Free Write Friday-Kellie Elmore: Coyotes Are Not Dogs

Coyote scouting around

Coyote scouting around (Photo credit: jibber11)

It’s high noon. Sun blazing. You awake in a field and birds are pecking your skin… GO!

I know that human people were making noise and complaining about us, we know, all of us. But hey, that’s what we do to survive don’t  they understand that? If they left their “fur babies” (what an obnoxious title) outside alone to play, than it’s anybody’s game. Can you believe there were towns that were thinking about hazing us? Actual plans to get rid of our pact. On purpose,  We are a species of animal, just like everyone else. People have dogs and treat them well, why don’t they respect us, the coyotes, the champions of the world? Snatching their little puffy dogs is just in our nature it’s not something we plan to do, it is instinctive. Can’t you human people consider that? It’s our food just like the food you crave.

We know that we have the been in the news, in the papers, that town meetings overflowing with people wanting to destroy us, make us extinct, that’s a little harsh don’t you think? We are just following our nature, is following your nature to kill and destroy us? That’s what it sounds like to us. I’m not going to lie, we do get some enjoyment of seeing the terror in your eyes at first sight but that is like a game for us, we really mean to do no harm. Just go calmly back inside. I know there was some person who said that you should come at us yelling and screaming, making noise and clapping pots and pans together but do you really want to annoy us? It’s your choice. I can’t promise that if you do those things we will back off immediately. Sometimes yes, sometimes,no. Here’s the thing, we are not dogs, we are not reliable, we are not dependable and we don’t like you or love you. We care for only ourselves, that’s right and we would never deny it. That is who we are. Do you get it now? We will never be your pets, your brothers and sisters, we are your enemies and we will eat your little doggies or your diapered babies as fast as we can grab them in our steely mouths and fly away with no remorse whatsoever. That is the nature of our life.

So, I perfectly understand that the crows are now pecking at my skin, it’s not a bad feeling, just a bunch of pinches and I know I will die. I don’t have a problem with that at all. See, coyotes don’t expect to live forever, problem free. We know we are here on earth for a short time but it is a time that we spend in adventure, a fast life, a one only based on our needs and wants. Am I happy a bigger lion caught meand brought down? No, I can’t say I am but it was inevitable and I understandable. It is what we do. The crows pecking at my skin, well, they are just doing their job, to survive, to eat their meals as fast as they can.

I’m dying now, I can’t move anymore.

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Coyotes running

Coyotes running (Photo credit: Nature Pictures by ForestWander)

Photos are property of the owners.

Free Write Friday, Kellie Elmore, Photo Prompt

the stars around us

long ago i sat under the stars now seems like ive been sittin here under this tree for all my life. all my life cal313030and nothin’s changed.  i sit here in the morning, at night, don’t matter. someone asked me if i was happy, what the hell she mean by happy. i don’t know what happy means no more, can’t feel it, can’t remember it,cant taste  it. but not sure i remember real sad neither. i sit in my chair under my tree, yes in deed that is my tree just watching and listening to the Lord to see if the Lord wants me to come Home or not or if i should just stay on here. im not surprised by nothing, no more.

why should I be? seen too much destruction in my home, too much sadness and pain, you know nothing about me so dont judge me, little boy. what do you think you know, something better? well you dont. i had it all too once, yup, me and my friends who used to live down the street, we all had us some good jobs and on friday nights we would take us out with our gals and we would have us a fine night, eatin dinner out, dancin under the stars and smokey playing the guitar, me on the haermonica. everyone else laughing and drummin, the beer and wine flowed an we didnt care that we was drinkin from paper cups, why that was like china crystal for us, we didnt know better and we didnt care neitther. nothing was more important to us than doing an honest days work, being with family, eating all together with friends and looking at the stars around us. why that was the most beautiful picture of them all.

you dont need a lot of money for beauty, thats what i’m trying to tell u  but a little money, yeah, that does help. I got none now, none, not for lack of trying, but sooner or later you just bury those dreams and give up cuz no one care about you anymore and you feel the same way. i dont care about me no more, i eat whats other peoples leftovers are, i crawl around at night, i cant walk quick no more, but  i can get around with the cane i made myself so i get scraps here an there, i share them sometimes. i dont care about eating, no more tho i used to, have my pots and pans still, little stove. i don’t use them much.

i just sit, waiting, just in case someone visits, i even got an extra chair beside me but i know, it stays empty, and thats just alright, juz fine by me. i had that love once, i dont get   entitled to a second round mized up my life with the wrong people  and too much drinkin. so now i sit alone, i know no one is coming round to see me, i know that chair besides mine is gonna be empty till the day they carry me out from here, stone cold dead.

Free Write Friday, Kellie Elmore: sweet – lavender – flute – heir – willow – bask (use one word or all)

English: House in Pamington House at Pamington...

English: House in Pamington House at Pamington viewed through a weeping willow tree. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Sweet Angelina,

I feel like I have lost a part of myself since I had to leave to get back to the military. I miss holding you in my arms and stroking your hair that smells like lavender. Now, every time I smell lavender I think of you, of your beautiful porcelain skin, of your delicate fingers wearing the engagement ring I bought for you, and most of all, your stunning beauty.

If not for the war, you know we would be married now but of course it will have to wait until I return. Promise me you will wait for me, my love, because I cannot imagine my life without you. I know we talked about different venues for a wedding but all I want is for you to be happy. Whatever will make you happy will make me happy, so choose the things you want. You know me, darling, I would be happy if it was a garden party with you and our families by our sides, a flute playing classical music in the background as the sun basked in our glory, your long red hair, hanging loosely down your back, soft and silky.

