Wednesday, December 7, 2022

She’s Back


I haven’t posted anything here in a while. I feel like time has gained a new facet, but we’re not quite aware of how to implement it, yet. 

Some days feel like years, and the last year went by in a day. Someone once told me having a baby felt like that. They were right. Maybe time is our baby, now. We shouldn’t abuse it, but nurture it and learn from it.

Whatever. It sounds smart.

After feeling a bit paralyzed I recently made some writing strides. I began a series on AO3, and joined Kindle Vella. I’m afraid you’ll be seeing me all around in days to come. 

Here’s to hoping this momentum continues.

Sunday, April 25, 2021

Grampy and I Take on Primetime

     


        This is the headshot Grampy and I were sure would make me a primetime star in 1986. We’d been watching Punky Brewster for a long time, and Grampy was convinced I had more talent in my pinky finger than Soleil Moon Frye had in all her freckles, combined. Also, he called me “Punky” (AKA “Punkinhead”) long before the show ever aired. And he thought I pulled off pigtails better.

Somehow the WWII veteran, who had no entertainment business training, managed to schmooze like an industry professional. Major Paul A. Weakland Sr. called talent agencies all over San Francisco, booking three auditions for the girl you see in the picture. He did this using the yellow pages and a pink telephone, with not one -- but two cords (wall and receiver).


I recall sitting in front of bright lights at one firm, emoting my heart out while reciting lines from a TV commercial. We didn’t get a call back. Honestly, I barely remember anything else about that day. What I remember with 100% clarity is the drive to the city, hoofing it around San Francisco, trying to find our appointments, and stopping at Carl’s Jr. for dinner on the way home. 


In no way was that day a failure for me and the Gramps. In fact it happens to be one of our favorite success stories  of all time.

Tuesday, April 6, 2021

SAVING GRACE




 SAVING GRACE

This is a story that is being actively written (new post every day) using a daily VSS (Very Short Story) prompt. I’m hoping to compile it into a short story (or perhaps a fleshed-out novel) when the story tells me it’s time to wrap it up. You may notice some grammatical errors and strange use of words/space, due to the constrictions/rules put on posts. I’ve corrected some I just couldn’t stand, but most of each installment is exactly how it originally appeared. 



Peer

I'm a hight school peer counselor. An oxymoron when you're a nerd & no one speaks to yuo on a normal basis, let alone in crisis. And yet, here we are. He's got piercings & tattoos & does not look 16.



Accoutered

I don’t know why but I believed him. “What do I do?”

“No one’ll listen to me ‘cause-” He gestured at his torn jeans & unlaced Docs.

He was accoutered like the frontman of a punk band. My straight bangs and big round glasses oozed accountability in comparison.

Greenhorn

“We gotta move,”he said. I’d been ready for this all my life.I might’ve looked a greenhorn, but I’ve read a looot of John le CarrĂ©.

Okay, so I was a greenhorn. 

“My vision was the lab room. There’s a class in there now. You distract Mr. Lee & I’ll poke around.” 


Kerf

I burst inside. “Mr.Lee!” 

He & his class paused. 

A hissed called, “Wrong room!” 

I backed out, pulled down the hall. 

I never noticed science & woodshop had the same layout. 

“Just Kerf” was painted on the door. 

“There’s a gas leak & it’s about to get toasty.” 


Rapier

“You distract, I find the leak.”

I nodded, sweeping into the room with a flourish. 

My voice cut through the room like a rapier -- albeit an awkward one. 

“Can I find a screw here?” 

The teacher choked on a sip of coffee, mug shaking with laughter.

 I wanted to die. 


Hawkeye

The class erupted over my accidental joke. Behind them my partner surveyed the room, sliding into a utility closet. Mr. Boyd handed me a handful of screws. 

“Thanks,” I stammered. 

I got a thumbs-up and we met in the hall. 

“Just call me Hawkeye,” he grinned. 



Jazz

“What’s your real name?” 

“Puck.” 

“You know Shakespeare?” 

“You ask adult men for a screw & all that jazz?” 

He was right: I’d judged him right away. 

He cocked an eyebrow, saying, “Ready for another adventure?” 

He should’ve told me his visions included demons. 

 

Quavered

My breath quavered. Straight A’s, perfect attendance & the trust of every teacher on campus. Also, I ditched APUSH to run around with a guy I just met who had tattoos & psychic visions. 

I wondered if this would count as extracurricular on college applications. 

 

Xanthippe

“Where are we going?” I tried to sound like I was disapproving of this adventure. In truth I was loving every minute. If only Key Club could see me now. 

“We are going to find a lady who’ll cause a bunch of sh*t if we don’t.” 

“Who is she?”

 “The xanthippe.”

 

Idyllic

I stood in the middle of a hotel room holding a hunk of hair. A braid,to be exact.I’d grabbed on just as she disappeared. 

“You were born for this!” Puck whistled.

 I was born for Golden Girls reruns & idyllic sunsets, not ripping hair from scalps of witches. 

