Step out of the sand

What do you do
when the world feels awry
and all that’s amiss
continues to grow
Where issues that seem
to not exist in your world
Suddenly flood
your existence?
Thoughts come like
an avalanche to disrupt
the quietude of life
So much more
could be so much
worse
yet it is your world
and when is it okay
to sit back
and feel badly
for yourself
without it being
self-pity?
Is hopelessness
the same as
giving up?
Where do we
draw the line
in this giant sandbox
called life
where each grain
contains pleasure
or pain, sometimes disappearing
to the bottom of the pile,
not big enough to hold on to
not bright enough to see shining
only sharp enough to
rip our lives
into too many
pieces to handle.

©2023 CBialczak


Day 5 #100DaysOfThoseDays

Today is World Spay Day https://gloriawriteshere.wordpress.com/ (February 28th)

“Maisy, go down to the market and get me a bunch of bananas. Make sure they are not the green ones. I want to make banana bread to bring to Granny’s tomorrow.”

“Will you make one for us too?”

“You know I always make two! Now, get…I’d like to get started.”

Maisy slipped out the front door and was shocked at the scene in front of her brownstone apartment. There were people lined up as far as she could see to the left and the right. The rows of people were at least five if not six or seven deep. She could get lost just outside her house. How was she going to get through all those people and not spill something down her pants leg? Looking at the front stoop two doors down, Maisy finally had the opportunity to see what all the hype was about. Leaning slightly forward, so as to not fall over the rusting wrought iron handrails, she saw what everyone was looking at.

By now Maisy had forgotten all about the banana bread and was now fixated on…

The group that had congregated at the intersection. There were about 10 people and they were all dressed in Mexican clothing. The funny thing was they were just standing there. I couldn’t hear any music and I certainly didn’t see anyone dancing. I wondered if there was supposed to be some sort of parade or something with all these people lined up and down the street. I decided my best bet would be to go down the step and see if there was anyone who looked friendly enough to chat with.

As I made my way down the steps people near my building turned and looked at me. Their glares felt like I was disturbing something but as I had noticed when I walked out, there was no music, no festivities, or at least none that I could see yet. A man in a jeans coat turned to his side a bit to let me walk by but since he turned and his back was away from me I took that as not an invitation to chat! The peoople lined up didn’t seem to mind stepping out of my way but nobody made eye contact and noone greeted me in any way that seemed friendly. I was about halfway through the rows of people.

I continued making my way when a small, old woman looked up at me as I tried to pass.
“Here, dear, you can stand by me,” she said.
I took this as an opportunity to find out what exactly was going on.

“Good morning,” I said cheerfully. “I didn’t know there was anything special happening today! I only live a few buildings down and I was so surprised to see all these people lined up.”

“Well, I’m surprised you haven’t heard the news. There is a giant truck coming from the Mexican border. No one is certain what is on the truck but people have some ideas. I think it’s going to be bags and bags of Tortilla Chips. I heard they make them from fresh corn in Mexico.”

“Maybe,” I said, trying not to roll my eyes. A truck of tortilla chips? Where on earth did she get that idea? And why was everyone dressed up?

Maisy’s mind was spinning in circles! Mexican fiesta? Mexican food? There wasn’t anything here to hint at what was coming in this supposed truck! Maybe I’d better get down to get those bananas before it gets any busier, she thought.

“I’ll be right back,” Maisy said to the old woman.

“No problem, dear, I will save you a spot for when the truck gets here.” The old woman beamed with excitement and anticipation.

Maisy began moving through the crowd again, excusing herself as she bumped into people who seemed so oblivious to her that they didn’t even step aside to let her by. As she neared the opening she could hear someone talking in just above a whisper, coming from the center of the small group in the intersection. She nudged her way past the last line of bystanders and saw what was at least the beginning of the event. There, in the middle of the street were four men and four women, all dressed in beautiful, bright costumes, and they stood around a chair, almost like a throne that had been placed right in the middle of the street. Sitting in the chair was an old man.

At the base of the chair, surrounding the old man’s feet were at least a dozen small children. They sat mesmerized by the old man. He held a book and was quietly reading to the small children. The words he spoke were Spanish, so she couldn’t understand, but she assumed it was a children’s story by the way the children sat so quietly, listening to the man. Then just as soon as she had seen all the little children the old man put a bookmark on the page he had been reading and closed the book. Maisy could hear groans from the children, they obviously wanted him to continue.

Then, as if out of nowhere a huge tractor-trailer came slowly down the road on the right of the crowd, and the people began to move out of the way of the giant vehicle.

