dramatized way of the wicked wicked world - our disgusting fondness and desensitization to life and death.  But in the end, I simply found myself just staring off into the abyss.  After all the messages I received loud and clear I find myself obsessing over the final choice Katniss made - she chose Peeta.  Why, because he was more damaged and she didn't want to leave him to suffer an eternity alone?  Because he knew more of what she'd gone through?  Because he'd sacrificed himself for her over and over and over again?  Because he was her symbol of rebirth and life all because of the bread and that stupid dandelion?  What about Gale?  Gale who practically saved her and her family from starvation by teaching her the way of the forest after her father died.  Gale who was her rock and connection to sanity in a world where nothing was meant to be enjoyable.  Gale who cared for and protected her family when she was incapable of doing so.  Gale, who after watching her throw herself at Peeta during the games, didn't renig on his agreement out of selfishness and anger.  Gale who later risked his life for her in ways Peeta became unable to.  The whole thing just angers me in a way I can't rationalize or overcome.  Don't get me wrong, I have empathy for Peeta, I understand he's damaged and he needs someone because everyone he held close to him other than Katniss was killed.  Either way, because of the love triangle, someone was bound to be left out, disappointed, crushed.  I guess she just ended up choosing the person she felt couldn't survive without her, not the other way around as Gale had suggested to Peeta during the final moments they all struggled for their lives together.
        All-in-all it's an excellent read and I highly recommend it to anyone - though if you haven't read it, this post will surely ruin it for you (you were warned, sorry).  And maybe it's the overly-analytical literary mind I possess that has me pouring my thoughts out to you all over these books, but I find it quite exhausting that I'm almost incapable of enjoying them as I hoped I would.  I find that all I can fester over is the fact that, although I could've never written these in the way that Suzanne Collins did, there were so many things I would've changed.  I guess that's just my curse as a writer.
       

A little taste...

Ello lovies (:

So I've decided that I'm going to self-publish an e-book series.  I'm currently in the process of writing the 1st book in the series, of which I'll probably make three or four, haven't decided yet.  But it's the second "novel" I've ever worked on and intend to actually complete.  The first one, though it's my baby, isn't really that good and it has absolutely NOTHING to do with the plot of this current project.  In the future I might publish it just to get more work out there, but as of now, I'm keeping it under lock and key.  I'm proud of it, don't get me wrong, but it's not really what I want to represent myself in the beginning.  Anyway - this series, which I have yet to title as a whole - is along the supernatural side and is set in a more adult format while still maintaining a "young adult" quality.  It's a paranormal romance of sorts and so far I find that I'm impressing even myself a bit (not to sound conceited or anything).  Some of the connections I've made and actual real history and mythology I've introduced are clever and I'm seriously looking forward to developing it more - but mostly I'm super stoked about making myself public.  Sure it'd be nice to make a little money off of it - but that's not why I'm doing this.  I set my goal to be published by 25 and it seems in this day and age the best and quickest way to get out there is to do it yourself.  So that's what I'm doing.  The purpose of this is to simply gauge if anyone is interested in what I'm writing.  Here's a tiny little blip from my currently unfinished manuscript - and though it doesn't really give any hint of supernatural in this particular clip, trust me the whole thing is littered with it.  If it gets positive enough reactions I might just post another taste later on.  Here goes nothing, a small excerpt from the first novel (in my untitled series) Temptation:

            “Let’s just be honest.  You’ve done everything you can to tell me you’re not interested, and sure, like you said before, you think I’m attractive, that’s great.  But it doesn’t mean you’re actually into me.  And if you’re just giving this a go with me because you’re hoping you’ll learn to like me or are holding out hope that you develop feelings for me… please don’t do that.  I don’t want to force you into anything, you should know that by now, but I need honesty so that I don’t get so vested in this.  I want to be in your life in whatever form you’re willing, but if my heart is going to be shattered, I need it done now before I fall in love with you.”

