SHORT STORY: AwAkEn (Limited)

It was a faint touch on the shoulder that stirred her from sleep. The sun crept across the window, but she wasn’t conscious of it in the least. The second touch was on her elbow, then on her ankle, then an aggressive tap on the brow. This rouse her from sleep abruptly.

She sat up quickly from the shock, realizing that no one was in the house she slept soundly in for the past several hours. Her breathing quickened and she searched around her bedroom, but there was no one.

DREAMSCAPE: YOU ONLY VISIT ME IN MY DREAMS NOW (Short Story)

Strange, I became accustomed to dreams of you pleasuring yourself with other women. Some of their faces blurred, others were women that we knew. Genie of my dreams, you are my reality and within my reality you are pristine. I could not understand why my subconscious missunderstood you to being unfaithful.

Now you only visit me in my dreams. In reality, you started a fire in me and now it is too much, you want to back out. In this dream I had a few hours ago, the reality was different. You came to me in my dreams. You entered into my home while I slept soundly in my bed. I was nude under the covers, but you only watched me. Then I stirred and you came into my view. Genie, I was elated to see you and you came into the bed with me and we rolled around in my giant bed together. We laughed and smiled at each other. The sunbeams glowed around you and the moon reflected from your eyes. I caressed your face, my fingers drizzled over your beard. I kissed and held you tighter. You mde me feel in this dream that there is hope in us. I looked up at you as you stood at the edge of the bed, Genie. You stood radiant, more brilliant than ever and I cried.

I woke, being both in awe and saddened because In being a wake, I realize that I have lost you. Possibly forever. You will never remember the good times we did share.

Thank you for reading about my dream I had just this afternoon.

This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her April 2020 (C)

DREAMSCAPES: HEXED BY THE PAST (Short Story, Nightmare)

No matter how far into the future you run, you cannot escape your past. All that talk about leaving behind the past and starting anew makes no difference to the past, especially if the pasts still remembers you. Especially if the past is fucked up, alive and has vengence in its heart. Its coming for you.

This dream, actually, this nightmare begins in a two-story home. The home I llived in as a child. It was dark and dismal, natural since nothing really good happened in that house. It was a place of living nightmares at times. From time to time I can actually recall a memory that was light and lifted.. Often if I “dream” about this house it is often a nightmare. This time was as no other.

So, I kinda left my ex and his family behind some years back. Let us just say that I was very close to his mother and sister, and as time went by and I separated from their son and brother, our relationship was broken as well.

In this nightmare, my ex’s sister was performing a damning ritual against me. She was in my childhood home, willing malice into being and preparing it to seek me out. As she mixed a concoction on rats blood, petrified wood shavings, baby’s breath, a sizable portion of my kinky hair and castor oil to bind, she hummed a tune to herself. In this nightmare, I hovered in my astral body while she invoked this spell upon me. I was terrified, but at the same time understanding. Probably part of my guilt. As she mixed and ground the spells contents with her mortar and pestle, I felt myself let go of the guilt I felt from those past entanglements. For some reason, at first I thought the spell was to hex me, damn me for eternity, but instead it was one that freed me, healed me and sent me on my way to make a better future for myself in relationships that I have presently and for the future.

We remember dreams for a reason.

Thank you for reading about my dream I had this afternoon. I figure my dreams or nightmares make light to things I probably don’t want to reconcile within myself. I remember in order to bring light to some things I need to grow out of and consciously face.

This original blog post and short story was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her. April 2020 (C)

SHORT STORY: Trouble Travels Down De Road

Ivy came out of her house and exclaimed, “dis day so hot and steamy!” Then, she sighed and faking a faint, she set her sights on the open road. She thought to herself, no child in the neighborhood would dare run on this burning road without slippers today. It was late in the afternoon on the island of St. Croix and unless you were sitting near the beach or waterfronts on either side of this tropical island, you would not feel a breeze bless your cheek nor forehead right now. Even the candy lady, Ms. Bernadette, down the road ran out of lemonade as well as soursop ice-pop! With even the slightest of movement, beads of sweat would rise upon the thinnest skin in places to give pause…

Here comes Big Marjorie, walking down the road with her large brown purse, silver hoop earrings and can be seen from a distance with her colorful display. Her updo and waterfall curls with her bangs were swooped to the side. As she marched downhill, all of her extended belly and curves bouncing as she hasten her steps. Ivy met Ms. Mary on the porch of her house. With a scowl on her face, Ivy said, “Whey she tink she goin’?” As Marjorie came closer with footfalls as heavy as a mighty juggernaut, you can see her pink and yellow “Sunday’s Best” dress shuffling in the breeze…

Ivy couldn’t help herself, she said to Ms. Mary, “Buh wait, whey da breeze come from?” Swiftly, Marjorie passed the neighbor’s houses on both sides of the road.

