New Post & Excuses!

Hey Guys and Girls,

Im sorry I haven't posted in a couple of months but I've been going through. School has really been hectic. I have some new pieces that I plan on putting up here for everyone to see this winter, when I finally get a free moment to myself. A lot of new stories! I really want to finish editing Unspoken as well as Weeds. There is so much potential there to just let it all sit idle. The problem with Unspoken is that my computer crashed so aside from the sensory exercise that I posted her, my story is gone! I'm glad I made a hard copy of it though. Now I have to transcribe it back to my computer. Ughhh! But bear with me on that! I hope everyone is enjoying their holiday season! Thanks for reading!

Alysha

Weeds

The beeping from the heart monitor slowly brought Allison back to consciousness. The sterile smell always reminded her of where she was and why. The white walls suddenly made her feel clean and free from the foulness of the world. From the foulness of the disease that was seemingly destroying her. She felt weary. Her body was starting to shut down. Her eyes were heavy and dry. It almost became painful to move them. She looked over and saw Jackie there. She never left Allison’s side. Jackie had the blanket draped over her body and her feet hung over the chair; she was visibly uncomfortable. Allison wasn’t expected to make it through the night, so Jackie came to the hospital, so that Henry could go and get the children ready for school. Allison rang the bell for the nurse. It startled Jackie. She looked up at Allison, her eyes red from crying all night. Allison smiled at her and said “Good Morning.” She stretched her arms forward and got out of the maroon chair. She rubbed her hands and asked Allison how was she feeling. She answered with a routine response.
“Jackie, I’m dying, how do you think I feel?”
She ignored her and opened the curtains “What do you need from the nurse?”
“She has to check my vitals”
“How is your stomach feeling?“
“Better than yesterday.” She rang the bell again.
“Good because I brought you a sweet tea from Lucille’s”
“Yum! Let me have it”
She opened the brown bag, and took out the Mason jar filled with dark tea, and opened it. She placed the straw inside and brought it towards Allison’s lips. The tea was a bit warm but it was her favorite thing from Lucille’s.
Jackie and Allison met in college. They had a philosophy class together. Jackie always sat behind Allison. It wasn’t until the teacher put them into the same group, that they actually spoke to each other. Eager to a make friend, they talked throughout the group activity and got no work done. They realized that they had many things in common and became inseparable.
Both of them were polar opposites. Jackie was now one of the most prominent family lawyers in the Richmond area. While Allison was a high school counselor. When Jackie was beginning her career, Allison was walking down the aisle with her college sweetheart, Henry. While Allison was having children, Jackie was putting in long hours at the office. Allison always felt badly because she always sensed loneliness in Jackie’s eyes. She wasn’t able to have a start a life with someone and that was a source of agony for Jackie. She loved her career, but she longed for someone to share her accomplishments with. Jackie wasn’t the domestic type. She hardly ever cooked, and she hired a Merry Maid to come to her home every two weeks to tidy up her place. While Allison fell in love with the family life. She felt great knowing that dinner was cooked, the house was clean, the children had done their homework, ate and where now asleep, everyone’s clothes here pressed and laid out, all under her watch and by the time Henry returned home.