            I didn’t realize that I was talking so fast, but as soon as I stopped talking, I felt my heart pounding and how deeply my chest was heaving up and down.  My swollen hand wasn’t even an issue anymore.  I’d actually balled both hands into fists, my knuckles turning white, and I realized how desperate and intense I sounded.  I was scaring myself with the emotions swirling around inside me and how I’d projected them.  I’d always been the guy who kept his feelings and thoughts to himself; this wasn’t normal for me and I was beginning to worry that maybe I was more dysfunctional than I thought I was.

            She broke up my internal debate, “You say it with such conviction,” she whispered.

            Her response threw me and my reaction was more involuntary than anything, “Say what?”

            She looked into my eyes, but fear and caution were what lurked on her face, which I found an odd reaction to what came out of her mouth.

 “That you’ll fall in love with me.  Like it’s bound to happen.  As if you’re already in the process of falling.”

            “Well…” I said, licking my dry lips before continuing, “that’s probably because I am.”

            She looked away then said, “Okay.  Then I should clear up any confusion, because breaking your heart is not in my plan.”

            She slowly let her head rise back up and when she looked at me this time, the fear was still prevalent, but I interpreted it as fear of putting herself out there, fear of rejection.

            Before I could speak, she cut in, “I don’t know why you came up with the crazy idea that I don’t have feelings for you, because believe me… I do.  There’s something about you that draws me in, something I… have no control over, as cliché as that sounds.”

            “No, no…” I interjected, “I know exactly what you’re talking about.  I don’t want to seem chauvinistic, but I’ve been with a lot of girls and I’ve never, ever felt this with any of them before.  There’s this… I dunno, magnetism, this –”

            “Pull?”

            “Yes!  That’s what it feels like.  When I’m around you I can –”

            “Feel you there, like a steady pulse,” she whispered.

            “Exactly,” I whispered back, completely freaking out inside.  She was practically confirming what I’d been experiencing, what I’d been trying to convince myself wasn’t real.

            “I don’t understand it… how it’s possible,” I finally managed to say, hoping that if it was linked to her “secret” maybe she might break her rule of waiting ‘til the right time and tell me right now.

            “Me neither,” she finally managed to squeak out, practically ruining all hope I had of getting it out of her tonight.  “But we’re clear, right… there’s no question that we have mutual feelings for each other?  Feelings that extend way beyond just a friendship?”

            I smiled at her, so glad that she could understand me, even through all this crazy talk and mystery.

            “I know I told you that I’d take it slow, so in honor of that, let me just say…” I looked down a little embarrassed that I was about to say this.  But honestly, I’d said so much already completely out of character, why not just add one more thing to the list, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

            She blushed a deep red, “I appreciate your honesty… and your restraint.”

            She stood and motioned towards the first hole, which was currently being played by a family of four, “Shall we do this then?  Because I’d really like to kick your ass.”

            I stood, ready to forget the majorly idiotic, uncharacteristic display that I’d just given, and prepared myself to actually have a good time with her.

So... thoughts?  Feelings?  Excited?  Disappointed - let me know!

Oh, and thanks for reading (:

Handbags & Gladrags Part 3

Sorry it's taken me so long to get this next part done... I was chasing after some potential freelance writing jobs, and that took up some time.  Won't share yet, because they might not work out (will know in about 2 months if my writing was up to their standards??) and I don't want to jinx it or get my hopes up!  Okay, so... what you came here for (hope you enjoy):

         She awoke with a start, trying to grab hold of her surroundings and remind herself where she was and why she was there.  As her eyes adjusted to the dark room, lit only by a sliver of light through the curtains coming from a streetlamp outside, it all hit her with a force that would've physically knocked her over if she hadn't been lying down.  Tears sprang to life in her eyes and her vision was immediately cloudy and watery, like looking through stained glass.  She reached up and ran her hands through her hair, resting her shaking palms on either side of her puffy face.  As if those first few hours of bawling herself into exhaustion wasn't enough, she hadn't even been able to find relief after sleeping it off.  Eventually she knew she couldn't continue on like this, but for now, she was allowing herself some time to, well grieve.  She rolled over on her side and curled up into the fetal position, letting her arms drop and wrapping them around her.  She stared at the small crack of light and tried to let it warm her, shine some lucidity into her.  To most people, being disowned by the only family member who you had left might not be that big of a deal, but to her... well she was taking it almost as hard as she had taken her mother's death.

