WA- Talking to a Nursing Home #3

It smelled of old people.

There really isn’t any other way to describe the way a nursing home smells. Like cooked meat and sickness with an undertone of bleach. One of those smells that makes you want to turn tail and run as far away as you can. Preferably to some where not so sad.

I walked down the halls slowly, clutching my portfolio of pamphlets to my chest. The halls were the usual white with floral trimming with the occasional picture to make the place seem more like home. I cringed and sped up every time I walked past a room where some one inside called out to me, so that by the time I had reached the dining hall my feet ached.

The room was half filled with half awake senior citizens who all stared at me oddly. Brushing a stray piece of hair out of my eyes and behind my ear I walked through the doorway and to the nurse standing at the podium at the front of the room.

“Hello,” I smiled and shook her hand.

“Hello doctor,” she smiled back before turning back to the lively crowd in front of us, “All right every one lets give a warm welcome to Dr. Uma Snow; she’s going to be talking to you all about the dangers of fatty foods.”

There was a small pause before two people clapped, one grunted, and another sat with his head back drooling in his wheelchair.

I cleared my throat, “Hello every one, as you know I’m Uma Snow and I’m here to talk to you about the perils of fatty foods.”

Silence

“Well as you know, these types of foods are all around us,” I handed pamphlets from my portfolio to the nurse who proceeded to hand them out, “Potato chips, cream, butter, chocolate…”

They all looked back at me blankly. Wrinkled faces and age spots marked their ages on their skin. I hesitated for a second when a kind looking old woman in the frond row smiled up at me.

I can't tell you why but right then I thought back to my grandmother. She was really alive despite being 93. She jogged every morning and ate healthier than anyone I had ever met. My grandmother loved food, and she loved to cook. She said that it was because she was French that her cooking was so good, and everyone believed her. But she had had a heart attack and the doctors had told her that she couldn't eat things hight in sodium (salt). That's probably when she really died. She had never been the same. She stopped exercising, and cooking, and resolved to sit gloomily in her bead.

No one saw it coming; her death. She was strong till the end. The night before she went out for a jog and made dinner for our family...and ate salt. She died that very morning, but she was happy...

“I- I have to go,” I stared blankly at the people before me and I walked back out through the door and down the hall past the rooms and into the parking lot.

These people had lived for so long and put up with so much and now they lived in this terrifyingly sterile place. They didn’t deserve a PhD to tell them that they shouldn’t eat the things that still brought them some happiness.

Because the truth was I know that’s what they all knew.

WA- Talking to a Nursing Home #2

It smelled of old people.

There really isn’t any other way to describe the way a nursing home smells. Like cooked meat and sickness with an undertone of bleach. One of those smells that makes you want to turn tail and run as far away as you can. Preferably to some where not so sad.

I walked down the halls slowly, clutching my portfolio of pamphlets to my chest. The halls were the usual white with floral trimming with the occasional picture to make the place seem more like home. I cringed and sped up every time I walked past a room where some one inside called out to me, so that by the time I had reached the dining hall my feet ached.

The room was half filled with half awake senior citizens who all stared at me oddly. Brushing a stray piece of hair out of my eyes and behind my ear I walked through the doorway and to the nurse standing at the podium at the front of the room.

“Hello,” I smiled and shook her hand.

“Hello doctor,” she smiled back before turning back to the lively crowd in front of us, “All right every one lets give a warm welcome to Dr. Uma Snow; she’s going to be talking to you all about the dangers of fatty foods.”

There was a small pause before two people clapped, one grunted, and another sat with his head back drooling in his wheelchair.

I cleared my throat, “Hello every one, as you know I’m Uma Snow and I’m here to talk to you about the perils of fatty foods.”

Silence

“Well as you know, these types of foods are all around us,” I handed pamphlets from my portfolio to the nurse who proceeded to hand them out, “Potato chips, cream, butter, chocolate…”

They all looked back at me blankly. Wrinkled faces and age spots marked their ages on their skin. I hesitated for a second when a kind looking old woman in the frond row smiled up at me.

I can't tell you why but right then I thought back to my grandmother. She was really alive despite being 93. She jogged every morning and ate healthier than anyone I had ever met. My grandmother loved food, and she loved to cook. She said that it was because she was French that her cooking was so good, and everyone believed her. But she had had a heart attack and the doctors had told her that she couldn't eat things hight in sodium (salt). That's probably when she really died. She had never been the same. She stopped exercising, and cooking, and resolved to sit gloomily in her bead.

