She closed her eyes as Dr. Strohman probed gently. This was always the hard part; the reason she had bounced from counselor to counselor. She let them in just so far and then slammed the door.

Dr. Strohman was different. Her questions never felt invasive; almost as if she really cared what was said – as if the patient were as valuable as all the certificates hanging on the walls.

“Take your time,” Dr. Strohman repeated. “Tell me about your parents.”

“Daddy named me. He always said I was his little whimsy. Mother always called me her biggest mistake.”
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This is in answer to the 100 Word Challenge by Velvet Verbosity. Be sure to check out the other entries. There are some gifted Word Nerds over there.

Auntie Ellen’s rich contralto voice echoed through the lane:
Though the angry surges roll
On my tempest driven soul

Gracie bobbed her head and hummed along as they walked toward town. She loved helping Auntie Ellen with her chores even though Mama did not entirely approve such manual labor for her daughter. Today Mama was in bed with one of her spells, setting Gracie free to be with her “Auntie.”

“Storm’s a-comin’, Gracie. But don’t you be afraid, chile. He’s watchin’over us.”

“I know, Auntie.”

They linked arms and sang together as they walked.
I’ve an anchor safe and sure

Lyrics from My Anchor Holds
Words: William C. Martin
Music: Daniel B. Towner

She plumbed the depths
Of her black-hearted soul
Seeking for one elusive shard of
Light

A purity was missing and
It had been much too long
Since Good had shone into her
Darkness

Goodness was nowhere to be found
In the cold dark hell
She had created in her
Life

She sought still – sure
It would be there if
Only she could dig deeply
Enough

A friend came through
And helped her dig
Her way out – through portals dark
Dim

And there – at the bottom
Of a cold and lonely life
She found a way out – a way back
Home
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photo from Cold,Dark Heart by ~DarkRein97

You know it’s true. We’ve had a series of very rainy days and the temps are dropping. I volunteered for the Crisis Pregnancy Center’s 5K run Saturday and it took me hours to finally warm up afterwards.

But there are other ways that let you know the seasons are changing rapidly:

My personal nemesis, fireweed, is in full bloom alongside roadways and our mailbox. I decided to embrace the change this year and not fret the coming change of seasons. We’ll see how that works out for me.

Another sure sign is that the City has sent out the big boy’s tractor to scrape and level my road in preparation for the coming season’s plowing sessions.

I’m never quite ready for THAT season. Even though I know it comes at approximately the same time every year it always seems to sneak up on me. However, time is short when the weather folks are telling us there is “termination dust” appearing on the mountains. Even Mt. Redoubt had a new white dress on this week after the clouds lifted.

Painting of Clio by Pierre Mignard
ca. 1612, Troyes, France

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This week’s 100 Word Challenge is MYTH. Here’s my take on the challenge.

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“You can call me Clio.”

James smiled. “Clio it is.”

They looked toward the stage joining applause for the next performer who was good – beyond good. They showed appreciation with staccato finger snaps.

“All right, folks. The judges are ready for our next poet. Here’s Clio!”

Whipping his face to the right, James caught a wink as she climbed the steps.

They call me Clio
I am Proclaimer
Seventh daughter of Zeus
You . . .

The crowd chanted “Clio, Clio, Clio” as she strode off.

James caught her up in a hug. “Myth or no myth, Clio, I’m glad we met tonight.”

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I wanted to write of a strong woman and looked to mythology. Perhaps not strong in a traditional manner, Clio is known as the Proclaimer – the keeper of history. I’d like to think I’m a Clio at heart. I LOVE the idea of her being a slam poet shouting out her history.

btw – during poetry slams appreciation is shown by the snapping of fingers instead of applause.