Again, Ivy blurted out to Ms. Mary, “Meson, she lucky no minibus was passin’ ‘cause she tek up the hole road like ah float in ah parade! She woulda geh bounce down foh sure. Marjorie ain geh no sign on she sayin’ ‘butt meh down please’!?!” Ivy laughed loud and hard. Ms. Mary only look at Ivy over her bifocal glasses, nodding her head.

Marjorie continued on her way to her destination, a big bright smile on her face, her lips were cherry red. In truth, Ivy nor Ms. Mary could guess what was the final destination of Marjorie this summery evening. They sat on the porch most days to “pung melee” or gossip about their neighbors around them. They would mostly make up tales from heresy or create their own curry to the mix. This evening it was to make up a story behind the mood of Big Marjorie.

“Well, she look well swell in she dress, mama. Maybe someting goin’ on down de road we don’ kno’ ‘bout?” Ms. Mary began. “Maybe we ain heh ‘bout it?” She offered to Ivy. Instantly, Ivy frowned. She was still wearing her sleep bonnet on her head, she frowned hard with her cigarette butt hanging in the right corner of her mouth. Then her lips pursed hard now as she took another puff from the ciggie. Ivy’s chestnut eyes turned dark and narrowed, then she cusssed. “Deh bettah not be havin’ no party I wasn’t invited toh, cause I neeeeeeeeeeeed toh be dey. How she more importan’ dan meh!”

Like a cyclone, Ivy whisked her way into her room for 10 minutes. There was all sorts of sounds that come from it, such sounds a small storm would make. When she emerged, she was wearing her long red thin strapped sundress, hugging her slim figure. The bonnet hid her thick and long brown, sun-touched locks. Those locks now drizzled down her shoulders and back. On her narrow feet, her gold sandals shone as though they were from mount Olympus and her smile, though her teeth slightly yellowed from her constantly smoking, were straight…her lips painted with bronze.

“Aye-Aye,” Ms. Mary croaked. “Yoh ain geh meh ah chance toh come out.” So she ran in her own house as quick as a mongoose and sprint back 3 minutes flat with a short pixie-cut wig and an eggshell colored daring pants suit. “I ready!” She bellowed out. So now, both ladies hurried down the road wondering who was having fete without them. They both were vex but excited to see who is going to want to dance with them. In their own minds, they fantasized about who else will be there. If they will have cruzan rum or Hennessy to drink with they coke? They even wondered who they will cuss and fuss at for not inviting them. Ivy let out under her breath, “is ah dam shame!” Then, her mimic, Ms. Mary squeeze out through her missing teeth, “Issa dam shame, foh true!”

They both hot on the pursuit of Big Marjorie and this party…but lost Big Marjorie’s trail. Then, they both found themselves standing in the middle of a cluster of several homes. Ivy looked at Mary, Mary looked right back at Ivy…there was no way for them to figure out which house Marjorie duck in and out of sight! This made Ivy’s face turn red with embarrassment. “She gave us deh slip!” They then walked by all the houses in the area listening for music, not a jam in earshot!

Both ladies were vex, roaming along the road, sneaking from house to house…eventually, they quietly moved through the now dark street and came upon a small white house. It was so tiny, but there was faint soca rhythm sounds filtering through the air. They followed and got up really close to the house to listen. The soca music grew louder the closer they came to the front porch. Ivy started excitedly swinging her hips already in anticipation, Ms. Mary started to get on bad, throwing her hips and wide bottom in a swaying motion. “Dis is it!” They both thought. They were working up their waists, following the music and advancing up the white steps onto the porch. The door was unlocked, so they both swing on through, their eyes tightly closed and faces in passionate expressions while they worked up and danced. They came in the house bawling, “PARTY!” and then opened their eyes to now find Big Marjorie naked in the living room on top of a very old and skinny gentleman. “Oh shit!” Ivy and Ms. Mary bawl out in unison.

