St. John’s, NL

Touring St. John’s was a delightful experience. The Rose Heritage Inn was comfortable with it’s B&B. We were fed a warm breakfast every morning. St. John’s was a bit on the cool side. I think the warmest it got was 15 degrees Celsius. Mind you it was the end of May. We ate fish everyday (didn’t check out the cod tongues).

A must see is Signal hill, Cape Spears lighthouse, Quidi Vidi and down town St. John’s. There is a memorial of Terry Fox where he started his run.

We walked George Street but we didn’t check out the bars. They say they have some true Celtic music.

Took a ferry to Bell Island

A Day at a Time

This is the third revision from One Day at a Time. I don’t see much more I should do but if I do find anything it will be on this post. Thank you to those who have taken the time to read it. Below this is the second version.

It was a very cold day and frigid temperatures were chilling but I headed out anyway. I could see my breath with every exhale as I walked out into the cold.

You see I was on night shift and when I got home I couldn’t sleep so I left the house at noon and headed one direction. The frost on the trees and the crisp, white snow were so inviting. I don’t know how long I’d been walking but from the corner of my eye, I could see a white coat of frost that had set on my hair. Next thing I remember, I found myself walking in the park. It was not a park that I frequented as it was quite a distance from my place. I was starting to numb at this point but I kept walking in daze until I noticed the fog with its thick blanket that framed the park. That was when I realized where I’d gone. It was the beauty that the fog enclosed that caught my attention. I couldn’t believe how my thoughts had run deep that I had lost track of time. All from one patient: The effect of a passing that could take a toll on me, one’s fate that we have no control over, then the work load, exhausting, and that woman, his wife. I thought after a year in the field of nursing I would have built a shield of armor but instead I felt more and more sympathetic.

During studies my teacher had said to us not to get emotionally attached to our patients but I never saw this coming. Everyday his wife was in and the look on her face when she lost her husband was haunting: Those eyes, the fear in her face and all I could say to her was, I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop rehearsing it in my head. I felt so sad and I kept wondering if there was more I could have done.

I never lost a patient whom I cared for since entering the field. I didn’t know whether I could get over this or deal with another case as devastating. I was now questioning my career. I was even fighting the idea of having to work another day, let alone two more before my days off.

“I could do this,” I had whispered as I was leaving the park to head home. At that point, my feet were tingling.

Where had the time gone? I looked at my watch, 4:30. The sun was starting to set. Short days made it feel later than it was. I walked up to my door. Fingers stiff, I managed to finally unlock the door. I slipped off my boots and settled on the sofa. I turned the television on. I could still feel the tingling in my feet. I tugged and managed to pull my socks off and rubbed my feet to get the circulation flowing while I stared blankly at the TV. Nothing on it was getting my attention. Finally turning it off. I strolled into the kitchen and searched the fridge for something to snack on. I wasn’t really wanting to eat but I had to have at least a small bite of something. I put together a bologna sandwich and poured a glass of orange juice. Sauntering back into the living room, I plopped on the sofa, feet on the ottoman and sat in silence. I just wanted quiet for now and hoped these feelings of dread of loss and despair of healthcare that are inevitable would ease. Before I knew it I had fallen asleep on the couch.

My last two days of work had gone by fast. Before I knew it, I was on days off and I remember feeling relieved. A heavy weight had lifted.

It wasn’t like I didn’t know this field of work had its ups and down, just didn’t think it would affect me quite this hard. I hoped after my days off I’d get my strength back and start looking forward to work again.

I called my friend and planned an evening out: dinner, movie and end with a drink at the nightclub. I hadn’t been out since starting my job. It was no wonder I was a mess, so it could be said that all work and no play makes a mess of a nurse.

My days off were a blessing in disguise. I felt refreshed and recouped. Getting out really had helped. My friend was so supportive and all we did was laugh and talk about the fun things we had done before I got busy and neglected myself. I was even ready to get back to work without dread.

Original version Take it One Day at a Time

One Day at a Time

I normally don’t revise in a separate reposted version but I decided to make an exception and revise Take it One Day at a Time so that you may see the original version. This version will now remain as is. The third revision can be viewed here A Day at a Time.

It was a very cold day and frigid temperatures were chilling to the bone but I headed out anyway. You see I was on night shift and when I got home I couldn’t sleep so I left the house at noon and headed one direction. The frost on the trees and the crisp, white snow were so inviting. I could even see my breath with every exhale. From the corner of my eye, I saw a white coat of frost that had set on my hair. I don’t know how long I’d been walking but before I knew I was in the park. I was starting to numb but I kept walking in daze. The fog was thick and framed the park so that all I saw was the beauty that it enclosed. My thoughts were running deep: One’s fate that we have no control over, the work load and that woman. I thought after a year in the field of nursing I would have built a shield of armor but instead I felt more and more sympathetic.

