A short, short story about a timeless life.

/ Janna Hill / 7 Comments
Inspired by Time and Eternity, on a topic I have often dwelt on and for whatever reason I feel compelled to share a piece written in in 2011. And congratulations to Snowak for being Freshly pressed

 A short, short story about a timeless life.

Consumed by a paralyzing and debilitating dread. Lying inert as frenzied milliseconds spark still frames with bursts of terrestrial years past.
Whirling memories so fast they pin my mind to the wall with such intense pressure I cannot even utter why or what.
And then…
Quiet… Calm… Tranquility as clean and clear as the waters of a mountain spring. A peace more pure than morning dew.
Entrancing light more than warms and welcomes me, it heals me.
All of my troubles now seem trivial, fleeting, and totally unimportant.
I am overcome by a sense of well being… an indescribable comfort that makes pain, sorrow and worry words I no longer  comprehend.
There are no strangers here, I know everyone and everyone knows me. The glowing they emit is untainted and wholesome, it is love and it nourishes my spirit.
The further I travel from this flesh and bone shell, the more peaceful and perfect I feel.
Awakened to the memory of such wonder and well being I can see the universe. Where we have all been, where we are going, together.
I am not grieved for anyone who is not here, only grateful for those present.
I want to ask questions but none of them really matter now. The few inquiries I have are answered before I can speak:
Yes, they are here. The answer is no. Time? Time has many meanings. .. All in due time.
A sudden jolt and I awake ensnared in this weak, pained, decaying carcass. More aware now of all these imperfections, though less troubled by them for they are the fate of every man to some degree.
I am made aware that the anxiety of transition will remain. As it was coming into the flesh, it will be when returning to the spirit. Much like the fear of a roller coaster one is determined to ride.
Death comes to every life and life comes from every death.
And me…. I nearly lived.

Crazy Conversations (My Mother)

/ Janna Hill / 7 Comments

Cotton, peas, your friends, your seat, your nose… There are a lot of things you can pick. Family isn’t one of them. Disclaimer: Life is crazy, people are crazier and my family… well they get the crazy award if there is one. This is a work of ‘true fiction’ inspired by family. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. CAUTION: They cuss.


Old family photo

Old family photo

Me: Look at this old photograph I found the other day mama. That’s back when you smoked and had curly hair.

Mama: You mean back before you drove me to pulling it out by the roots.

Me: You still have a lot of hair mother.

Mama: Not nearly as much and what I do have has been pulled straight as a board.

Me: I’m sorry I worried you.

Mama: You still worry me.

Me: Why? I have been an upstanding citizen for years now.

Mama: I’ve noticed you’re not working on your promotions.

Me: I thought you said relations, so I worked on that.

Mama: So you’re gettin’ plenty of sex then?

Me: Yes ma’am.

Mama: Okay now get to work on your promotions.

Me: You want me to promote my relations?

Mama: Hell no. You know what I mean.

Me: You told me a few weeks ago I should get back to writing.

Mama: So how is the latest story coming along?

Me: I’ve got a few thousand words written.

Mama: Yep. Same 3,449 you had last month I bet. I never see you online.

Me: I don’t see you on line either.

Mama: Don’t get sassy with me little girl. You know my computer is slow and I don’t have all day to wait on a single page to load. I’m busy.

Me: I know you are. Between watching Jeopardy and feeding the dog I don’t know how you manage to have dinner ready by 4 PM much less find time to get online.

Mama: I get on there once or twice a week but you know that computer is so old.

Me: What about your laptop? The one you got for your birthday, it’s fairly new.

Mama: I don’t like the way it feels – I don’t know why you girls even got that for me.

Me: Because you asked for it?

Mama: I wanted something that would surf faster.

Me: Your ISP is the problem mother, not the computer.

Mama: If my ESP was working I wouldn’t need a computer.

Me: No, I said your ISP. That is your internet service provider. You need to upgrade.

Mama: I can’t get anything but dial up where I live.

Me: All of your neighbors have high speed internet.

Mama: Big deal. Your brother still has to walk out in the back yard to use his cell phone.

Me: You could get an internet dish.

Mama: I already have a dish.

Me: Do they offer an internet service package?

Mama: That’s thirty dollars more a month.

Me: That doesn’t sound bad.

Mama: I think I just need another computer.

Me: That wouldn’t help.

Mama: That attitude right there is why you’re not selling more books.

Me: Why do you say that?