Thank you for reading this short story. It was inspired from my upbringing in the Virgin Islands and my Caribbean background. I wanted to share a bit of our dialect with the world. Please leave comments and constructive criticism or critiques.

This original blog post and short story was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her. April 2020(C)

SHORT STORY: TWO HATS AND A BALDHEAD

The air conditioning was turned on high in the blue 2019 Nissan Camary as they were flying down the highway. On the radio Mercy Chinwo’s Jesus Loves Me Too Much played to the loudest setting for the volume. All three women, mumbled portions of the song as they were on their journey. Their heads were bobbing to the beat of the song, preparing themselves for the event at the Janis Jesuit Witness of The Bush Burn Episcopalian Church somewhere in Georgia where they would attend a women’s luncheon. Two of the elderly ladies wore hats, and the third was bald headed. The lady that drove the car was hitting the highway at 75 miles per hour all the way, whether the highway signs advised her or not. They wanted to make it before most guests and even more prompt than the pastor. Her heavy foot on the gas had the other ladies clinging to whatever they can in the vehicle to grip themselves for this adventure.

Understanding that they were leaving from Columbia, the capital of South Carolina, to the unknown areas of wherever this church was that they was seeking, they needed to have someone who wasn’t afraid to break the law behind the wheel. Mildred Wainwright Hubble, the driver, couldn’t turn her head this way or that since she wore a church hat that was wide on all sides. It was egg-shell colored with one pastel green sash around the head portion and lace covered it. Truthfully, if it wasn’t for that sash or lace, it would resemble the likes of a sombrero. She used the side view and rare view mirrors every now and again to switch lanes. Her stocking covered feet, overlapped her tight fitted sandals, her fat feet mashing the gas and breaks when needed. She drove as though she was blowing like the wind down I-20. In the passenger seat, sat Michaela Turner, with her head in a low fade and lips pursed into a frown. She never liked hats and took pride in keeping her head as bald as possible since her 40’s after she was told she had a head for it. Katrina Manard Mahalia Jones sat in the back seat, behind Mildred. Katrina’s hat was handmade and she took pride in her hair-hat wearing as much as possible. With every hat she made, a wig was attached to it. Today’s hat had a short bob wig under a small brimmed hat the color of sage green, with a blue sash and a single pink flower.

In the distance, sirens was bellowing. The music was at top pitch and the women was more concerned with arriving early that neither of them noticed the trouble brewing in the rare of the car. In a flash, Mildred caught the lights of the police car in the rare view mirror a mile away and put both fat feet on the brakes! The car screeched for a few feet before it stopped. The cop clocked them a few miles back, but neither of them saw. Too busy bobbing their heads and the music as well as the dastardly driving was distracting. Mildred cussed loudly. As soon as they came to a stop, Mildred told Michaela to take the wheel and say she was driving. Michaela was the oldest…Mildred thought they could play on the sympathy of the officer. Then Mildred scrambled to the back seat to escape and deceive the police officer. Katrina just watched in amazement when the women switched seats. Their seemingly elderly demeanor movements went away and Mildred’s quick jack rabbit jump into the back seat happened in a blink. Michaela on the other hand, struggled to get into the drivers seat. Her slip for her decked out two piece skirt jacket suit almost got caught in the gears while she threw her legs over in the drivers seat to save her friend. Unfortunately, she knew that throughout the years, Mildred has incurred a few speeding tickets and most were unpaid.

The police officer finally came to a halt behind the 2019 Nissan. He wore his classic cop shades, salt and pepper mustache and hat as he strolled up to the ladies vehicle. Michaela rolled down the window, grinning, hoping her winning smile will soften the officer’s heart. She paid for all those teeth.

The officer said, “Good day, ladies.” He looked at each one of them, a frown worn on his lips. Katrina was seemingly nervous. “Ma’am, do you know how fast you were driving?”

