BOUY-WHAT A LIFE !

TOUGH STARTING

 

I could hear nothing at all except the ferocious wind roaring in and out, between the houses and the scratching of long oak tree branches as they wanted to come into my bedroom. In all of the clatter, every once in a while, the three-quarter white moon showed its face. Venus could look down on me. The weirdness was wild and wonderful. I gathered my writing book, my pens, to start a new story but opted to leave my puter in sleep mode. Maybe something would pop into my head. I began:

 

'I could hear nothing at all except the ferocious wind roaring in and out'. My pen fell out of my hand and rolled on the chilly oak floor. A pang of desire came over me, a sweet, a sweet, my kingdom for a sweet. My white silk chemise was lying limp on the chaise while on my bed was the warm chenille old lady's robe my mom insisted I keep for a stormy night. Reluctantly I accepted  and made a big deal how glad I was to have it. That made my mother smile. I saved it for five years, , far in the back of my large but filled closet. Never did I give it a thought.

 

Tonight, when I hung up the woolen suit I wore to work,  I almost fell on something laying on the floor. Who could have been in my closet? Nobody. So how did it get on the floor? Carelessly, I picked it up and tossed it on my bed. A slight smell of Lifebuoy soap made me sneeze. 'My god, Mom, are you still here? Why did you use that orange, strong soap for so many years?' There was no answer but the odor got stronger making me sneeze again and again. I felt like I had inhaled all of it and I must have because the air cleared suddenly.

 

A branch hit the window so hard, I was sure the glass had broken, but it hadn't. The smell of chocolate covered graham crackers replaced the soap. Hmmn, a hot cup of tea would get me started writing. I began again. 'I could hear nothing at all, except the ferocious wind roaring in and out.'

 

The box of graham crackers had only two broken ones left. It would not assuage my desire. A slice of defrosted twelve grain bread with raspberry preserves helped. Still no writing ideas came to me. Everything inside of me felt clogged. Nothing, damn it, nothing.

 

The wind stopped. The tree limbs settled down. A calm came over everything. Something had to be brewing yet there was no lightning, no thunder. All was still, hushed until I felt a draft, just a little wind on my feet. Where was the draft coming from? I went room to room and the draft stayed behind me like a dog without its leash following its master.  My thought became reality. A dog barked. No, it howled like a wolf. As long as I was in the kitchen, I opened a box of pudding, mixed it, poured it in a bowl and let it sit a few minutes. One taste and the rest went down the sink.

 

That was enough. I went back to my bedroom and found my computer on. Facing me was the web site for 'How to be a Successful Writer.' I should have read it but was too frightened as who would have turned my computer on, offering advice?

 

And then I knew as the smell of Lifebuoy soap filled my nostrils.