Oceanic Therapy 

The ocean spoke with gentle waves, the tide rising and then reclaiming sand before returning to the water’s edge. Gemma nearly always found herself at the edge, it’s crisp salty texture a sort of massage to her damaged soul. 

In her hands tonight she held a simple gold band, smooth to the touch but wore the tear of a broken heart; a shattered promise. Gripping it so tightly it branded her skin with a small red button, tears flowed from her already swollen eyes. He’d had promised to come home. 

He’d had promised to stay safe. 

Deflated, Gemma collapsed to the ground, the waves tickling the hem of her skirt and shifting the sand beneath her knees. Heavily worked up, she began to shudder and despite hugging herself, the calm never came. “Why!” she shrieked desperately. Her voice matched the roar of the waves and for hours she sobbed, soaked from the knees down but numb to the chill. 

By dawn’s early light, Gemma had finally moved up the beach and fallen asleep beside a retaining wall. With a light twist, she’d freed her husband’s band from her thumb and gave it a light kiss and whispered, “I miss you so much.”

With tired, bloodshot eyes, she found her way to her feet and staggered back down to the water. Gemma always wondered what it was about this place that Levi loved so much. He’d never step foot into the ocean but would willingly spend hours scoping out the horizon. Sadly, she’d never know for sure, but there was something about the promise painted in the morning glow that warmed her from within. She couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but for the first time since the accident she felt the one thing she’d thought she’d lost.

Hope. 

Writing Prompt 10/8/15

Finish the sentence. Five minute exercise. 

“Death would be too easy”

Death would be too easy. A long afternoon of impatient folks, credit card swipes, and price checks were behind me and awaiting my arrival at home was a giant bowl of popcorn and my favorite comedic reruns. It didn’t matter that it was Friday night or that I should’ve been headed to the sickest club on the strip to celebrate a birthday I’d promised to make an appearance at over a month ago. 

Of course none of that mattered now. The world was a dark place, no longer full of the promise it once held. My island is overflowing with letters from collection agencies and the furniture in the studio apartment smells like its come in from off the street after a torrential downpour. Jogging pants are my new found friends, along with the ever famous Ben & Jerry.  Three jobs barely make ends meet and my life seems to be in the eye of a never ending hurricane. 

Autumn Days

Scarecrows, pumpkins, and apples-

Shorter days and longer shadows-

Colored leaves and sweaters. 

Summer has sadly come and gone,

but Autumn is here with cider and cuddles. 

Cemetery Scene – Cecelia/Caleb

I stared at the grave marker for some time, allowing the small details to penetrate my sponge like brain. But no matter how long I stood there, there just wasn’t any peace. Acceptance was further out than I had hoped and my grip on composure was slipping. 

Some distance ahead I overheard the roar of a mower and in the opposite direction, a motor. Someone coming to visit another site even though who they came to see was no longer there. 

“Cecelia,” Caleb called when he finally spotted me but I remained rooted. “Where in the world are…” I heard his breath cease in his throat. “You lived here?” He finally whispers. 

“No,” I answered. “I lived in Boston. It’s here in this spit of land”-I gestured to the surrounding area-“that Cecelia Rose Jacobs died.”

His brow furrowed. “Olivia is a Jacobs.”

With a light sigh, I broke eye contact with him, turning back to my grave marker. It’s faded with time, the weight of the weather finally taking its toll. “I know.”

Gripping my shoulder, he whipped me around. “Don’t insult my intelligence, C. You know much more then you’re letting on.”

Caleb was right. Of course he was. This entire time I’d been lying to him by omission. “Jacobs is a fairly common last name,” I started but then sighed. “Spencer Jacobs is my younger brother. I couldn’t ignore the resemblance in Olivia and everything became clear at your funeral.”

“That makes you the sister they never talk about then. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

We were running out of time. If Caleb had any chance of regaining his life we had to move quickly and patch things up later. Pointing to the sky, I seize his arm and tug him in my direction. “We don’t have much time. Let’s go.”