Michaela quickly blurted out, “Officeeeeeeeerrrr…we are on the way to a grand event at a church in Georgia. We are trying to get there. I wear glasses, as you can see. I relied on pure faith, not sight.” Her teeth like large chiclets as she grinned away the deception. Katrina in the back seat behind her, just erupted and broke wind from her nervousness. It was loud and stinky, but Michaela maintained eye contact with the officer.

“Ma’am, you were driving at 91 miles per hour in a 70 miles per hour zone!” The officer announced, “That is way over the limit that is allowed and is considered reckless driving.”

“Jesus take the wheel,” Michaela blurted out, feigning faint and clutching invisible pearls at her short neck. “I swear, I had not noticed the speed zone. Is there a solution to this? We were moving with divine purpose, you see officer.”

“Lady, I don’t think Jesus could help you out this situation, but I’m a god fearing man myself. I can pray for your safe passage…after I write you up this here ticket…It will take me a few minutes, though. I can see y’all was in a rush. Y’all could pray until I come back. Where’s your driver’s license and insurance for the car, ma’am?”

All Michaela did was drop her jaw, she couldn’t protest. Mildred put her head down the entire time, not uttering a word, while Katrina was passing gas loudly in the back, excusing herself after each one. The stench rose and muffled them in the car. Michaela quietly rolled down all the windows.

After the officer left them a ticket that all three women would have to put in to pay for, Mildred then told the two ladies she would take to the wheel once again for the remainder of the trip. Michaela said, “No! Nope, now this is on my record, we may not have any more blessings between here and our destination to deal with your hot foot!” She pouted.

Mildred shouted from the back seat, “well, let me at least sit in the passenger seat! Geez and bread! Don’t lecture me now. We almost the same age!”

FROM THE AUTHOR: Just practicing my creative writing. An attempt at humor. My niece and I were taking a trip to Augusta GA when we saw some ladies with two hats and a baldhead and she inspired the name for a story. A close friend of mine provided some plots on the adventure. Please use the comments section to give your thoughts and criticisms on this short story. I write on different genres and haven’t found my niche, yet. Thank you for reading!

SHORT STORY: POUR MY HEART

This was their first valentine’s together and Laurie was careful in choosing every item with precise detail. “Everything in love,” she repeated to herself as she went about purchasing balloons, cupcakes, chocolates and even a jar to put sweet messages to honor him. When she arrived home, Laurie was so ecstatic while putting all the items together and carefully writing a letter to him so that he knows why she invented the “Pour My Heart” jar.

Before he left for work that morning, she quickly slipped into his vehicle to create the display of items. In the passenger seat of the car she put the cupcakes, gift bag with chocolates and all five of the helium balloons. The balloons were an assortment of stars, hearts and one balloon that said “You are Special”. He always let her know as long as they were together that he was not into celebrating holidays, but she wants him to always know that he is loved. One more thing to make the display complete, the “Pour My Heart” jar! She forgot it in the house!

Her love is in the shower when she races into the bedroom and into their walk-in closet to retrieve the jar. As she slipped out the room while he was in the bathroom and she closed the door quietly behind her. Finally, she got to the car and laid the jar on the seat, in front of the cupcakes. Laurie stood back to admire the display on his passenger seat. Then, there was the ringing of a phone somewhere within the car, nearby. She was stunned because her boyfriend’s phone is always on his nightstand near his side of the bed whenever he is in the house. Where was the ringing coming from? She looked around the front seat as well as the passenger seat of the car and could not find a phone. The ringing stopped momentarily, but then started again frantically. She looked in the back seat, then stopped again to listen carefully as to the location where the ringing possibly came from. Laurie checked the compartment between the front seats, nothing. Then she looked in the glove compartment and heard the ringing intensify. There was papers and other objects in there, even a gun. She had not known about a gun that he owned, though suspicious, she did not touch it. While digging around in the compartment she found a pregnancy test and dropped it instantly…when realizing what it was. The phone started to ring again, and this time she saw it. It was a flip phone, black and it flashed furiously as it rang. It felt like five minutes or more before she picked it up, then put it to her ear to listen.

The person on the other line spoke first. It was a woman’s sultry voice that whispered from the phone.

“Greg, I’m so glad I got you. Happy Valentine’s, baby!”

FROM THE AUTHOR: Just practicing my creative writing. Please use the comments section to give your thoughts, criticisms on this short story. I write on different genres and haven’t found my niche, yet. Thank you for reading!