One of Allison’s favorite things to do was garden. There was rarely a time where her garden went untended. Allison grew kale, tomatoes, squash, parsley, and sometimes beets. Jackie would come over every Sunday to help tend the garden, something that Allison was always fond of. They would talk about the men in her life, how big the children have gotten. Allison would unload her problem to Jackie and Jackie did the same. That’s where Allison told her she was pregnant eight years ago. That’s where Jackie told her about her dates on Friday night. That’s where Jackie told Allison about her mother’s death seven years ago and where Allison told her about her pregnancy six years ago. When Jackie or Allison had a problem, that where they helped each other solve it.
The garden was where she told Jackie that she cancer 5 years ago. One of the hardest conversations she had in her life. Allison’s hear raced as soon as she saw Jackie’s car pull up to her house. They both walked to the garden and sat down in the patio chairs that Allison set up for them.
“I have something very important to tell you, Jackie”
“What, are you pregnant again. Girl you are way too fertile. I told you-“
“No! I have ovarian cancer.”
She looked puzzled. “What” she whispered
“I have cancer,” Allison repeated.
“How…? Why? How did this happen?” she quizzed as tears rolled down her face
“I don’t know, but it’s starting to spread. The doctors say that it isn’t looking good. I am going to have my ovaries removed, and do whatever it takes to be here for my sons, but I can’t promise anything” Allison wiped the tears from her own face and then got up and hugged Jackie who was hysterical. She wiped her eyes and asked, “Are you staying for dinner because I want to pick some of the kale so that I can cook it”, awkwardly changing the subject. She left Jackie to her own thoughts and proceeded to play around in the garden. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore, and she didn’t.
The nurse entered the room and looked at the machine they had Allison hooked up to. Henry slightly opened the door. He still had on his suit. He kissed Allison’s forehead. The nurse continued to look through the charts until the heart monitor’s beep began to get closer and closer. Allison’s eyes rolled in the back of her head and she began to seize. The nurse ran out of the room and got the doctor. Henry grabbed Jackie and they both left the room. Jackie was horrified. She cried in Henry’s arm, both of them distraught about the idea of losing Allison today. They waited and waited until the doctor came out of the room. The doctor came over and told them about what had just happened. “That seizure took a lot out of her, she is extremely tired, and I think today will be the day that she passes on” He took Henry to sign some papers and Jackie returned to the room.
Allison was asleep. She looked peaceful. Jackie pulled the maroon chair next to her and held her hand. Jackie wanted to say so many things but she could pinpoint just one of her thoughts. “Why are you doing this? Come on you have to fight to be here for the boys. Allison, wake up.” The tears began to flood her eyes. “Allison, I love you.” Her tears fell on Allison’s hand and began to wake her. She slightly opened her eyelids. She tried to talk in her normal voice but that took too much out of her. She whispered, “Don’t let my boys grow up without a mother. Be as good of a friend to Henry as you have been to me. Jackie experience life, don’t let you job dictate how you live your life. Tell Henry its okay to love again. And make sure my garden always lives on through you. You are the only one who knows how to keep it nice and weed free.” She laughed. “Jackie, I’m going to be fine, it’s just my time to go and be with my savior.” She tried to bring Jackie’s hand to her lips but it proved to be too much of a task. Jackie leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Don’t be sad now.”
Henry slightly opened the door and saw his wife. He pulled out her favorite lip balm and spread it on her dry lips. “Jackie, leave me with him.” Jackie left the room and waited in the waiting area.
“Baby, we can still take you somewhere else or try another treatment-“
“I’m tired, Henry”
“No you can’t do this to me. What about me? What about the boys? You can’t leave us, Allison. We are nothing, I am nothing without you.” A tear streamed from his eye.
“Are we going to spend this moment arguing or are you going to lay with me and tell me how much you love me”
He listened to her, and called Jackie back into the room. Henry lay in the hospital bed with Allison, while Jackie sat right by her side. They all talked about life and their lives together. By the time the sun rose for the next morning, Allison was gone. Henry and Jackie awoke to the sound of her heart monitor failing.
Jackie pulled up to Allison’s house. She walked to the back and was surprisingly met by a garden of weeds. She didn’t want to tamper with them but she knew Allison would have a fit. She got down on her hands and knees and began pulling up the weeds. She cried a little but she was happy. To Jackie, the weeds were a sign of Allison’s life. She was alive through her Jackie, Henry, her son’s and lastly her garden.

On Being An Adult

           Don’t you just hate when people say to you be an adult about things, especially if that person is the same age as you, or doing the same things that you are doing. When prompted by this statement, I simply let it go because to put briefly I am an adult. But when I really thought about this statement, I began to question my adulthood. Lets start to explore this statement with step one, defining the term. Everyone already knows what be, and an mean.. a verb and an indefinite article respectively. The word adult is defined in the Merriam and Webster’s Dictionary as “fully developed and mature: grown-up”. Now this led to another question that popped into my mind. Does this definition describe physicality or some ones mental state? If it is describing ones physical being then in a sense we are all adults. But if it is describing someone mental, then we must dig deeper into what exactly is mature? This led me to many different sources by simply typing into the Merriam Webster Online Dictionary, I got this definition “(1): having completed natural growth and development: ripe (2): having undergone maturation b: having attained a final or desired state”. Now it is obvious that the first definition is talking about ones physicality. The second and third, however, are the ones that indeed puzzle me. 