The truck began to slow down, thankfully aware of the small children who were scattered around. No one at the fiesta seemed to know what the truck was for but if the outside was any indication it was for the food vendors. Painted on the box of the truck were so many different foods, all of which could probably be purchased once the food tents were erected. The children began noticing the food pictures and excitedly pulled on their parents hands, pointing out their favorites.

Maisy stood watching the giant truck maneuver its way through and around the crowd. Her stomach began grumbling when she saw that there would be a tent selling all of the most popular nuts. Maisy loved pistachios and unlike the bananas that Granny wanted, Maisy loved that they were green. Licking her lips, Maisy made her way past all the parents and their noisy little charges, trying to get to the market for those bananas! Granny would not be happy if she came home without them.

Now, as Maisy moved farther away from the crowd of people she saw that she was almost to the market that Granny said had the nice, ripe bananas she needed. The shop owner, an old Korean man, was such a sweetheart and Granny said it was so important to give him, and the other little shops, all of our business so the big box stores couldn’t push them out. Maisy loved that this was all happeneing right where she had grown up.

Walking past an alleyway between two of the small buildings Maisy heard a faint noise. She didn’t need a flashlight to see that there was a small glass bowl and the smallest kitten lapping the liquid up out of it. The kitten looked tiny and Maisy wondered to herself if it was a stray or feral cat or if someone just let it out of their house. Granny didn’t allow Maisy to have any pets and she had heard that they cost a lot of money anyhow. There were vet bills and bedding, food and toys, and now it was even a rule or someething that everyone should have their pet spayed or neutered to cut down on all the animals wandering around with no home. Maisy hoped this little one had a home, maybe she would ask the nice man in the shop.

Maisy walked closer to the shop and thought for a moment, wondering what it was she was supposed to be bringing home to Granny! Between the crowds and the children, the old man reading, and now this tiny kitten, Maisy was overwhelmed with all the hustle and bustle!

Day 4 #100DaysOfThoseDays

Today is National Pistachio Day https://gloriawriteshere.wordpress.com/ (February 26th)

“Maisy, go down to the market and get me a bunch of bananas. Make sure they are not the green ones. I want to make banana bread to bring to Granny’s tomorrow.”

“Will you make one for us too?”

“You know I always make two! Now, get…I’d like to get started.”

Maisy slipped out the front door and was shocked at the scene in front of her brownstone apartment. There were people lined up as far as she could see to the left and the right. The rows of people were at least five if not six or seven deep. She could get lost just outside her house. How was she going to get through all those people and not spill something down her pants leg? Looking at the front stoop two doors down, Maisy finally had the opportunity to see what all the hype was about. Leaning slightly forward, so as to not fall over the rusting wrought iron handrails, she saw what everyone was looking at.

By now Maisy had forgotten all about the banana bread and was now fixated on…

The group that had congregated at the intersection. There were about 10 people and they were all dressed in Mexican clothing. The funny thing was they were just standing there. I couldn’t hear any music and I certainly didn’t see anyone dancing. I wondered if there was supposed to be some sort of parade or something with all these people lined up and down the street. I decided my best bet would be to go down the step and see if there was anyone who looked friendly enough to chat with.

As I made my way down the steps people near my building turned and looked at me. Their glares felt like I was disturbing something but as I had noticed when I walked out, there was no music, no festivities, or at least none that I could see yet. A man in a jeans coat turned to his side a bit to let me walk by but since he turned and his back was away from me I took that as not an invitation to chat! The peoople lined up didn’t seem to mind stepping out of my way but nobody made eye contact and noone greeted me in any way that seemed friendly. I was about halfway through the rows of people.

I continued making my way when a small, old woman looked up at me as I tried to pass.
“Here, dear, you can stand by me,” she said.
I took this as an opportunity to find out what exactly was going on.

“Good morning,” I said cheerfully. “I didn’t know there was anything special happening today! I only live a few buildings down and I was so surprised to see all these people lined up.”

“Well, I’m surprised you haven’t heard the news. There is a giant truck coming from the Mexican border. No one is certain what is on the truck but people have some ideas. I think it’s going to be bags and bags of Tortilla Chips. I heard they make them from fresh corn in Mexico.”

“Maybe,” I said, trying not to roll my eyes. A truck of tortilla chips? Where on earth did she get that idea? And why was everyone dressed up?

Maisy’s mind was spinning in circles! Mexican fiesta? Mexican food? There wasn’t anything here to hint at what was coming in this supposed truck! Maybe I’d better get down to get those bananas before it gets any busier, she thought.