SHORT STORY: NOCTURNA TOUCH

The mundane ringing of the door alerted the store keeper, Travis, to the presence of another customer. It has been a long day, with few curious folks entering and exiting without purchases. Perhaps he may be lucky this time, so he perked up and offered salutations to them.

“Hi there, look around and let me know if you need assistance,” he uttered the same script as he did for anyone that crossed that threshold. At first he thought it was genuine, but time has made it habit.

“Okay,” they would usually reply. This time there was no response, just a nod of the head from a woman with wide almond eyes, heart-shaped face and black bangs with a ponytail. She had not looked at him, just nodded while she looked at the first product near the door. This made him curious, because it was the dildo section. It would be a lot to say that this was not the type of store most women would come to alone to peruse through sex toys and novelties. In his experience, most women would come with a man or other femailes. It wasn’t always the case. He looked from his booth, follwing her with his questioning eyes. Something about her…her stark ivory colored skin, in contrast to her obsidian hued hair brightedned up the room even in the dull lighting. The features of her face he analyzed, starting with her cheekbones, high and youthful. She carried herself in a way whereas she seemed older…but he was not sure. Observing her clothing, he noticed she wore all black, even her stockings, black fishnets. Finally she made her way to him after looking at the bedroom candies and handcuffs.

“So, what do you think,” this Aphrodite spoke to him for the first time. The lilt in her words offered that she may be foreign.

Travis mouth was caught open for a bit, being that he was taken by surprise and roused from his thoughts of her as she turned her attention on him. Unknowingly, she was the best thing he saw all day, probably all week at this business. Even as he closed his mouth, he had no words for her in that moment. Before he could blink, she was in the booth with him. She closed the door and now she was in his world walking toward him before he could think to refuse. To his surprise, she held his face before he could protest or even react, and kissed him so deeply, that every hair on his body rose electtrified around him. It scared him a little at first and then he became compliant, soft limbs except for one. His pants bulged and she welcomed him into both her hands, caressing. Taking in his hurried breaths, then low moans, he even almost closed his eyes because the escatasy was all encompassing. At this point he wanted to know more of these emotions, this higher vibe provided in her delicate hands, stroking and cuddling. Before he knew it, she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants through her power. Her will be done, the obsidian haired maven, alluringly licked the palm of her hand and massaged him as he was ripe and extended. Travis gasped then sighed as he felt the wetness against him. That feeling was everything and his head felt as though it was going to pop. The only thing that kept bringing him back to awareness was that he remembered that anyone can just walk in at any moment. That thought made him more eager, anticipating the next sensation, the waves of delight was out of this reality. While he knocked his head back as the electricity coursed through his back from her hand job, he gave into her wildness. In a swift movement, she was on her kneess and he looked down at her charcoal hair in that high ponytail and she grinned up at him at first, then burried her head in his lap.

“Why,” he spoke softly, “It…” He couldn’t finish his words only fell off a cliff as she performed this art. He closed his eyes and she sucked and wet his tender head, so he thrusted his hips as a response. The lights behind his eyes, they flickered and danced while he slipped into this mist she took him into. Instantly he thought of holding her ponytail to get a better hold of her pacing. Just as he thought so, he found that his hands made the movements as quick as his thoughts.

SHORT STORY: SOMETHING ANCIENT

FROM THE AUTHOR: This is a true story, one of my own haunting experience. Practicing my creative writing skills. I have been writing for almost as long as I have been alive, and since I first learned to write a proper paragraph in elementary school. This I create today, comes from my reality but an alternate reality for some. Thank you for reading!

“Come, put on your nightgown. You should never be naked when you sleep.” Mammy whispered while she dressed me and tucked me under my favorite blanket. I never slept without my favorite blanket or pillow. Without my shield and dagger, which those items represented to me as such, I could not fight of the visitors.

“God don’t like nudity,” My mother whispered again, “It should be shame that is felt when you gaze upon your own body, stay covered.” She gently tucked me under the blanket and patted my tummy. “Let us say the lord’s prayer and then Psalm 23.” We both recited the lord’s prayer, chanting it in unison, my voice a pitch higher than her own. While we chanted to the Christian God, I was also saying another prayer in my mind to that same God. Please God, don’t make me be touched and talked to by anything while the night rose. Please keep me safe from harm. I squeezed my eyes tight until tears welled up in the corners of my little child’s eyes, but mammy had not seen the tears. I hid all my horrors, all by myself without anyone to help me, but God.