No one saw it coming; her death. She was strong till the end. The night before she went out for a jog and made dinner for our family...and ate salt. She died that very morning, but she was happy...

“I- I have to go,” I stared blankly at the people before me and I walked back out through the door and down the hall past the rooms and into the parking lot.

These people had lived for so long and put up with so much and now they lived in this terrifyingly sterile place. They didn’t deserve a PhD to tell them that they shouldn’t eat the things that still brought them some happiness.

Because the truth was I know that’s what they all knew.

WA- Talking to a Nursing Home #1

It smelled of old people.

There really isn’t any other way to describe the way a nursing home smells. Like cooked meat and sickness with an undertone of bleach. One of those smells that makes you want to turn tail and run as far away as you can to some where not so sad.

I walked down the halls slowly, clutching my portfolio of pamphlets to my chest. The halls were the usual white with floral trimming and the occasional picture to make the place seem more like home. I cringed and sped up every time I walked past a room and some one inside called out to me so that by the time I had reached the dining hall my feet ached.

The foom was half filled with half awake senior citizens all staring at me oddly. Brushing a stray piece of hair out of my eyes and behind my ear I walked through the doorway and to the nurse standing at the podium at the front of the room.

“Hello,” I smiled and shook her hand.

“Hello doctor,” she smiled back before turning back to the lively crowd in front of us, “All right every one lets give a warm welcome to Dr. Uma Snow; she’s going to be talking to you all about the dangers of fatty foods.”

There was a small pause before two people clapped, one grunted, and another sat with his head back drooling in his wheelchair.

I cleared my throat, “Hello every one, as you know I’m Uma Snow and I’m here to talk to you about the perils of fatty foods.”

Silence

“Well as you know, these types of foods are all around us,” I handed pamphlets from my portfolio to the nurse who proceeded to hand them out, “Potato chips, cream, butter, chocolate…”

They all looked back at me blankly. Wrinkled faces and age spots marked their ages on their skin. I hesitated for a second when a kind looking old woman in the frond row smiled up at me.

“I- I have to go,” I stared blankly at the people before me and I walked back out through the door and down the hall past the rooms and into the parking lot.

These people had lived for so long and put up with so much and now they lived in this terrifyingly sterile place. They didn’t deserve a PhD to tell them that they shouldn’t eat the things that still brought them some happiness.

Because the truth was I know that’s what they all knew.

WA- Picture pROMPT #3

Couples spun on the glistening marble floor like water lilies cast about in a rippling pond. Around and around eloquent dresses blossomed on beautiful masked maidens while terrifyingly handsome men kept somber skeletal faces as the music roared through the castle. It bounced off walls and swung from the chandeliers, and like a imp from hell it kept its victims entranced. Forever turning to the beat.

I glanced at the band before rushing out onto the stone terrace. The sounds and heat made my head pin around like the dancers inside till I could no longer stand it. I drew in each breath of icy air slowly in order to clear the nausea that sat in my chest. Stars above twinkled in delight as the small whips of clouds floated by the bloated moon. It was indeed a wonderful night to flee from the endless parties that seemed to plague my existence.

Flattening the front of my dress I stretched out my arms in a very unladylike display before gazing off into the endless night. The village off in the distant hills was alight with celebration; I wondered how their dance differed from our own. How they danced through the streets with such wild displays and such flighty music. I almost envied their wild lifestyle, their freedom.

Suddenly a noise shook me from my thoughts. It came upon the wind from not too far off and was barely audible above the roar of the orchestra inside. It was the clatter of hoof beats and no sooner had the noise reached my ears did the horse man arrive. He raced up the cobblestone path wearing a fiery mask that covered the eyes of the Devil. The dingy cloths that hung from his lean muscular frame revealed the identity of this strange figure. His Skinny black stead came to a halt not far from one of the back garden entrances before he leapt off it into the bushes near by. He was a peasant; a filthy street urchin come to steal from the palace’s kitchens.

I could feel my cheeks redden when I realized how intolerable this act was. He was a fox about to slink into the hen house… he was more than unwanted. But what was I to do? Surly he was much stronger than I so interfering would be out of the question. But I was young and restless then and very hot tempered. Besides my story would not be very interesting if I had not decided to go after that young man.