“I’ll be right back,” Maisy said to the old woman.

“No problem, dear, I will save you a spot for when the truck gets here.” The old woman beamed with excitement and anticipation.

Maisy began moving through the crowd again, excusing herself as she bumped into people who seemed so oblivious to her that they didn’t even step aside to let her by. As she neared the opening she could hear someone talking in just above a whisper, coming from the center of the small group in the intersection. She nudged her way past the last line of bystanders and saw what was at least the beginning of the event. There, in the middle of the street were four men and four women, all dressed in beautiful, bright costumes, and they stood around a chair, almost like a throne that had been placed right in the middle of the street. Sitting in the chair was an old man.

At the base of the chair, surrounding the old man’s feet were at least a dozen small children. They sat mesmerized by the old man. He held a book and was quietly reading to the small children. The words he spoke were Spanish, so she couldn’t understand, but she assumed it was a children’s story by the way the children sat so quietly, listening to the man. Then just as soon as she had seen all the little children the old man put a bookmark on the page he had been reading and closed the book. Maisy could hear groans from the children, they obviously wanted him to continue.

Then, as if out of nowhere a huge tractor-trailer came slowly down the road on the right of the crowd, and the people began to move out of the way of the giant vehicle.

The truck began to slow down, thankfully aware of the small children who were scattered around. No one at the fiesta seemed to know what the truck was for but if the outside was any indication it was for the food vendors. Painted on the box of the truck were so many different foods, all of which could probably be purchased once the food tents were erected. The children began noticing the food pictures and excitedly pulled on their parents hands, pointing out their favorites.

Maisy stood watching the giant truck maneuver its way through and around the crowd. Her stomach began grumbling when she saw that there would be a tent selling all of the most popular nuts. Maisy loved pistachios and unlike the bananas that Granny wanted, Maisy loved that they were green. Licking her lips, Maisy made her way past all the parents and their noisy little charges, trying to get to the market for those bananas! Granny would not be happy if she came home without them.

Day 3 #100DaysOfThoseDays

Today is World Bookmark Day https://gloriawriteshere.wordpress.com/ (February 25th)

“Maisy, go down to the market and get me a bunch of bananas. Make sure they are not the green ones. I want to make banana bread to bring to Granny’s tomorrow.”

“Will you make one for us too?”

“You know I always make two! Now, get…I’d like to get started.”

Maisy slipped out the front door and was shocked at the scene in front of her brownstone apartment. There were people lined up as far as she could see to the left and the right. The rows of people were at least five if not six or seven deep. She could get lost just outside her house. How was she going to get through all those people and not spill something down her pants leg? Looking at the front stoop two doors down, Maisy finally had the opportunity to see what all the hype was about. Leaning slightly forward, so as to not fall over the rusting wrought iron handrails, she saw what everyone was looking at.

By now Maisy had forgotten all about the banana bread and was now fixated on…

The group that had congregated at the intersection. There were about 10 people and they were all dressed in Mexican clothing. The funny thing was they were just standing there. I couldn’t hear any music and I certainly didn’t see anyone dancing. I wondered if there was supposed to be some sort of parade or something with all these people lined up and down the street. I decided my best bet would be to go down the step and see if there was anyone who looked friendly enough to chat with.

As I made my way down the steps people near my building turned and looked at me. Their glares felt like I was disturbing something but as I had noticed when I walked out, there was no music, no festivities, or at least none that I could see yet. A man in a jeans coat turned to his side a bit to let me walk by but since he turned and his back was away from me I took that as not an invitation to chat! The peoople lined up didn’t seem to mind stepping out of my way but nobody made eye contact and noone greeted me in any way that seemed friendly. I was about halfway through the rows of people.

I continued making my way when a small, old woman looked up at me as I tried to pass.
“Here, dear, you can stand by me,” she said.
I took this as an opportunity to find out what exactly was going on.

“Good morning,” I said cheerfully. “I didn’t know there was anything special happening today! I only live a few buildings down and I was so surprised to see all these people lined up.”

“Well, I’m surprised you haven’t heard the news. There is a giant truck coming from the Mexican border. No one is certain what is on the truck but people have some ideas. I think it’s going to be bags and bags of Tortilla Chips. I heard they make them from fresh corn in Mexico.”

“Maybe,” I said, trying not to roll my eyes. A truck of tortilla chips? Where on earth did she get that idea? And why was everyone dressed up?

Maisy’s mind was spinning in circles! Mexican fiesta? Mexican food? There wasn’t anything here to hint at what was coming in this supposed truck! Maybe I’d better get down to get those bananas before it gets any busier, she thought.