“Alright, when two or more are gathered, God hears our prayer.” Mammy believed that whole heartedly. I tried to believe it too, my childlike understanding still wished for good and fairytale like adventures, but the night rose to some things that were more…sinister. My mother got up from my bedside, approached my room door. Opened and closed the door behind her and I focused as much as I could on her footsteps leaving me behind, walkine down the hall to her own bedroom. I sighed, very loudly. Not because I was relieved or secure, but because I had to fight again.

Sleep came to creep up on me before I can brace myself for anything else. My mind was set on the task that will surely come, but my body was tired from all the games and playing I did all day. The night was different. Why must I be afraid of the night. What I have learned of night has made me afaid of it. Terrified, really. The window brought light in my room, a steady illumination. It should have been comforting, unfortunately, it was not. As sleep took me and I dreamt away, A lowly black mass began to collect itself near the wall beside my bed. Slowly accumulating, and as it did so the sound that came from this mass was of flesh tearing. Pushing itself forward from whereever it emerged, It began to form a head of the carcus of a bull and it wore the dark sludge that was it’s body as though it was a dress. The darkness of its sludge was darker than the darkest corner in the room, where light could not reach. This entity bore no human attributes, nothing about the thing was of this earth or reality. Mammy would call it a Jumbie. In caribbean culture a Jumbie is a monster or mischieveous spirit. It did not come from a dead person like ghosts. It is believed that jumbies can harm you.

While the Jumbie came to visit for a while, I slept undisturbed. After this horn adorned mass completed its materialization in this plane, it watched me as I slept. Though it had no eyes in that bull skull, it concentrated with intensity, on my small body under my shield, my blanket. To my horror, it was still there when I finally opened my eyes at the dead of night to look upon it. I was startled by this being, but have come accustomed to strange entities visiting me during the night. At first, I could not take my eyes off of it…this bull skull, which with its dark mass below it, seemed like it was floating on its own. In my life, at that time, I have never seen anything that I could describe was like it. I was so shaken with bewilderment, I threw my blanket over my head hoping that it would deter this thing from coming towards me. Perhaps it would leave, because my blanket shield would keep it at bay and it would vanish back to wherever it came. Out aloud, I chanted my secret prayer, over and over again. God would come protect me, that was the idea. How much more protection would I need to be free from this curse!

It still haunts me today. I am still here to tell the story.

Nightmare: Viscious And Woke

Most of my life, I have been plagued with nightmares. Sometimes daily. This “nightmare” I just woke from an hour ago, but I still feel as though it is not done with me. The fear is so real that even now as I write these bothersome things to the internet, just to rid my mind. So come bare the load for me. I need to take it out of my consciousness and provide someone, at this point anyone that may care, the dark and dreaded corner of my subsciousness that haunts me in wake and sleep.

At first it was a struggle to sleep, since my mind was busy with failure and heartache. I wanted to sleep my worries away, sometimes my dreams can be a more than pleasant reasoning away for the “wake” reality that I step into, sometimes endless. Instead, I chanted a meditation spell and envisioned painting a sun with acrylic paint colors of orange, red, white and yellow. Strangely, I must have finally drifted…because I found myself abruptly waken to darkness. Delivered to the darkness of the room, I groggily sat up in bed and made motions to get out of the bed. The darkness was still there, but it was a dark, dark blue darkness staring back at me. It had no eyes, but it stared right through me as a sat at the edge of my bed. I sat frozen, paralyzed in fear when I realized I wasn’t actually in my room. It was another room, one from my childhood, but the bed I slept in was still the twin sized bed I sleep in every night. And that is when I realized…I’m dreaming…or nightmaring? The dark, dark blue darkness with no eyes, hands or feet, was at the bedroom door, perpendicular to where I now stood in the opposite end of the room. I was terrified. I was so mortified that I held my own throat with both hands, because I couldn’t scream as the dark, dark blue darkness came hurtling at me. Instinctively, I still gripped my throat. “What’s the matter voice, have I lost you.” I heard. It wasn’t from the thing that rushed me, it was from around me. Someone wanted to shut me up. No time for thoughts, because this time, the dark, dark blue was up in my face inspecting me with no eyes and this time I could see it for what it was up close. A monster.