        When her mom had died five years ago, she had thought it was the end of the world, as would most fifteen year old girls.  Her mother had been everything to her.  Unlike most of the other girls she knew, her mom was her best friend, someone who she confided in, leaned on, hardly ever fought with.  The fact that she'd taken her own life, well to Cheryl it was almost the ultimate betrayal.  She hadn't seen any signs, had no idea that her mother was even in a state where she would consider such a drastic measure.  She felt like if she'd only seen or said one thing differently, this stuff would not be happening right now; things would be normal, like they should be.  She didn't leave her room, hell her bed for almost a month.  She took a leave of absence from school and began home-school (only because it was legally required, as she was a minor), though her "teacher" was more like a therapist and simply sat in the corner of the room.  He would read her work to her or try to get her to talk to him.  Mostly he forced her to get out of bed and walk over to the window and get some fresh air, or usher her into the bathroom to wash up and have normal bodily functions.  It was her ultimate rock-bottom, and after three months of cutting herself off from the outside world, her father came in one day and demanded that she go back to school.  He had been so patient and seemingly understanding, but Cheryl suspected that her teacher was planting some sort of seed inside his mind that if things didn't return to normal soon, her fate might become spending every waking moment in a psych ward.  Within a week she was enrolled back at her old school and she was seeing a shrink three times a week.  It took her a while to warm up to the psychiatrist, but she was nice and eventually it became easy to confide in her.  After six months, she cut her appointments down to once a week and after two years, Cheryl had finally accepted things as they were, as best as she knew she ever could, and she stopped going altogether.

       Thinking about those visits made her realize that it had also been around that time that her father had started dating again.  It had taken her almost three years to just come to terms her mother's death, and she still struggled with it from time to time.  But her dad, it had taken him only three years to get over his grief, his love, and his newly acquired singledom.  It made bile rise in her throat, and the metallic, acidic taste bubbling inside her forced her into a sitting position.  She hung her head in her hands, swallowing repetitively to wash down the vomit she hoped wasn't going to come, and allowed her thoughts to immediately shift to him.

       Sure she'd been given a year to adjust to his monogamy, but it would take her a lifetime to understand how someone could move on as quickly as he had.  It was as if the past twenty-five years of living, loving, and being with a single, wonderful woman, the mother of his only child, the woman he had vowed to be with until the end of time, those years were just memories, moments that had no affect on what was now happening, just a page in a book that he'd turned and had no intention of looking back on.  And she had tried to play devil's advocate with all this.  She understood he was lonely and sad and needed companionship.  She could see that he craved the company of another woman that was able to meet every need he had.  Maybe he was angry that his wife had destroyed the life they'd built together and offed herself. He might've even felt some resentment at having to raise a child all by himself.  He was crushed that his one true love was gone, and upset that he'd never get to grow old with her.  She got it, honestly she did.  She also fully grasped that not everyone grieved and remembered in the same ways.  Maybe this was just his way of dealing, shutting all the memories and feelings out.  She'd seen the many ways people dealt with death, she accepted the multitudes of personalities and various stages of mourning.  But the way he acted, not only about her mother's death, but towards her, towards Cheryl herself, it dumbfounded her.  It was as if she were no longer his child, just some person taking up space in his house, in the way of his newly active social night-life and more like an annoying cock-block than a daughter in desperate need of her father.

        After her mother's funeral, she had never once heard her him even utter her mother's name or make reference to her in any way ever again.  Every picture of her was taken down and either boxed up and sent to storage in the basement or crumpled up and thrown away.  When she'd come across a trashcan full of pictures, she quickly saved what she could and hid them in her room.  