Mama: Well instead of blogging all day and worrying about what I’m doing you could be attending book signings. I saw one in last week’s paper.

Me: Yeah, I saw that. They invited four or five authors – I wasn’t one of them.

Mama: You should go anyway.

Me: Hey, that would be fun. You and I could go and check out the new books.

Mama: I don’t have time to lollygag around some bookstore. I want you to go – you could share a table with some nice girl and maybe make a real friend. You need to interact more with living people.

Me: You make it sound like I hang out in cemeteries.

Mama: How do you know those online people are who they say they are?

Me: I don’t know if they are honest but I feel pretty sure they are alive.

Mama: Might just be your computer talking back to you.

Me: You should write about that.

Mama: Might be a woman pretending to be a gay man.

Me: Hey, I heard a story like that. There was a-

Mama: Shh!  Alex Trebek is talking.

Crazy Conversations (Christmas Dinner)

/ Janna Hill / Leave a comment

Cotton, peas, your friends, your seat, your nose… There are a lot of things you can pick. Family isn’t one of them. Disclaimer: Life is crazy, people are crazier and my family… well they get the crazy award if there is one. This is a work of ‘true fiction’ inspired by family. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. CAUTION: They cuss.

Teddy, Gene and Beth couldn’t be with us due to the fact that Teddy and Gene had a hangover prior engagement [they had some how forgotten about] and poor Beth is a tit bag didn’t feel well.Turkey Tom

Robert: Why are we having turkey? Turkey is traditional. I thought you all agreed on a non-traditional Christmas dinner.

Audrey: We did.

Robert: Well turkey is about as non-traditional as my –

Audrey: Robert! Watch your mouth. Besides this is Christmas Eve, you can have a non-traditional dinner tomorrow.

Robert: But what about today?

Audrey: Today you will eat turkey.

Tom: If I’d known we were having turkey I would have stayed home.

Audrey: Just carve the bird dear; you don’t have to eat it.  Be sure to set some aside for Beth. She likes turkey and it might make her feel better.

Robert: Beth will eat anything that doesn’t eat her first. She should have dragged her lazy ass off of the sofa if she wanted turkey.  I ought to eat the whole bird out of spite – that would serve her right.

Tom: Bob please don’t talk bad about Beth when she isn’t here to defend herself.

Robert: What did I say that wasn’t true? You know you’re married to a bitchy hag that thinks she’s a diva.

Tom: She is my diva.

Robert: Oh hell, now you’re gonna make me puke. You have no idea there is a difference between a diva and a bitch.

Audrey: Stop it Robert! I can’t believe you kissed my mother with that nasty mouth.

Robert: Don’t worry; I spit the cuss words out before I kissed her. So what are we having for meat?

Audrey: There is chicken in the dressing, eat that.

Robert: There isn’t enough chicken in that dressing to fill my hollow tooth.

Audrey: First you insult my sister now you disrespect my mother’s dressing?

Robert: How am I disrespecting her dressing?

Audrey: You know there is a whole chicken in there and you make a smart alack remark about your hollow tooth. Maybe you should see a dentist.

Robert: I saw the dentist two weeks ago. You know that.

Audrey: What did he say about that hollow tooth? Did he offer to fill it?

Robert: I don’t need any fillings, my teeth are perfectly fine.

Audrey: Then the chicken shouldn’t be a problem.

Robert: This is the saddest damn dinner I’ve ever seen. It is gawdam meatless. I bet Beth is layed up eating a slab of frickin’ brisket. You’re right Tom, you should have stayed home and I should have gone to your house.

Audrey: Kiss my ass Robert.

Robert: OH, Audrey. You said a bad word.

Tom: She didn’t mean it.

Audrey: Oh I totally meant it! Literally. I don’t give a flying rat’s patootie if he eats the turkey or the dressing but I sincerely want him to kiss my bare naked butt or he’ll have turkey sandwiches for a month.

Robert: Now I never said I didn’t like turkey sandwiches. Come to think of it I like them a lot on wheat bread with mayonnaise… Tom slice it real thin and wrap a few pieces for us to take home. Not the drumstick, I don’t like-

Audrey: Robert?

Robert: What?

Audrey: Would you like to kiss my derrière before or after you say the blessing?

Robert: After would probably be better for me.