Then, I woke up again. Startled by the nightmare I just had, I jolted awake. My god, that was terrifying and I thought I couldn’t, wouldn’t get out. So, I shook it off, but before I got to sit up in the bed of my dark room, in the dim light of my computer screen was a white egg the size of the Walmart variety egg in the dairy section. The egg was right where my tummy was as I laid on the left side of my body. I only lifted my head from my pillow to look at it in the dimly lit room. I looked around and I was still in my room where I slept. Curious, I propped myself up, still lying on my side to look at this thing that I was sure was not there when I fell asleep. I wouldn’t have an egg in the bed with me. It could break…I reached for the egg to feel it, gingerly. The egg was very white, even in the dark glow of the computer in the room. This is when the realization came that I was in a dream again. Waking from one nightmare into another illusion of my mind. While I held the egg, unconsciously I used the force of my fingers to crush the egg in that one hand and my hand was cut by all the pieces of the eggs shell…though the egg was hard boiled!

Another jolt, sitting up in the bed this time, with my heart racing and my eyes moving to all corners of the room. Still the dark glow of the computer screen. The computer screen had a picture of my sisters and myself, all staring back at me. Stories in their eyes. I caught my breath, comforting myself, which was self taught. I wondered about the dream, what was that about? I got up to go use the bathroom. Looking in the mirror only for a second before I plopped down on the toilet to pee. The relief of the streaming of these life fluids soothed me further. Once complete, wiping myself to then turn to the sink to wash my hands. No soap. Damn. I looked up to see myself in the mirror. To my surprise, there was nothing. No image at all. Just water running from the sink, hot and steaming the bottom portion of the mirror. At first I was so stunned I just stood there… I could feel my eyes widening but couldn’t see them for proof that they were probably bulging in disbelief! My consciousness began to fabricate reasoning at this point, as I panicked. No image in the mirror, oh shit! Outside of my head, at this point, I began palming the mirror, then scraping the mirror with my nails and fingers. Trying to tear through the irrationality that I was not there…I was not there at all. Then, in my panic and horror I started to beat upon the mirror. Pounding on it, but it had not broken, just bending like mirror and plexiglass hybrid. Then, something emerged. Something crawled from the corner of the mirror before me. It was something…something I have never seen in my life, but it was the cross of a slug larvae and spider so massive as though it was almost half my body. Black purple skin and the larvae parts had something withering under its skin. I screamed and sat down on the floor by the sink, out of the view of the mirror. I was shaking and frightened hoping it had not seen that I saw it was coming…oh god. For moments it seemed, I just sat and waited, sat and waited for an eternity. At this point, nothing rushed me or attacked. I got on my knees in front of the sink and peered up at the mirror. The creature was halfway through the mirror…it seemed to be coming from another dimension, a frightening scene as it slowly pushed its way through to my side of the world. It’s spider’s appendages, the pedipalps, were eagerly reaching for me and I fell back on my bottom, then quickly leapt to my feet. My body was up against the bathroom door and as soon as I had an opportunity, I grabed for the door knob, flung the door open and ran, but not before I felt a deep, sharp and painful slice across my back!

Awaken again…this time no jolt, just clear pain. Pain in my heart like the beating of my heart was a ticking bomb. Awaken to pain. Pain in the chest. Before I could open my eyes, I felt my chest. I could not feel my breasts. They were numb…that scared me awake. My eyes fluttered open in deep protest of my body. My mind left me tired even from sleep. What could ease my mind from the horrors? The horrors in sleep and in this reality? This time it was realtime, where you and me are on opposite ends of this computer screen. Me writing, you reading. Hoping you can understand why I needed to share this with you.

Disclaimer: This nightmare crawled out my ear and onto this post by my own doing. All photography and original art for this post was created or captured by Hetheru Mer Djehuty.

This is an original and was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her.