During studies my teacher had said to us not to get emotionally attached to our patients but I never saw this coming. Everyday his wife was in and the look on her face when she lost her husband was haunting: Those eyes, the fear in her face and all I could say to her was, I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop rehearsing it in my head. I felt so sad and I kept wondering if there was more I could have done.

I never lost a patient whom I cared for since entering the field. I didn’t know whether I could get over this or deal with another case as devastating. I was now questioning my career. I even was fighting the idea of having to work another day, let alone two more before my days off.

“I could do this,” I whispered as I was leaving the park to head home.

Where had the time gone. I looked at my watch, 4:30. The sun was starting to set. Short days made it feel later than it was. I walked up to my door. Fingers stiff, I managed to finally unlock the door. I slipped off my boots and settled on the sofa. I turned the television on. I could feel my feet tingling. I tugged and managed to pull my socks off and rubbed my feet to get the circulation flowing. I was staring blankly at the TV. Nothing on it was getting my attention. I finally turned it off. I strolled into the kitchen and searched the fridge for something to snack on. I didn’t really want to eat but I had to have at least a small bite of something. I put together a bologna sandwich and poured a glass of orange juice. I sauntered back into the living room and sat on the sofa. I put my feet on the ottoman and sat in silence. I just wanted quiet for now and hoped these feelings of dread of loss and despair of healthcare that are inevitable would ease. Before I knew it I had fallen asleep on the couch.

My last two days of work went by fast. Before I knew it, I was on days off and I remember feeling relieved. A heavy weight I’d been holding in my chest had lifted.

It wasn’t like I didn’t know this field of work had its ups and downs. I just didn’t think it would affect me quite this hard. I hoped after my days off I’d get my strength back and start looking forward to work again.

I called my friend and planned an evening out: dinner, movie and end with a drink at the nightclub. I hadn’t been out since starting my job. It was no wonder that I was a mess, so it could be said that all work and no play makes a mess of a nurse.

My days off were a blessing in disguise. I felt refreshed and recouped. Getting out really had helped. My friend was so supportive and all we did was laugh and talk about the fun things we had done before I got busy and neglected myself. I was even ready to get back to work without dread.

Original version Take it One Day at a Time

Destiny

I spread thy wings

early morning arising

to fulfill a longing

desireth for growing

for I was born to live

life to its fullest

in pursuit

for which the heart cravith

§

It is in the air that flows

a breath that cannot be seen

a flitter of hope

that faith holds

where fate lies

for which the heart cravith

S.L.S Oborowsky

Rewrite from writing prompt created by Kellie Elmore. Original post, titled My Contribution retitled Destiny

Train Ride – Revised

The word bank prompt by Kellie Elmore for inspiration is Train – Burlap – Fiction – Pearls – Vertigo

Friday prompts are unedited and created in free writing to see what you come up with using the inspirational prompt by another, as Kellie does. For me it helps get the juices flowing as well as opening me up to my inner creative thoughts. Because free writing is meant to help overcome blocks, it opens the mind. This technique with Kellie uses a focused freewrite topic to help stimulate the thought. I find it works well.  Normally I don’t show my revision in a separate post but because I have a spot for freewrite Friday, I created a separate spot for rewrites. Plus, freewriting posts are mean to be free thought flow of writing to be posted as is unlike noted in my Author’s Note stating that I write then edit, which in that instance I don’t leave a trail. I just revise the original after posting and save, overriding the other post each time or however many times I may revise a post. Enough, now here is my revision.

A cool, fall breeze blew. It was Friday and every Friday I took the train home for the weekend. It was my break away from college life. I’d feel vertigo by the week’s end from overload. Also, stress from late night studying gave me major home sick blues.

I packed a small bag and headed out to the train station. As usual I was 15 minutes early. I paced to keep warm. The train was always on time. Fifteen minutes gone by and by this time I would usually be already on board and warming up but no train yet! It was five minutes after 7 when I finally heard the whistle blow.

“Finally,” I remember whispering under my breath. My arms were crossed and I was rubbing them to keep the circulation flowing. As soon as the train stopped and the doors opened, I scurried in. Pulling out my ticket from my pocket, handing it, I walked on and took a seat. I had a small overnight bag with me. I pulled out my pocketbook, the pearl of life that released the overloaded brain. A train pulling boxcars was already coming in as we headed out. We were usually long gone by the time the other train came in. After staring out the window for a minute or two, I managed to put my head down and start reading. It took me some time to get into the fictional characters again.

He lain on the burlap rug with Maggie. The lights dim…”Why do you have to go?” Maggie sobbed.

“Get your ass over?” a voice sounded from behind.

I tried to zone it out. Then a baby started to cry.

“shut that baby up.” I then heard. “hon’ relax.” a woman’s voice said softly.