“I’ll be right back,” Maisy said to the old woman.

“No problem, dear, I will save you a spot for when the truck gets here.” The old woman beamed with excitement and anticipation.

Maisy began moving through the crowd again, excusing herself as she bumped into people who seemed so oblivious to her that they didn’t even step aside to let her by. As she neared the opening she could hear someone talking in just above a whisper, coming from the center of the small group in the intersection. She nudged her way past the last line of bystanders and saw what was at least the beginning of the event. There, in the middle of the street were four men and four women, all dressed in beautiful, bright costumes, and they stood around a chair, almost like a throne that had been placed right in the middle of the street. Sitting in the chair was an old man.

At the base of the chair, surrounding the old man’s feet were at least a dozen small children. They sat mesmerized by the old man. He held a book and was quietly reading to the small children. The words he spoke were Spanish, so she couldn’t understand, but she assumed it was a children’s story by the way the children sat so quietly, listening to the man. Then just as soon as she had seen all the little children the old man put a bookmark on the page he had been reading and closed the book. Maisy could hear groans from the children, they obviously wanted him to continue.

Then, as if out of nowhere a huge tractor-trailer came slowly down the road on the right of the crowd, and the people began to move out of the way of the giant vehicle.

Super Excited!

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https://blog.reedsy.com/short-story/466geh/

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New Book: And I was like November (Womens Fiction/ Black Humor/ Short Stories)

AndIwaslikeNov copy

Welcome to the book tour for And I Was Like November, a “beautifully written bummer” by Rachael Biggs. Read on for more info!

And-I-Was-Like-November-RCB-Front-EBOOK-COVER

And I Was Like November

Expected Publication Date: January 31, 2023

Genre: Womens Fiction/ Black Humor/ Short Stories

20 October 2022… In a world where hyper-positivity and woke culture abounds, Rachael Biggs’ And I Was Like November offers a glimpse of the other side, while navigating themes of isolation and longing.

These are stories of what happens to the women that didn’t get their happy ending—the ones who don’t believe the cliches about family being everything and who know that live-laugh-love isn’t the cure all. Taboo topics that embrace a gritty reality include transactional sex, romantic obsession, maternal disdain and teenaged drug dealing are linked by the need to survive in the midst of questionable sanity and deep loneliness. 

“This is what happens when things don’t work out and the consequences and feelings we have in private as a result. They’re stories about women whose lives aren’t glossy, filtered, and Instagram ready, and the contrast of their brushed-under-the-rug realities is maybe more interesting and relatable. In a world where we’re bombarded with shiny fallacies, this is the beautiful side of ugly,” said Rachael.

Available on Amazon starting January 31st!

About the Author

Rachael Biggs is an author, screenwriter, copywriter and journalist. She studied creative writing at UBC, UCLA, and with masters of the craft Syd Field and Robert McKee. In 2016 she earned a screenwriting diploma from Vancouver Film School with a focus on television. 

Her memoir Yearning for Nothings and Nobodies debuted to critical acclaim and was adapted for the screen as Behind the Eight Ball.

She is a frequent contributor to print and on-line publications and her short fiction appears regularly in literary magazines including Door is a Jar, Angel City Review and Charge Magazine. 

She divides her time between Vancouver and Los Angeles. 

Rachael Biggs

Twitter: @biggsybiggs @DeborahBrosseau @RRBookTours #RRBookTours

IG: @rrbooktours #rrbooktours #andiwaslikenovember #shortstories #womensfiction

Book Tour Organized By:

R&R Button

R&R Book Tours

PROMPT #423 – HOW TO __________

So this week we look to you to provide poetic information on how to do something. https://poeticbloomings2.wordpress.com/2023/01/29/prompt-423-how-to-__________/

Take a big bowl and a very large spoon
don’t think about dinner, its never too soon
Open the lid and see how much’s left
If there’s not much you just might think theft
‘Cause nothing comes close at times just like this
Ice cream needs eating, not a day should you miss.
Scoop out a lot and fill up your bowl
No matter the flavor, it touches the soul.

©2023 CBialczak

MM Music Challenge

Join in here: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2020/11/13/rolling-in-the-deep-challenge-169/

The challenge today is to focus on this song and use it for a short story, a piece of flash fiction, or a poem that you can share with the WordPress writing community. 

See how I leave with every piece of you
Don’t underestimate the things that I will do

Adele said that the phrase “Rolling In The Deep” is a kind of slang in the UK called ‘roll deep’, which means to have someone, always have someone that has your back, and you’re never on your own, if you’re ever in trouble you’ve always got someone who’s going to come and help you fight it or whatever like that.