 

Fog

“What are the visions like?” 

“They’re in a fog, like old movie film that’s been left out too long.” 

He looked so young talking about this.Not at all the intimidating man-boy I’d 1st met. Now I knew he was aptly named Puck: For 1 thing,he was full of mischief. 

 

Fabulist

“Only my uncle knows. He’s untouched, but he says Grandma had it.” 

Puck said his parents died when he was small. 

“I used to try to tell people, but they always thought it was bullsh*t.”

“You do sound like a fabulist.”

“That,” he grinned,” is why I need you.”

 

Porcine

I felt safe with Puck. I didn’t feel like I had to be on guard, like I did with other boys. He was missing that little glimpse of porcine I got from some of them.

“All right then,what’s next?” 

“I’m seeing a church with a purple cross...” 

I knew that church. 

 

Obeisant

Land’s End Church. Did I mention Puck has a motorcycle? Just add riding on the back to my list of recent unlike-me activities. 

“You gotta help find that cross,” he said. 

I wanted to help without seeming obeisant.

“I’ll do anything you want.” came out, instead.

 

Prepared

 “That’s IT?!” I guess the cross seemed bigger in his vision. He looked around the room where I’d gone to Sunday School. “Okay, Puck what am I looking for?” Nothing could have prepared me for seeing Pastor Al floating into the room, evil smile on his face.

 

Paint

“Pastor Al, what happened to you?” 

He turned his head and Puck pushed me away before fire erupted from Al’s mouth, melting the paint on the wall where I’d just been leaning.

“Holy sh*t!” I squealed, clapping a hand over my mouth. 

“That’s not Pastor Al,” said Puck. 

 

 

Hunt

“Who is it then?” “It’s the thing I hunt!” Puck pulled a vial from his pocket & opened it in one motion. Fluid sprinkled Not Al’s face & he shrieked, collapsing to the ground. Purple smoke came from his ears: Puck caught it in the vial before it got away.

 

Egg

The pastor collapsed, eyes closed. “Is he...?” “No. He’ll be OK. We got the demon.” A demon? It smelled like rotten egg. I didn’t want to know what would happen if it escaped. Anyway, I had to get back to school. My mom was going to be there to pick me up. 

 

Basket

Mom thought Harry Potter was satanic so if she learned I’d been fighting real demons I’d be homeschooled fast. “How was your day, sweetie?”

“Peer counseling all day.”

“Don’t let that get in the way of school or your grades will go to hell in a handbasket.” 

 


Whose
It wasn’t till dinner I realized I had 0 contact info for Puck. I was dying to see if the “saving school-witch grabbing-demon hunt” stuff REALLY HAPPENED. “What if he’s absent tomorrow?” I would die. This was 1 girl whose reality had been altered for good.

Picture
We were a picture: Me in my cardigan and loafers, and him... kinda looking like a Sex Pistol. All I knew is that fighting demons with a person makes you close pretty quickly. “We gotta hit the library. There’re two there.” “You know I actually have to go to school, right?”


Hippopotamus
“That’s OK,” said Puck, ”I meant the demons will be in the school library.” “Good grief! Is our school always in trouble?” “You have no idea,” he said. At this point I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear a hippopotamus was going to round the corner at any second.


Exile
Puck put his hands on my shoulders. “Let’s exile these mother-effers and get you to AP Calculus,” he said. Maybe I was cut out for this. “My vision’s of the reference section.” “To the library!” I said, ”Let’s nab some mother-f*cking demons!” Puck’s jaw dropped.


Free
The library was demon-free (2 purple horrors disguised as PTA moms)within minutes, but that egg salad smell was going to take a while to clear. Puck palmed the vials of demon goo, waving at the clueless librarian on the way out. I wasn’t even late to class.


Halo
Everyone saw Puck’s tattoos, piercings, and the holes in his jeans. What they missed was his halo. His grades might be limping along, but lots of people around him were thriving because of his visions and serious skills when it came to hunting demons.



Bungalow
It was difficult to concentrate in class, but I managed. The world just felt different now. I used to picture myself growing old in a bungalow full of cats, but lately my future was hazy. I was sort of hoping it included demon hunting and a couple tattoos

Feel
I began to feel restless by lunch break. Now that I knew demons were hiding among us & I had a knack for hunting them being first in line for hot lunch pizza just didn’t feel so important. I needed to find Puck. I needed to know if he’d had another vision.

Language

I almost gave up when an arm pulled me into the hallway. 

“Gotta step off campus.” 

I grimaced. 

“Just for a minute,I swear!” he said. 

“What did you see?” 

“Little granny on Hope St.” 

“Not really a granny?” 

He shook his head. 

“Sh*t!” “Language,girl!” He grinned.



Watch

"I keep forgetting to watch my mouth these days.

"Huh," he said, "I guess I'm a bad influence."

He was so wrong. He was a better person than anyone I’d ever met. Also, he was a kick-a$$ demon hunter.

“Let’s go find us a demon granny!”

I was ready.