Weekly Photo Challenge : Delicate

/ Janna Hill / 7 Comments
The dainty weaves of a dream-catcher
The frail skin around the eye
The tender glistening taste buds
The sensitive hairs of the nares
The delicate traces of dust and webs

Thank you dear husband for allowing me to photograph your delicate sensory organs while you slept. I was so excited when you yawned, exposing your pretty little tongue to the camera. I must admit I worried you were going to wake up when I pulled at your eyelid but you were such a trooper and went right back to snoring. I’m sorry about waving the dusty faux rose in your face but it was part of the ceremony. Oh, and you were right sweetie, you do need to trim your nose hairs.

This week’s photo challenge is titled Delicate

It’s the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)

/ Janna Hill / 5 Comments

I wish I hadn’t drank all of those margaritas on the beach the night before….  I wish I hadn’t downed so many Dos Equis on the bus ride but OMG it took like ninety hours to get there and a margarita hangover leaves a person very thirsty.

December 21st of 2012. I don’t recall that date being mentioned in 1995 when we toured the ancient grounds of Chichen Itza. I suppose it was irrelevant with Y2K looming in the not so distant future. Maybe the guide did make mention and I missed it because I was passed out resting half way up the pyramid. That of course would not have happened if he’d sent the Sherpa I requested.

I don’t think the tour guide liked me despite my best efforts to build a rapport.

“Parlez-vous français?” I had asked. “Oui- petit.” He responded. That exhausted my french so I gave him a slap on the back and said, “Well jolly good for you old chap.” He snarled and started his rehearsed dialogue for the small crowd.

Everyone listened in awe as he pointed at the cracked engravings and bits of broken symbols, skirting over the fissures and holes filled with smooth stones. I am not a hieroglyphics expert but I could see large gaps of information were missing from the story. Laying my linguistic talents aside and in my most authentic voice I gently interrupted, “Sir? Pardon me? With so much of the picture missing how can you be sure of that interpretation?” but like a well-trained telemarketer he pressed forward with the history lesson he’d been taught.

“Escuzzie  moi señor? Ooday ooyay hablas ingles?” I asked. Initially he ignored me but after repeating the inquiry eight times I got his undivided attention and readied my next question as he turned to face me. “Are there any little Mayan peoples left? Perhaps you have an oral history -”

“NO!” he snapped before slowly raising the corner of his mouth to reveal sharp decaying teeth. I have to admit it was a bit creepy staring down the rusty tines of this human tiller so I spat, “Fine! I’ll just look at the rocks and make up my own story.”

After silent hours of wandering aimlessly research (silent unless you count the noise of the Quetzal) the only conclusion I came away with was this: We are not an advanced generation; not in 1995 and not now. We assume way too much and despite all of our technical gadgets, we are idiots.

So December 21st is only days away and I sit staring at 17 year old photographs wondering, Where is my fanny pack and that intelligent archeological tourist hat that hubby was wearing? Where on earth did I get those outrageous shorts and what will I get the children for Christmas? All the while one line from a song I can’t remember loops in my frontal lobe. ‘It’s the end of the world as we know & it and I feel fine.’ I think that’s REM. They may have been ahead of their time and we may be out of it. Any naysayers, doomsdayer’s or opinions on the subject? Personally – if I can pinch my own flesh I’m not falling for it.

The Temple of the Jaguar
After the Sherpa saved me.
Hmm – I forgot 😦
The Temple of the Warriors. Psst. The column count is not even near 1000.
Forget the ball game let’s get right to the removing of the heads 😮
The Observatory. I could live there.
If the hieroglyph were complete it would say…
So that explains the Colonels recipe and why KFC will never be the same.
That is the most intelligent archeological tourist hat – why isn’t he happy?!
Rocking a most awesome fanny pack

What’s In a Dream

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What’s in a dream? Ask ten experts and you will get at least seven variable opinions.

Are the images and stories played out while we rest simply the mind’s way of defragmenting and filing away information or are they forgotten conversations of long ago? Are dreams conjured by restless imaginations, unconquered fears or outside stimulation? Are they side effects of what we eat and drink or are they answers to what we seek? Suppose one isn’t [knowingly] seeking anything other than a good night’s sleep? I have only questions that beget more questions.

Somewhere in the twilight of slumber a woman approaches. Her brown eyes and skin are soft, almost radiant. Her dark hair rests like black satin about her shoulders; her lips are like wine but she does not speak for there is no need to. She holds a palm leaf in her hand and offers with it her wisdom. I follow her to a place where patches of green grass surround a dry fountain and we sit with feet resting on knees and commune. A man watches in the distance… her protector? She has no reason to fear me nor do I fear of either of them. A repetitious psalm begins, one I am not familiar with. I motion to cease the unnecessary chant. They want to barter, she will tell me of a cure – a cure for the mind if I will….