See how I leave when I say goodbye
with every piece of you I quietly cry
Don’t underestimate how much I feel
or the things I will do until you appeal
I do want you back, more than I should
But things have been done and I should feel good.

©2023 CBialczak

The Morning Dawdler

Join Rory here: https://earthlycomforts.uk/2023/01/29/a-wild-aloha-to-you-8/

Should we fear the arrival of more progressive AI [Artificial Intelligence] or embrace it? I think a little of both. I think we need to be skeptical of how “smart” it really is and how we let AI control our lives. What is comes down to is the fact that AI is still artificial. Just like with food, nothing beats the real thing.

How much time do you spend sitting each day? way too much. After walking the dog I get a few chores done then sit and blog. I then do some other things and then sit in my workshop working. I do have something that I am going to try and now that I am putting it into writing I will feel more compelled to do it…I have one of those vibration machines. My old doctor told me that 10 minutes on that is like 45 minutes of muscle work in your legs. I don’t know how accurate that is but I was thinking about standing on it while I do my blogging. It would almost be like the people who have the stand up desks at their jobs. Okay, there, now its out there, now I sort of have to try in case anyone asks…

What is your proudest accomplishment?
[Having Children not included] I think one of my proudest accomplishments is learning how to teach kids who were unavailable for learning prior to coming to my classroom. I don’t think I got to all of the kids but there are a few that I feel like I really had an impact on. I am still in contact with three of my old students. One, a young man, came to me with the reputation that he was a class clown, rude, wouldn’t do work, etc. Well, I met him once and didn’t think anyone had it right. I think he behaved like that because he was smart enough to know that he should know more but didn’t know how to learn enough to “catch up”. Well, he graduated from high school and I believe I helped him to see that he did know how to learn and he was actually pretty smart at the things he once thought he could never do. Another student messaged me a few months ago to ask about plot diagrams in Reading for a college course she was taking. Finally, another female came to me and she was a piece of work. I didn’t know if I could work with her. She was sassy and rude. She was outright disrespectful. But she was just a kid and I recognized that the behavior was there for a reason. Well, come to find out she thought she was too “stupid” to learn. I showed her that she certainly was smart enough to learn and that she could do well at the things she tried. Yes, it might take a little more effort than others her age, but she could do it. She also graduated and took some college classes. Her mom is a hair stylist and when I first met her she said that she would go to school for make-up and hair because that was all she would ever be able to do. We talked about what she really liked and it was photography. I told her that maybe someday she could be a photo-journalist. She is still young but she is moving forward!

Are/Were you the youngest, middle, oldest or only child? I was the youngest until I was 13, then my mother had my brother. At that moment I became I don’t know what…Two years later my mother was diagnosed with cancer and I became a teenage mother (well, that is how it felt). Now I am an only child. None of my siblings have any desire to talk to me and I have already tried to fight that. After being hurt very deeply by three out of four of them I do consider myself to be an only child because no one related to me could be as cruel as these people who say they are my siblings.

Little Creature Surprise: Compilation 01/29/2023

The shriek slowly faded as I walked away
Ruining my exercise that precipitates my day
The drumming continued and the peacefulness topped
Like vines along barns grown too thick to be cropped
I clung to my sweater spread right ‘cross my back
I was flummoxed to see the cement had a crack
Was it water in there hunting for a space to hide?
Like a natural trowel I impulsively tried
To look in the crack, a real tight place to see
If this was the place the cacophony might be
I employed all my senses, visions coming right back
Like the floods and the blooms of springtime’s attack
When all of a sudden I saw in that space
All the creatures were having a chummy embrace
There was music and balloons like tiny small dots
There were young little creatures banging on pots
They were celebrating something, I’d never know
But back to my exercising I had to go.

©2023 CBialczak

barns thick clung topped blooms walked spread drumming faded hunt peace floods https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2023/01/29/wordle-590/
shriek https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2023/01/29/shriek/
impulsive https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2023/01/29/your-daily-word-prompt-impulsive-ydwordprompt-january-29-2023/
employ https://thedailyspur.wordpress.com/2023/01/29/employ-2/
trowel, cement, water https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2023/01/29/three-things-challenge-m223/
flummoxed https://fivedotoh.com/2023/01/29/fowc-with-fandango-flummoxed/
precipitate https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2023/01/29/rdp-sunday-precipitate/
exercise https://lindaghill.com/2023/01/29/jusjojan-the-29th-23-the-treadmill/