        Quickly, her eyes darted over to a medium sized hat-box that was weathered and peeling, poking out of the top of a half-closed box.  She slowly climbed off the creaky bed and walked over to it.  She sat down on the floor and cradled the container on her folded legs.  She pried the lid off and looked down into what was left of her mother.  Photographs, trinkets, dried flowers & a program from her funeral, mementos and family heirlooms, jewelry that she would never, ever think about getting rid of, let alone hocking like that gaudy jewelry her father "showered" her with.  Jewelry like her mother's engagement ring and wedding band that her father had carelessly tossed at her at the hospital the night of her mother's death and said, "Well she won't be needing this anymore.  I certainly don't want it, but I figure you might... so here."  Just like that, a lifetime erased.  He'd thrown her out and tried to forget her as if she never existed.  None of it made any sense to her.  She let the cold metal rings fall back into the box and she put the top back on, physically and mentally shoving the thoughts of long ago off to the side.

        She stood and walked over to the window and pushed the curtain aside slightly.  She realized the light coming into her room wasn't a streetlamp, but was instead the moon.  It was full and glowing down at her as if shedding light onto some big secret that she couldn't know quite yet.  The stars twinkled softly, scattered throughout the deep, dark, midnight blue sky.  She knew she could sit all night thinking about the what-ifs and  trying to decipher the unknown actions and decisions of her parents, but none of it would change what was happening right now.  Dwelling on this stuff wasn't going to alter the situation she found herself in.  She knew that she had to start all over and she knew she had to do it on her own.  Sure she was frightened beyond belief and had absolutely no clue as to what she should do first, but she couldn't be inactive about this.  She'd allow herself the necessary amount of pity and despair; she was sure she'd spend a number of nights crying herself to sleep.  She wasn't in denial, and she knew that things weren't going to work themselves out on their own.  She had to be an effective and functioning part of her own life, and there were so many things that she wanted to accomplish for herself.  Thoughts like "It'll all be okay" or "Everything will work out" were not running through her mind, because she had no idea if they were true.  For all she knew, she might end up crawling back to her dad completely broken and a failure.  Or she might have to call upon the help of one of her "friends" from her family's "circle," and crash in their luxury house or 10,000 square-foot pool house.  She certainly wasn't going into this thinking she was going to fail, but she also wasn't pumping herself up for success.  Anything could happen, she understood that and she was accepting it.

        She let the curtain fall and slumped down in the ratty, old desk chair.  She caught a glimpse of a plastic picture frame which held a small sign that said, "Free Wi-Fi and HBO."  Luckily she hadn't yet gotten around to selling her laptop, so she bent over and shuffled through a few of the boxes near her feet until she came out with a power cord and notebook.  After letting it power-up and load the necessary programs, she stared at the desktop background, a picture of Cheryl with her two roommates from NYU.  It'd been a while since she'd spoken to them, and although she wished dearly that she could pick up the phone and cry her troubles out to them, she foraged ahead and opened Google Chrome, readying herself for a night of job-searching and Craigslist apartment hunting.

Okay that's it for now.  I'm not sure if I'll continue this or stop it here.  It has the potential for further storyline, and I could probably turn this into a novel-length piece, but I'm going to let this rest for now. (: Thanks for reading and I hope you'll come back for more of something new!