       Let us start with the third, “having attained a final or desired state”. This made me think a little that if we are all striving to attain that final or desired state, then when do we ever mature, or do we ever mature? A desired state could be anything from getting all A’s on a report card to being content in ones on skin. With desired states that are so broad, how can we tell who the adults are and who are the children. A final, desired state is far too broad to weed out adults; some people are still growing and maturing and may never reach that final state until they are dead. Now addressing definition number 2, “having undergone maturation”. To completely and utterly understand this definition, you have to have an understanding of maturation is. According to Merriam and Webster’s Dictionary, “the emergence of personal and behavioral characteristics through growth processes”. Now I know this is a ton of dictionary stuff but bear with me, I’m making a point here! 

         “The emergence of personal and behavioral characteristics through growth processes” Well if the above is true then technically we are immature until the day our growth processes seize or in laymen’s terms the day we die, for we are a species that are forever growing and forever learning. So how can you tell me to be an adult, when that is mentally impossible? People believe because you are of a certain age, that along with that age comes maturity and that is definitely not the case. “Being an adult” is in fact an illusion; something that society thus far has tricked us into believing. We are expected to hit the age of 18, and then all of a sudden have this magical transformation into being an “adult”, but what most people don’t realized is that adult of older and more responsible children. This is because the learning process never stops. The growth process never stops, so who are you to tell me to grow up and be an adult…when you aren’t even one yourself.

Written 1/10/2009

Sensory Writing Exercise From Unspoken

Hey guys, here is a writing exercise I did while writing a short story entitled Unspoken (which is still to come going through some editing) I thought that it was really good when I finished it. The passage is written in first POV but Unspoken is in 3rd POV so thats something that is a bit different. So here is an excerpt from Unspoken.

Warmth hit my face, almost immediately my eyes opened themselves and I was slightly blinded by the sun’s rays. I closed my eyes again tightly to block out the sun’s blinding light. Tighter and tighter, I squeezed my eyelids. Darkness filled my sight. I opened them back up again. I tried to emerge myself from the warm comforter, but I realized Kara was there laying next to me. I opened my eyes to assure myself that I wasn’t dreaming. There she lied peacefully. The eye make up that was beautifully placed on her face yesterday was now a bit smudged. Her beauty blinded me; similar to the way the sun blinded me. Her hair was tousled everywhere. She had one curly strand in her face. I moved the tendril, feeling the soft, contour of the curl. She moved slightly to release my arm from her body. As she moved, the scent of her essence filled my nose. She smelled of citrus. Her scent energized me. I rose from the bed. I felt the soft bumpy carpet on my cold feet. I couldn’t help but watch her as I made my way to the window to close the windows and relieve her of the blinding light that beat against her soft, and fragile eyelids. She groaned a bit, which sent a sort of urgency within my body. I moved quietly and carefully towards the window, being sure not to wake her. I touched the window and the glass was cold. I left it open to catch a quick breeze. The wind started to pick it up. To be sure not to wake Kara, I quickly closed it. I returned to bed and let her scent surround me. My stomach conjured up butterflies and I had an urge to hold her. An urge to wake her. An urge to be a part of her world once again. An urge to be wrapped in her wild curls, an urge just to be wrapped inside her, so she could keep me safe and warm. The urges began to consume me, so I propelled myself out of bed. The sudden jolt nearly woke Kara; she mumbled, “Where are you going?” I answered her “Just to get the paper” I closed my eyes and kissed her forehead, allowing her sweet citrus scent to take hold of me. She grinned a bit and I went back to my task. I opened the door slightly, because it always creaked. The door let out a small creak and I slid through the crack I created. I walked through the dark living room, I was sure to close the shades there last night, so that Kara and I weren’t blinded when we decide to emerge from the bedroom. I looked at the microwave to get the time. 9:25, the paper was delivered an hour ago. I went to the door and unlocked it. A breeze flew into the apartment, and a sudden chill came over my body. I looked down and there on the linoleum tile was the paper. I grabbed it from the floor, and quickly re-entered the apartment. I locked the door and started to look at the newspaper headlines. I looked at the date and a cold chill ran up my body. This couldn’t be happening. I felt sick, my stomach was bottomless and my heart raced, faster and faster. I took a deep breath, and my mind raced to find a solution to this. With each heartbeat, my breathing got quicker and shallower. My heart took over my body. I slammed the newspaper down and urgently entered the room where Kara had spent the night. Thoughts clouded my head “How? Why? What?” were the only words that raced through my head. I became enraged as I observed her lying there peacefully I had to do something.  