I heard a loud rumble. I thought, “What an ass.” I rolled my eyes, shook my head, my mouth tense, before putting my head back down to read again. A woman walked by with her infant as she made her way to the restroom. The baby still crying. I glanced up at her and gave her a sympathetic smile and put my head back down. I tried desperately to get back into the book.

The baby’s radiating squeal flowed through the paper-thin walls.

“Someone shut that baby up.” I heard that man yell again.

I couldn’t believe it: the late train, the loud, obnoxious man, the baby crying and the poor woman whom I could almost feel her tension. Ugh and a headache was almost coming on.

I tried desperately to get back into my book. The whistle then bellowed. I looked and we were there. I was so happy. I slammed the book down on my lap and bent over to grab my bag. I angrily got off the train practically twitching from being stiff with tension.

There stood my father waiting. He had a big smile. I could feel my shoulders slowly relax as the tension faded by the smile. I smiled back as I walked up to him and gave him a big hug. He appeared to be taken aback.

Writing prompts created by Kellie Elmore. Original post, titled Train Ride, is under Free Writing Friday.

Blood Moon – Revised

October 30, 2013 the blood moon shines its bloody temptation as bright as the harvest moon in the early morning of autumn. The wolves thirst for blood while hunters thirst for game.

It is a cool, calm morning. Gerry and Darwin are in their orange caps and camouflage suits. The wives warn not to go. It is said it is the year of the attack of hunter against the hunter but Gerry and Darwin ignore them. They get into their big, 4×4 GMC truck and head out into the early morning dew. When arriving into the old, narrow road leading into the deep of the woods, Darwin parks the truck as far in as he could drive. They each pull their guns out from behind the seat and head down the trails.

“I’ll go down here.” Gerry points.

“Okay. Good luck and shoot to kill my friend.”

“First one to get the game shoots two more to direct the other. May the best man win.” Gerry waves as he disappears into the woods.

“See you in ten minutes.” Darwin replies as he walks another direction, v-ing off into the woods.

Ten minutes and a bang is heard followed by the echo. Darwin turns but no other shot is heard. He stands waiting. A few minutes later, he decides to ignore the shot and walks on. Crunching sound of leaves startle him. He turns but sees no one, then calls out, “Gerry?” followed by a repeating echo.

Darwin begins to walk again and the sound of someone following also begins before hearing another shot. Turning his head toward the direction of gun shot, he stops suddenly. Looks around but it falls silent. He starts to walk faster toward the area he thought he heard the shot and the crushing sound of leaves begin again. “Gerry?” still no reply and no other gunshot goes off. He looks back, “Gerry?” Darwin bellows but no reply. He decides to turn toward the sound of the crushing leaves. “Gerry, okay stop!” he shouts angrily while walking toward the direction he thought someone was but the sound of someone following him sounds like it’s behind him again. Feeling confused, he turns and walks back the other way where he thought the gunshot came from.

A half hour gone and he hasn’t found Gerry. He hears crushing sounds, turns and sees a shadow in the deep of the woods. Waiting for it to expose itself, he stands breathing shallow, gun up and aiming into the woods.

“Boo!” Out pops Gerry.

“You…” Darwin curses. “What the heck? I could have shot you!”

Gerry laughs hysterically. “I got the big one.”

Darwin follows. They load it, getting their catch a day before Halloween horror.

“Why didn’t you answer or fire three shots?”

“I hit it but it got up and started to run and had to chase it. That’s the second shot that killed it. Hey, I’m sorry. I had to get it. I then heard you near so, well, you know.”

A wolf stands watching them drive out of the woods. Blood dripping from his mouth.

Writing prompts created by Kellie Elmore. Original post, titled Blood Moon, was Mark’s prompt filling in for Kelly.

Shower of Sadness – Rewrite

Image courtesy of Kelly

It is an occasion, her occasion, but my heart aches as I watch her walk gracefully. I should be cheering and celebrating with her but I can’t. I fake a smile as she walks by.

Savannah Jacobson, an elegant woman of grace, had been my friend since childhood.  We always said we’d merry on the same day and have children who’d play together. However, I haven’t found Mr. Right and she is already having her first child.

I could hear laughter fading as my thought deepens. I feel like I’m losing a friend. She has stepped into a place I feel I don’t fit in. A gathering of mothers and children have displaced me. All I see are the movement of lips, kids running around mommies and expressions of laughter. I begin to feel an urge to run away when a tap on my shoulder jolts me back to the now.

“Oh! Savannah.”

“Hi, sorry. I’m not ignoring you.” she says softly.

“It’s fine. I know you’re busy with everything. You look radiant by the way and you have a beautiful glow. Just as they say. Is the gift I got you okay?”

“I love it. Thank you. Is everything okay Rebecca?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve known you all my life. Please.”