Handbags & Gladrags Part 2

          He'd hung up on her as if she were a wrong number or an annoying telemarketer. Her immediate solution was to think the whole thing was a joke or one of those "scared straight" tactics, but just to save face later on, she decided to pay a visit to the financial aid office anyway. She got information about loans, scholarship possibilities, and payment plans, but left still an enrolled student. She never imagined the conversation that was to take place when she got home. Mostly instigated by her witch of a step-mother, her father scolded her on the lack of responsibilities she had, that ultimately came down to the fact that her father had never allowed her any - but of course she didn't say that out loud. He also shouted at her about the way she "walked all over him" and "flaunted his money as if she'd done anything to earn it." To that she craved a chance to defend herself, though she was never given an opportunity to do so, as her father monopolized the entire exchange. She would've gladly brought up her previously voiced desires to make her own money and her father's insistence that she focus strictly on getting a proper education without any distractions.
          After the conversation, which was really a one-sided debate about the cons of being a father to a spoiled, clueless, college-aged child, she was informed that in addition to not paying for college anymore, he wasn't paying for anything else either. She was told "you'll have to get your own place after the wedding and start making your own money." He went on to say that with the help of his new wife (surprise, surprise), his eyes had been opened to the error of his previous ways. He ended the whole discussion with one last tidbit.
          "Oh and even if you do somehow come up with a way to pay for and graduate college (as if the thought of it was impossible and repulsive to him), your trust fund won't be there waiting for you. I've written you out of that, as well as the will. It's high time you learn that your problems cannot always be solved by me, or my money. And if you sit around with hope of money to come in the future, you'll never take this seriously."
          She sat completely stricken, not really caring that the money was being "taken away" but that he cared so little for her to basically erase her from the family tree in the only way he knew how. After a few minutes of contemplation, she struck up the courage to say, "Are you broke or something?" and then quickly regretted it once both he and his wife began an endless tirade of unpleasantness directed towards her.
         Thinking about it all only made the anger and frustration within her surge even more, and the overwhelming urge to walk over and slap sense into her father almost taking hold of her bodily functions. All she did, though, was continue to stare at him from across the room. She no longer saw the gentle, kind man he'd been when her mother was alive. She no longer sensed his love for her, that once swelled out of him and enveloped everyone around him. She no longer felt any connection to him, and feared she never would again.
          "No, Dad," Cheryl finally managed to squeak out, "I won't be needing Maxwell to drive me anywhere."
         "Fine then," he said after a short pause. As he guided his wife toward the hallway, he looked over his shoulder and shot her an almost sympathetic glance before exiting the room.
          All her fight evaporated the instant they were both out of sight, and she slowly slumped onto the bare mattress. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes and at the back of her throat, and immediately bit down on her tongue to distract herself and keep her emotions at bay.
          You can cry later, she thought. Just get done with this and get out of here. You'll have all the time in the world to wallow in your own self-pity.
          She immediately stood back up and began stacking her bags and boxes at the top of the stairs. The butler, who'd been with her family since her parents had married over twenty-five years ago, suddenly appeared.
          "Miss Cheryl," Frederick greeted her with a familiar smile and a warm, deep voice.
          "Frederick you don't have to help," Cheryl said as he bent down to pick up an armload.
          "But of course I do," he began as he turned to go down the steps. "If you aren't a member of this household anymore, that makes you a guest. Either way, I've got to do my job."
          As he hit the bottom of the stairs, he turned toward her and sent a wink back up her way. Cheryl felt herself smile a little at him and was extremely grateful he was there to help keep her calm.
          After a lonely and hardly acknowledged farewell to her ex-home and ex-family (made up of maids, butlers, drivers, and dead - both figuratively and literally - ancestors), Cheryl climbed into the idling cab and told the driver directions to a nearby motel.
          She went in and paid for a month up front, before returning to the cabbie and asking if he'd drive her around the building to her new "home." His generosity was ever-evident as he helped unload her pitiful belongings into the pitiful room that acted as combo bedroom/living room/dining room. She glanced around at her surroundings as the driver made his way to the door. It was as close to a "culture shock" as she'd ever been. The place wasn't nasty or gross, but it certainly wasn't extravagant or upscale like she'd been accustomed to her whole life. There was a small kitchenette off the far wall and an even smaller bathroom to her right, but overall, the place wasn't bad. At least it'd do until she found something more permanent.
          "Well if that's all miss, I'd better get going."
          Cheryl turned to look at the kind older man with wrinkled hands and deep lines in his forehead. She reached down to the small purse slung over her chest and resting on her left thigh and pulled out the cab fare with a little extra for his helpfulness.
          "Thanks for everything," she said as he shut the door behind him.
          The quiet and stillness that closed in on her was instant and it took all her strength to make it to the bed before she collapsed. Slowly she brought her knees to her chest and rested against the wall that doubled as her headboard. She wept all night and eventually exhaustion overcame her. She had no choice but to give into it.







Hope you liked it! Part 3 soon to follow (: Come back for more!!