I abruptly inform her that I do not bargain. I do not know her. Though she appears trustworthy I am skeptical. She politely bows her head when I inquire as to who she is and who sent her. As they vanish a white scroll of ribbon appears with blue letters written out before my eyes.

whats in a dream

 

Sporadically over the years I have typed the phrase into every search engine and came to naught. I don’t recall ever seeing or hearing the term…

What’s in a dream? Once again I am left with only questions. Possibly it is just a bizarre tale waiting to be told for the reader’s entertainment. But not tonight. I am off in search of undisturbed sleep without riddles or prophesy.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Changing Seasons

/ Janna Hill / 11 Comments

Weekly Photo Challenge: Changing Seasons

The winter solstice is due to hit Texas on December 21st and the last of the golden Hickory leafs are falling. Another season will soon have passed leaving only the evergreens to stand watch while nature sleeps.

As the days are shortened it seems patience is lengthened (if only for a short time) and hearts give way to kinder notions. Colorful festivities dot the dulling landscape and religious traditions are celebrated all over the world. What a sight that must be to behold from the heavens.

The garden tools are stored away and replaced with the red, gold and greens of Christmas. These things [along with a good bonfire] make the change much more bearable.

The last of the Autumn leaves
The red, gold and greens of Christmas
A flame to ward off Old Man Winter

Waiting

/ Janna Hill / 5 Comments

I honestly didn’t know who this man was (I’m sheltered like that) until Sara’s post exposed him here on WordPress. No, I do not live in a cave though I have often wished I did.

The thing that moved me other than his world renown photography is that Steve McCurry’s Simple Act of Waiting  told in pictures is [chillingly] what I imagined when I wrote Waiting. I seriously got goosebumps.

If you’re like me (sheltered and horrible with names) or you are lucky enough to live in a cave, that doesn’t matter – I know you will recognize his photos when you see them. Who could forget the eyes of the Afghan girl starring out from the cover of National Geographic? Who would want to?

Waiting

For hopes that hung on a chicken bones
For hearts that lived in chains
For pods of green that died unknown
While waiting for the rain

For dreams left bare on empty prayer
For souls that wished in vain
For tears unshared in mute despair
While waiting for a change

For you and I and all mankind
For worlds where peace was slain
For faith and mind no man can bind
We wait and wait again

Poem first published in Interior Verse © 2012. Republished 2018 in Getting Me Back

Weekly Photo Challenge: Reflections

/ Janna Hill / 13 Comments

Reflections. One could go in so many (deeper) directions with this week’s photo challenge. I chose a few simple mirrored images.
You know I have become somewhat of a procrastinator and [once again] goofed off all weekend. So now it is Monday and everyone has gone back to their weekly grind leaving me without a proven assistant, someone to inspire me and offer suggestions. Oh sure I have plenty of insects and dying foliage but they don’t seem to speak to me at the moment. Was it something I said? I don’t know. Nevertheless I found a new assistant. He is young and inexperienced, a bit awkward and doesn’t take directions well but he works really cheap. I mean really, really cheap. After a few belly rubs and a dog biscuit I had him eating out of my hand, literally. And now without further ado I present to you the reflections of Mr. Clyde Kadiddlehopper.

"Calm down Clyde or you'll break the mirror."

“Calm down Clyde or you’ll break the mirror.”

"Now you both have a biscuit. Good boy."

“Now you both have a biscuit. Good boy.”

"I know you're a little apprehensive but..."

“I know you’re a little apprehensive but…”

"Ponder Clyde... what does 'reflection' mean to you?"

“Ponder Clyde… what does ‘reflection’ mean to you?”

"It's okay you cracked the mirror. Cheer up -dogs aren't supposed to be superstitious."

“It’s okay you cracked the mirror. Cheer up -dogs aren’t supposed to be superstitious.”

Weekly Photo Challenge: Thankful

/ Janna Hill / 10 Comments

I’m a little late in getting this post out but still I am pleased to be able to participate in this week’s photo challenge Thankful.

There are so many things I have to be thankful for… to be grateful for. So many family members, friends and fans – you know who you are and I love you. I am thankful for you!

The photographs I chose have less to do with the colorful umbrella and more to do with the conversations held beneath it…

Nothing to do with the roof but the souls that have been sheltered under it…

And the door, well it’s just the gateway to another world. So many comings and goings and so many to be thankful for.