After we say our vows and before the celebration begins I want to take your hand, for just a moment, to our special place where we first fell in love. We looked into each others eyes and we knew then something special was happening. Do you know what place I’m talking about?  Near the stream in the back of the house, underneath the weeping willow tree. That tree that hid us from the rest of the world, our own perfect secret, a love we didn’t have to share just yet. It was the beginning, the sweet unknown, that tingling sensation, of something yet to come, and the promise of our future.

I miss you, my love and hope to see you very soon.

Yours,

Stephan

Free Write Friday, Kellie Elmore

House cat with a ball of yarn.

House cat with a ball of yarn. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The air was thick with humidity, Emily hadn’t seen the sun in five straight days. To say she was going “stir-crazy” was the understatement of a lifetime. It was hard to breathe, harder to move. She was home with her teenage children, her husband worked long hours and while he used to call her nine times a day just to say hello, he had stopped calling altogether. She had signed up for a clay class but she just heard that it had been cancelled. Her volunteer work at the hospital had ended three weeks ago. She had nothing to do, nowhere to go and she was starting to feel bored, restless and just a little off-center.

She made dinner for the family, most of which was eaten in silence. The cat, Ivy, purred on the sofa, her head resting on a ball of blue yarn. Emily let out an audible sigh of envy, at least the cat was happy, she thought, at least someone was, she certainly wasn’t. What was it about this summer that seemed so different? She felt so closed in, none of her friends were around and there was nothing to do, no one to talk to. She wasn’t brave enough to fly someplace alone and even if she was, they couldn’t afford it but she knew it couldn’t go on like this, she needed to do something, soon.

She thought about it that week and slowly she came up with an idea, an idea that made her smile inwardly. She came up with a plan that involved everything she loved, didn’t cost a lot of money, gave her independence and a mini-vacation. She didn’t ask anyone’s permission, why should she? She had waited on her husband and family for years but one night she told them, not asked them, that she was going to be away for a few days, with her old college roommate. They barely even acknowledged what she said, they mumbled “ok” and  her son asked ” Who is going to cook us dinner?” was the only question asked by her son. You’ll figure it out, ” she said calmly, “Dad can give you extra money for pizza.”

The next morning, after everyone had left she packed her car, turned on the music, her music, on loud and headed to meet her old friend in Boston. She knew they were heading to the beach, which beach she wasn’t sure. She would stop at a motel or an Inn, whatever appealed to her on the way. There were no rules, no rules except for her to have fun and to do whatever made her happy. She had packed a few books, she had her radio and she felt peaceful. She was going to pick up Jane and then Jane would take over the driving. Leaving had made her happy, that was something to think about on its own.

They hugged tightly when they saw each other, it had been years since their last reunion. Jane took over the driving while Emily, now wearing her new sunglasses, put her arm and hand out the window in joyous rhythm to the music she loved. She tilted her head back, grinning, laughed happily and sang, loudly off-key.

Free Write: Kellie Elmore (Resolve)

Description unavailable

Description unavailable (Photo credit: wakingphotolife:)

I stared into her eyes of lead. I would continue to stare until she blinked. She had been abusing me verbally for years. I would take it no longer;  she was the one who was mentally unstable not I. As a child and teen I spent hours sobbing from her nastiness, the cruel streak that ran up and down her ruthless spine. I refused to call my mother “mom” I could barely call her by her first name, Joyce. It was a little better when our dad was alive but not by much; she hid it from him but we knew better.

People who met her thought she was charming and well-mannered. Peals of laughter wafted from her enraptured audience, that sat around her at the tennis club. Her friends would hang on to every word.  I’m sure to the public she appeared charismatic. She introduced me to her friends without name, as if I were her maid. Maybe my extra twenty pounds didn’t fit her expectations of perfection or beauty. I had always felt ugly and ashamed of my body. As a child, I hated to shop with her, although she forced me to, never once thinking about why I didn’t want to go, not bothering to question me about it. Instead, she left magazines open on the oak, wood table in the kitchen with the New York Times open to the black and white pages of “Sleep-Away Camp For Overweight Girls.” Subtlety was not her strong suit.

She fully admitted that if she was in her twenties now she would have lived a different life. She would NOT have had children, she would have had a successful career,  she would have lived in NYC and would have been an executive. She would have gone to the theater, eaten dinner out in small Parisian cafes, lit by candlelight, attend the ballet. She wasn’t the “motherly type” we all knew that. We think Dad even knew that but he humored her. Her nurturing skills did not exist, there was no evidence of her common sense skills either. She blurted out words and sentences, never thinking about how the other person would feel, never knowing the hurt feelings she could cause because she only thought about herself. “She didn’t mean to do it” she would say as her defense; she would vow that she would resolve that problem by trying to change. We rolled our eyes; this was her standard line; we all knew that it would never last. She might try for a day or two but then she would turn it around and become nasty, trying to make us feel bad for her lonely life. My little brother, Brian, took it the hardest. All I wanted to do was protect him, to take him out of this house and run away.  I just needed a few more years to earn money and then I would take him with me and we would disappear. She could have the life she wanted then, we didn’t care. We just wanted to get away from her poison. We still hadn’t gotten over the loss of our father due to a massive heart attack many years ago.

Joyce was a troubled woman, an even more troubled child. Her own parents had been killed in an automobile accident when she was seven. She had been adopted quickly by a family who adored her yet she never got over her own anger. She never trusted another soul, because they could leave her too. As a mother she knew her children would leave her when they grew up, so why get attached to them? This was not the life she wanted anyway.