Short Story: Black Hearts Depart

Within the last dark hours before departure, Melvin Vantamore stared through the large living room window reminiscing about the events of the night before. In the background the wall clock kept it’s ticks and tock to a minimum, but the crackling of the logs in the fireplace would often snap Melvin out of his dream state. As he stared at nothing in particular outside, he questioned everything that happened between himself and Natalia. She said that this was the last time they were to see each other in secret. Hearing her repeat this sentence in his mind made him light headed. He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes slowly. Breathing in and out deliberately to calm and soothe himself.

Melvin played out the first time he met Natalia in his head. His eyes traced over every aspect of her physique, noting the way she moved her hands when she talked, observing her nose crinkled while she laughed at his dark humor. He couldn’t recall anyone that fond of him. Usually, he was not very social to approach someone, especially a woman, to engage in casual banter. For some reason, Natalia was very alluring. He hair in one swoop of a ponytail. Every now and again, her hair would sometimes fall near her almond shaped eyes, laden with a deep black mascara. During their engagements, after a while, he would find himself just listening to her speak so that he could take in all of her beauty. Her cheekbones high and soft, the fingers slender with the tips of her fingers manicured and nails clipped low. Her teeth were so white and straight, he would then follow the corners of her lips as they curled into a smile. Everything was breathtaking and pleased his senses as he stood at attention to all of her words she spoke. But some things bothered him.

The crackling in the fireplace snapped him out of the memory. He moved from the window. It was dark in the house that he lived in with his wife and two children. They have been gone for some time now. Their photos still on the mantle above the fireplace. He would glance at the photos every now and again. They were so far gone now, he would not be able to reach them. Melvin made his way into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to see if he can nibble on something, but his stomach was so weak. Instead he just sat at the dining room table, pulling at his nail cuticles until they bled.

The dining room was ghastly silent, as he sat there susceptible to the darkness of his own mind and went into memories of Natalia again. He was obsessed with her energy and wanted to be in her presense again, but the darkness kept reminding him of yesterday’s events. First, there was the phone call in the morning. She told Melvin that there was something they needed to discuss and she wanted to be certain that they were still meeting at the café. He obliged her request, wanting to know where she has been for the past week since he had not heard from her for some time. Insanity set in after three days of no phone calls, texts in response to him. On the fourth day, he sent a text to her as his desparate moment to get through to her. The text read, “Please, I need to hear from you. I don’t know what to do without you.” After three hours, he texted her again. “I’m looking at a bottle of pills right now, wondering if I should empty its contents in my body.” Instantly, Natalia replied. ” Please, please don’t do anything to hurt yourself.” He smirked a little.

He got up from the dining table now, to stand and walk towards the living room and walked up the stairs. She was not coming. He remembered stroking her throat and staring in her eyes as they pleaded silently. No words could escape her as Melvin tightened his grip. “You will never leave me…” He managed to say through his teeth, “Do you understand, Nat”. In a gasp, she managed to say yes. Her eyes were wide with fear and tears rolled down her face, he beautiful face that he cherished when he first saw her. He let go of her, abruptly, and watched as she stabilized herself after the assault. She was on her knees on the living room floor, gasping and crying. He stood there for which felt like an eternity, no emotion on his face. “Nat, you are breaking my heart. Stop breaking my heart!” Defeated, Natalia used the coffee table to bring herself to stand before him. She said nothing as she held her own throat and wiped her tears.

Melvin found himself in the master bedroom of his three bedroom house. He made love to her in here. It was the most beautiful thing he has ever done, he thought. Natalia’s moans and gasps of pleasure reverberated in his mind. He wanted to live in that moment again. Her hair falling over her breasts and she rode him. He would reach up and hold her waist and breasts. He would climb on top of her and make her climax over and over again. She would orgasm under him and he would stare at her pleasure, then he would bury his head between her neck to suck and kiss that slender neck of hers. He now found himself standing in this empty cold room. He walked around to the left side of the bed to open the safe that held important things. His passport, birth certificate his nine millimeter and the box of ammo when it was necessary. After this long day, haunted by the insanity that she had left him, he reached in to grab the gun and bullets.

Disclaimer: This short story came as an inspiration of the poem I just submitted. All photography and original art for this post was created or captured by Hetheru Mer Djehuty. Thank you so much for your support. Please feel free to like, comment, criticize, make suggestions or say “hi”.

This is an original story was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her.