Monday Haiku 

Violent waves call me

Thunder rolls, lightning cracks

Bahamian storms. 

———

Monday morning blues

Traffic interrupts travel

Fine city living 

Cloud of Despair 

Like the clouds

I am free-

to be who I want to be. 

A puff of white

or a blackened canvas. 

An attempt to change me will result

in failure. 

A twist in fate-

just enough to sate

the beast within. 

Who dares to answer the call?

Not me,

for I am nothing. 

A cloud of freedom and despair. 

© October 2015 by Amber L Hoppa

Writing Prompt

Write a scene: Rain transformed the narrow path into a stream of mud and dead leaves. 

—————–

Rain transformed the narrow path into a stream of mud and dead leaves. Cecelia’s damp body was pressed up against my back as we trudged through the dense vegetation. The surrounding viney apendages whipped past us leaving scratches and jabs in their wake.  

Cecelia whimpered softly when the branches would recoil past but stayed close without complaint. I didn’t know where this path led, but I had to trust it’d eventually give way to a clearing. 

Freedom from the tight space came some mile and half later in the form of a gracious meadow. Exhausted, I collapsed into the lush, freshly wet grass and basked in the early morning glow. “We made it,” I whispered aloud, closing my eyes. 

“I’m sorry I let you down.” Cecelia’s voice was as soft as her breathing. “I…I should’ve reacted faster. Listened to you even…”

Her face was distorted by the sun but I could imagine her furrowed brow and disappointed expression. It was clear she had a guilty conscious but tried to stay poised as though she had a reputation to uphold. “Listen, C, we can’t change what happened. Everything…”

She abruptly interjected, “Don’t you dare say everything happens for a reason Caleb Pierce. There isn’t a reason that justifies our deaths and there certainly isn’t a valid reason for what happened back there with the veil. If it’s the last thing I do, I will reunite you with your distraught fiancée.”

What she was suggesting was insane and nearly impossible, but her confidence was contagious and I couldn’t help but smile. 

We were still in this together. Time’s attempt at destroying our bond clearly hadn’t shaken it.

   

Heard 

The parking lots are empty-

the workplace deserted.

Same holds true in my life-

a void in my heart.

But I find comfort in my loneliness,

the same those do in crowds. 

But I don’t need the deafening silence,

for I am heard through everlasting words. 

© October 2015 by Amber L Hoppa

Grieving Widow 

What was once beautiful has come and gone

the reality of the season set in stone.

There isn’t much more to say,

we couldn’t have it any other way…

The door is sealed tight-

and I must now face the world without fright.

To brave the weather is for me alone,

but I wish I could see you-

 and not a stone. 

© September 2015 by Amber L Hoppa

Writing Prompt – Attack Scene

He reached for the knife. 

Julie’s words failed to penetrate the complicated network of neuro transmitters in his brain telling him that this behavior was ok. She didn’t believe in demons and being possessed but with the angry bloodshot eyes glaring and the odd way he was hunched, her mind had a hard time resisting the idea. 

“Jaxon, please,” she pleaded desperately, tears trailing down her face. Her eyes scoured the kitchen hoping for any easily accessible form of defense. 

Jaxon lunged and Julie barely ducked out of the way in time, sliding over the island and taking the cutting board to the ground with her. A groan escaped her mouth but the adrenaline kicked in just as he pounced a second time and she flipped onto her back, using the board as shield. 

Her screaming matched Jaxson’s sadistic laughter as she struggled to break free. The pain of several jabs weakened her will and fear paralyzed her lungs, the screams suddenly catching in her throat. With each jolt of movement her body protested in bursts of agony. 

The sirens blared in the distance but Julie didn’t know if she could make it much longer. Her extremities began to feel cool and numb, her eyes heavy and withdrawn. The last image she saw before passing out were the eyes of her killer, wide with glee. Her killer had won. 

And she had lost.