“Yes, everything is fine.” I deny. I give her a big smile.

I know she doesn’t believe me but she leaves it at that.

Her sister interrupts and just in time, “Everyone, QUIET.”

She has our attention and I feel like sneaking way again. Savannah taps my leg. “You have to join in.”

“We are going to play a little game.”

“I really would like to just watch if you don’t mind Savannah. I’m not much of a game player. You know that.” leaning toward her ear, I whisper.

“It’ll be fun.” she whispers back.

“If everyone would please come up to the craft table.”

Savannah grabs my hand and pulls me. I follow with dread.

“The object of the game is to create a mask and the best mask wins by popular vote. There are feathers, beads, sparkles, glue and masquerade masks. Please go ahead and start as soon as I say go and I will begin the timer. As soon as the buzzer goes off, stop whatever you are doing. May the best mask win. Everyone ready, GO!.”

I dive right in and divulge myself into the craft. I begin to release all the negative as the time ticks. A half-hour later, the buzzer goes off. I have a masterpiece. I am quite impressed. Savannah looks over and smiles. I give her a real smile. I feel so silly for thinking so awful.

“It wasn’t so bad was it.” she whispers.

“No, thank you.”

“Our friendship doesn’t change, Rebecca.”

“How’d you know?”

“I know you. I know you feel out of place. You don’t have to.”

I give her a big hug as I wipe away my tear.

S.L.S Oborowsky
Prompt by Kellie Elmore for Free Writing Friday. Revised. Original post – Shower of Sadness

Fall – Rewrite

 

It’s beautiful out with the sun shining. The sunflower that had cheered up the garden with its amber colors has now turned brown. Golden yellow, red and orange of fall that were everywhere has now Fallen. The foliage has covered the grass. The air is nippy. I don’t want to step into the breeze of fall.

I prepare a warm cup of Cocoa and slip on a sweater. I go to the tool shed and get the rake. I slowly make my way to the apple tree as I sip my hot chocolate. There are decayed apples everywhere mixed with dead leaves. Putting my hot chocolate down, I begin raking. The aroma of the apples carry with the breeze. It smells like the applesauce I had just finished canning.

This whole month had been busy with fall chores. The last of the apples turned into applesauce were in a large wicker basket on my counter top until yesterday. I had started with the canning and freezing early September. I’m relieved that I’m at the final stage of fall chores. I get to enjoy this time before snow falls and hibernating through winter. Although I enjoy the fall with the beautiful colors, the crushing sound of the leaves when they have fallen and have a reason to make hot drinks, I don’t look forward to where we are heading. Fall breeze, cool to the bone, feels like snow is near. The dried leaves covering my lawn have to be raked before they get buried by snow. The dreadful part of fall that leads to winter blues.

S.L.S Oborowsky

Rewrite of Fall prompt by Kellie Elmore. Original post – Fall

The Ivy Covered Gate – Rewrite

When darkness fell, bats swarmed around the gate. They protected the death that lied beyond. A well-worn path led to the depleted dwelling. Rumor had it a wizened women roamed it now and then. “No trespassing” sign allured the children to the path but no one dared to enter through the ivy covered gate. The branches undressed and bare of leaves had been cast into darkness.

Shadows of mysterious shapes loomed at dawn and when night fell and the bats came out, the children were nowhere to be found lingering around the gate.

The only child who had ever entered was said to have never been seen from again.

Did it really have a fatal consequence if entered? No one really knew. It was all based on speculation so Trezar dared Alfred…

S.L.S Oborowsky

Prompt by Kellie Elmore for Free Writing Friday, revised. Original post – The Ivy Covered Gate

My Name is John – Rewrite

Photo – By Kellie Elmore

I grew up a broken man and when my wife left and my children wished nothing of me, I became a bitter man.

I could blame it on my father, that drunken son of a bitch, but I was an adult who made the same mistakes.

Let me go to where it all began. I took to the bottle when I was 16. Stole it from my passed-out father who drowned his sorry ass in a bottle of rum. It wasn’t always like that. It wasn’t until after my mother died of leukemia, a poor excuse for a man. But, it was what it was. I learned from him. Use the bottle to get you through to tomorrow.

When I met my wife, she had no idea how bad it was. It wasn’t what I had planned. I thought if I had a wife it would all come together. Before long, I was drinking in front of my family. She left me three years later of threats. I was angry. Quit my job. Cursed every woman I saw. It wasn’t until I was broke and desperate before I sobered. A hard hit of reality.

I don’t have my family anymore but that bitter man left with the bottle. I sit alone and take in the world in a different perspective. I wish it had been there when I had a chance to give my family a father they deserved.

S. L. S. Oborowsky

Prompt by Kellie Elmore for Free Writing Friday. Revised. Original post – My Name is John.