Quietly I hoisted myself over the stone rail of the terrace till I was balancing carefully on the thing ledge that separated me from a five foot drop to the tree below. I kicked off my shoes before taking a deep breath in preparation for what I was about to do. Luckily I had preformed this stunt this many times before so it really didn’t bother me all that much. Just one, two, three, and jump! Then a light landing in the abundantly leaved tree below.

Picking a few twigs out of my hair I stood below the tree alone in the empty night, the soft green grass was welcoming to my soar feet. Lifting up my dress slightly I moved across the lawn as quickly as I was able till I was at the plants in which the fox had disappeared into. I peered into them and noticed the small open window that lead into the castle’s cellar. It was narrow so I had to shed my extravagant dress and stood in silly brown pants and a white undershirt. Now normally women did not wear such clothing under their dresses, but I was prepared for anything.

I was ready to shimmy through the window when he appeared out in front of me, his eyes blazing like twin suns. I let out a shriek before he vanished out of site.

I never saw him again…

WA- Picture Prompt Story #2

Couples spun on the glistening marble floor like water lilies cast about in a rippling pond. Around and around eloquent dresses blossomed on beautiful masked maidens while terrifyingly handsome men kept somber skeletal faces as the music roared through the castle. It bounced off walls and swung from the chandeliers, and like a imp from hell it kept its victims entranced. Forever turning to the beat.

I glanced at the band before rushing out onto the stone terrace. The sounds and heat made my head pin around like the dancers inside till I could no longer stand it. I drew in each breath of icy air slowly in order to clear the nausea that sat in my chest. Stars above twinkled in delight as the small whips of clouds floated by the bloated moon. It was indeed a wonderful night to flee from the endless parties that seemed to plague my existence.

Flattening the front of my dress I stretched out my arms in a very unladylike display before gazing off into the endless night. The village off in the distant hills was alight with celebration; I wondered how their dance differed from our own. How they danced through the streets with such wild displays and such flighty music. I almost envied their wild lifestyle, their freedom.

Suddenly a noise shook me from my thoughts. It came upon the wind from not too far off and was barely audible above the roar of the orchestra inside. It was the clatter of hoof beats and no sooner had the noise reached my ears did the horse man arrive. He raced up the cobblestone path wearing a fiery mask that covered the eyes of the Devil. The dingy cloths that hung from his lean muscular frame revealed the identity of this strange figure. His Skinny black stead came to a halt not far from one of the back garden entrances before he leapt off it into the bushes near by. He was a peasant; a filthy street urchin come to steal from the palace’s kitchens.

I could feel my cheeks redden when I realized how intolerable this act was. He was a fox about to slink into the hen house… he was more than unwanted. But what was I to do? Surly he was much stronger than I so interfering would be out of the question. But I was young and restless then and very hot tempered. Besides my story would not be very interesting if I had not decided to go after that young man.

Quietly I hoisted myself over the stone rail of the terrace till I was balancing carefully on the thing ledge that separated me from a five foot drop to the tree below. I kicked off my shoes before taking a deep breath in preparation for what I was about to do. Luckily I had preformed this stunt this many times before so it really didn’t bother me all that much. Just one, two, three, and jump! Then a light landing in the abundantly leaved tree below.

Picking a few twigs out of my hair I stood below the tree alone in the empty night, the soft green grass was welcoming to my soar feet. Lifting up my dress slightly I moved across the lawn as quickly as I was able till I was at the plants in which the fox had disappeared into. I peered into them and noticed the small open window that lead into the castle’s cellar. It was narrow so I had to shed my extravagant dress and stood in silly brown pants and a white undershirt. Now normally women did not wear such clothing under their dresses, but I was prepared for anything.

I was ready to shimmy through the window when he appeared out in front of me, his eyes blazing like twin suns. I let out a shriek before he vanished out of site.

I never saw him again…

WA- Picture Prompt Story #1

Couples spun on the glistening marble floor like water lilies cast about in a rippling pond. Around and around eloquent dresses blossomed on beautiful masked maidens while terrifyingly handsome men kept somber skeletal faces as the music roared through the castle. It bounced off walls and swung from the chandeliers, and like a imp from hell it kept its victims entranced. Forever turning to the beat.

I glanced at the band before rushing out onto the stone terrace. The sounds and heat made my head pin around like the dancers inside till I could no longer stand it. I drew in each breath of icy air slowly in order to clear the nausea that sat in my chest. Stars above twinkled in delight as the small whips of clouds floated by the bloated moon. It was indeed a wonderful night to flee from the endless parties that seemed to plague my existence.

