Truth and Fiction


The Fiction:

The sun warmed my skin as I stalked the edge of the lake, looking for a likely spot for my prey to be hiding.  The various islands from which the lake got its name were good places to start, so I cast my line out close to one of them and slowly reeled in the fly, hoping it would catch the eye of a hungry fish.

The lake was calm, only the movement of my line betraying the stillness of the surface.  It seemed almost wrong to disturb such serenity even in the pursuit of my dinner.  I couldn’t let such sentiments get to me, though, for there are only so many fishable hours at high elevation and my stomach would severely object later were I to abandon my hunt for a meal.

Back and forth I flicked my rod, drying the barbed fly, in a rhythm that had become so much a part of me I could no longer remember when I had first learned it.  Then I let the line free and watched carefully as it sailed over the smooth water, only to reel in and repeat over, and over, and over.  There were fish in the lake, I knew it.  Birds of prey had plucked them out while camp was being set up.  They would not rise for me though.


The Truth:

I’d had a fever the night before, at least that is what I attributed the chills and body aches to, and hadn’t slept well at all.  Morning came too quickly and not quickly enough at the same time.  I helped break camp, shrugged off the questions of how I was doing and forged ahead… barely holding it together.  It was a short day, thankfully, only a couple miles and yet I still took a two hour nap after helping set up camp.  Then I rose to greet the late afternoon determined to enjoy the experience as much as I could.  I rigged my pole and traipsed around the lake, trying to coax some fish out from their hiding spots.  It was a beautiful day and a gorgeous lake, and I was far sicker than I’ve ever been in the backcountry before.


And now that they are both written, I can see that they are both truths, except for one line of fiction buried in the first story.  But, it’s a start.  Here I am, writing again…



You growled and hissed, and still you were loved.

You lashed and gnashed, and still you were loved.

You were a scaredy-cat at first, and then a meany-cat at the end, and still you were loved.

You had your humans, though.  The ones you let get close.  The ones you were sweet on.  You picked them long ago and were fiercely loyal to them and them alone.  They got to see you for who you were.

The years passed, and still you were loved.

You were tired and sick, and still you were loved.

It was love for you that made the final decision heartbreaking.  You will be missed.  It was love for you that made the final decision essential.  No more pain.


On my drive this morning, I caught a hint of movement through the windshield.  It was a flash of light at the edge my vision, all color and no shape.  I pondered the possibilities of what I had seen.  A raindrop perhaps?  A coyote slinking off into the darkness?  Gorlak come to fetch me?  I thought we had an understanding, but nothing is certain when it comes to hell-demons.  Each idea was more sinister than the last, but my journey continued and nothing further came of the disturbance.

It made me miss the days when I drove into the rising sun and how the beauty of those moments would inspire the words to shine within me.  I couldn’t wait to get to a computer and transfer images, sentences, characters, lines to the screen.  That urgency is gone now.  Sure, I could write about the darkness surrounding my truck, the claustrophobia setting in, the madness that follows, but who wants to read about the demons I battle?  Real or imagined.  There is no inspiring light.  There is only the struggle to keep my eyes open and the truck between the lines.

The kingdom is battling a cold this week, runny noses, sore throats, decreased energy, and confused thoughts.  After safely making it to work I stared at the computer screen trying to force out the words that normally flow from mind to screen with little prompting, but for a long time there was nothing, and then there were only snippets, fragments of a sentences, partial ideas.  Muddled, all of it.  Yet, the need to write never went away.  It is an addiction, a craving, a desire that cannot be ignored.

So, I filled the space with letters, grouped into words, then sentences and paragraphs, so that it might appease the writer.  Of course, he can never be appeased, not truly, not fully.  The writer is only ever temporarily satisfied.

And so I journey on.  Searching.  Seeking.  Questing for the next idea he can twist for his purpose and abate his need.


Don’t mind me, I’m currently enjoying the perks of Sudafedrine coupled with Advil.  I don’t bother with sending grammatical corrections for this one.  I think I was jumping between tenses.  I tried to fix that and am fairly certain I failed.  So, yeah, I know…

Anyway, I have no idea if this post makes any sense.  It is in response to this week’s Inspiration Monday writing challenge, and while I did use one of the prompt words, I’m not entirely sure it actual fits with the normal theme for responses.  Also, I’m not sure I can complete a sentence right now without a few extra commas and a bunch of fragments that probably don’t need to be there for the purpose of the sentence….  Um, yeah, here’s the prompt:

Inspiration Monday logo

The Rules

There are none. Read the prompts, get inspired, write something. No word count minimum or maximum. You don’t have to include the exact prompt in your piece, and you can interpret the prompt(s) any way you like.


No really; I need rules!

Okay; write 200-500 words on the prompt of your choice. You may either use the prompt as the title of your piece or work it into the body of your piece. You must complete it before 6 pm CST on the Monday following this post.

The Prompts:






 Any of that jump out at you?  I guess I’m in reading mode today since writing mode is currently missing.  So, write a response, link it up, and publish it to keep me from posting something else today.

Attack of the The Cold

You may or may not have noticed that I haven’t been commenting/liking your posts as much as normal in the last couple days.  That is due primarily to The Cold that has wrecked havoc in the Kingdom.  None were spared.

Black And White Sick Jester Joke Book Mascot Royalty Free Vector Clipart by Cory Thoman

I attempted to have one of the cats pick up my slack in the hopes that none of you would notice my absence, but, unfortunately, they were unable to fill my shoes, er, um hat.

Cleo Jester Crinkle Cat Bed


Hopefully I will be back to my jestering self shortly and I’ll do my best to catch up on the wonderful posts I’ve missed.  In the meantime, if you happen to see The Cold wandering around go ahead and squish it for me.


Trust me, a concrete filled nose is something you want to avoid.  Have no qualms about squishing this nasty little bug if you get the chance.  Go all Gallagher on it.



here there be monsters

This may just be me, but have any of you noticed that when you take a dose of NyQuil or any of the generic brand copies of the wonderful nighttime cold remedy liquid deliciousness that your dreams that evening are, shall we say, odd?

I’m all for its magical and miraculous ability to send me sprawling into the nether reaches of sleep.  I truly appreciate that aspect of the medication.  But, I think perhaps they should put a new warning label on it the bottle to let consumers know about the possibly dream side effects.

There are already so many warning and drug facts on the bottle, what’s one more?

In my own experience my dreams tend to veer towards the nightmare range so here is my proposal for the new warning to be included:

It wouldn't discourage me from purcashing.
It wouldn’t discourage me from purchasing.

Oh, and if you were wondering, it is gluten free.  That’s good to know.

You can't be too careful about these things.
You can’t be too careful about these things.