Flattening the front of my dress I stretched out my arms in a very unladylike display before gazing off into the endless night. The village off in the distant hills was alight with celebration; I wondered how their dance differed from our own. How they danced through the streets with such wild displays and such flighty music. I almost envied their wild lifestyle, their freedom.

Suddenly a noise shook me from my thoughts. It came upon the wind from not too far off and was barely audible above the roar of the orchestra inside. It was the clatter of hoof beats and no sooner had the noise reached my ears did the horse man arrive. He raced up the cobblestone path on a lanky black steed his fiery mask with eyes like the Devil’s. The dingy cloths that hung from his lean muscular frame revealed the identity of this strange figure. He was a peasant; a filthy street urchin come to steal from the palace’s kitchens.

I could feel my cheeks redden when I realized how intolerable this act was. He was a fox about to slink into the hen house… he was more than unwanted.

WA- fantasy story #1

Once upon a time- as fairly all tails seem to start- there was a brother and a sister. The older one was a young boy named Thomas, who was neither too smart nor too dull. Thomas was the apple of his sister’s eyes and seemed to be loved by almost everyone. Then there was his little sister Julia. Julia, unlike her brother, did not seem to be too smart nor was she loved by everyone; in fact she was ignored.

Thomas and Julia lived in a small apartment with their stepmother and father. They weren’t a rich family, but they got by. This however wasn’t good enough for their stepmother; she wanted jewelry and fancy parties. One night, when Julia and Thomas were in their beds, the wicked woman confronted the siblings’ father.

“They cost so much to bring up,” She whined. “What if we just left them some where? Like the park. They would be fine- I’m sure someone would happily bring them up as their own.” Their father, who was under the slight influence of certain liquids, let out a grunt and scratched his head.

“Please honey-poo,” she begged and grasped his hand. He let out another grunt and the stepmother squealed with delight, apparently taking the noise as a ‘yes’. “I love you sweetie!”

Maybe, if she had known that the boy Thomas was awake and listening to every word that had been said, she may have been quieter.

Placing the blanket carefully on the park-green grass, the stepmother, Julia, and Thomas sat down. Thomas looked around, carefully taking in all that he saw. This was a part of the park he had never been to before; it was farther from where most people sat and on the edge of a small bit of lush forest.

“Ducklings?” Their stepmother smiled handing Julia two sandwiches, “I’m not too hungry right now. Howze about the two of you go play. But don’t be too long.” The two of them looked at each other. “What’s wrong? Go on now, off with you.”

Thomas grasped Julia’s hand and led her into the woods, “Thomas?” Julia asked, coming to a stop once they were out of sight of the picnic basket and the person sitting beside it.

Thomas looked around them, “She wanted to leave us.” He laughed uncomfortably, “Just leave us in the park and hope someone would pick us up. But we’ll show her. All we need to do is just get through this forest, then we’ll be away from them both.”

“But what about father?”

“Father?”, Thomas’ grip tightened, “Father didn’t stand up for us. He agreed with her! He wants us gone, Julia!” He instantly felt bad about the tone he had spoken to his sister in. Thomas began to walk again pulling her along.

Soon the light began to fade in the forest and the air began to cool. There seemed an awful lot of forest for such a small area. The ivy in the forest quivered as a breeze rushed on through. Thomas angrily stared at the leaf littered trail before him as Julia lagged behind. The sun set before he finally stopped walking. Smiling, he told his sister to eat her sandwich (which she happily nibbled on) as he went off to find fire-wood. He soon came back, a broad smile across his face, “Julia you wouldn’t believe what I found.”

It was a small house. But not just any small house; this one was made of candy and sweet cakes. Thomas felt proud as his younger sister stared in awe at this unbelievable marvel. She suddenly let out a shriek and grasped her brother’s arm.

“What is it Julia?” He inquired.

“It’s the witch’s house brother! The witch that tried to eat Hansel and Gretel; she lives here.”

Thomas laughed, “Even if this was her house she was pushed into an oven, right?” Julia nodded slowly.” Now come on, sister, let’s get something sweet to eat.” They had happily grabbed several chucks off the house, before they heard a scratching. Both of them paused and looked at each other nervously.

“Where is that coming from?” Thomas bravely began to follow the noise while Julia followed close behind. They finally came up to what appeared to be a large oven, overgrown with assortments of ivy and other shrubs. Only curiosity made Thomas open the door to that stove.