Written on 11/6/2008

First Flash- The Desolate Street Corner.

Here is the First Flash Fiction, The Desolate Street Corner.

The Desolate Street Corner
By: Alysha Brown

The breeze was bitter and cold. It whipped around, shook the trees and ran straight into a young boy who was standing on the corner of a dark and lonely street. He tightened his blue sweater that he had to wear everyday to school as part of his uniform, but the breeze was determined to make him shiver. He began to shiver uncontrollably. A man in a dark car shouted to him “Jeremiah, just wait in the car!” He looked back at the man, and responded, “She will be here soon and I can’t want to miss her again!” The man rolled up the window, and mumble words of displeasure under his breath.

Jeremiah hugged his sweater tighter, determined to not let the wind take him. His sweater smelled like cigarettes from his father smoking in the car and pasta from the school lunch he ate earlier in the day. He knew his father was nervous; he smoked five cigarettes in the car as he drove to the street corner. As Jeremiah looked at his watch, a lump formed in his throat, he knew this would be another day that she wouldn’t show up. He thought, “How could I have been so stupid again?” His mother promised to show up this time and yet he already knew she wouldn’t.

He began to think back about a year and half ago when they were all a happy family. His mother didn’t work, because she wanted to be there for her son, Jeremiah. His father was a principal in a local school district and put in long hours. Jeremiah was an honor student in the 5th grade, he loved to read but math was his favorite. Everything was going well, until a sudden change struck his household. His mother began to be scarce around the house, suddenly she wasn’t able to pick Jeremiah up from school, attend his science fairs, make his meals, or correct his homework. She would be gone from dusk to dawn some days. She told Jeremiah and his dad, that Grandma was sick, and she was taking care of her. But the reality was that she was hooked on drugs. It wasn’t until Jeremiah’s dad discovered what she was doing, that he gave her an ultimatum, clean up your act or get out of the house. Jeremiah hadn’t seen her since that day. She called here and there to say Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday, but every time she spoke to Jeremiah, she would ask him to meet her on the same street, so that they could all get some dinner and talk about things.

Jeremiah dreamed of the day that he would see his mother again, but he was always let down by her. This was the third time that she had pulled a stunt like this. Jeremiah’s dad always disapproved, but Jeremiah gave her the benefit of the doubt. He looked back at his watch, it was 9:30, and she was supposed to be there at 8.

The lump in his throat began to rise higher and higher, and a tear fell from his eyes. He didn’t understand why she didn’t want to see him, why she continued to let him down. The wind blow once again, and his fingers were beginning to get numb. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his sweater. He walked across the street to where his father’s car was and entered in on the passenger side. He looked at his dad, and began to cry. His father grabbed him and said “Its not you at all, son.” He released Jeremiah and as the wind started to blow again, they sped off of the desolate street, leaving Jeremiah’s dream of seeing his mother ever again.




10/31/2008

Getting Started

Hey Blogging World, 

I am Alysha, and I will be joining the blogging world. I recently took a Creative Writing class and I rediscovered my love for writing, I guess creatively. I have been writing from a very young age mostly poetry but I have delved into writing poems, plays, flash fictions and short stories. This blog has been started by popular demand by my family eagerness to read my writings. When reading my blog there are two quotes that I want every reader to keep in mind.

"Every artist was first an amateur" -Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Keep in mind that I'm an artist and I'm sensitive about my s***"- Erykah Badu

I am open to suggestions and critiques but try to keep thing professional, and helpful. My writing will not appeal to everyone but if you enjoy it or have comments about how I can make it better that is greatly appreciated. Also I am just starting out and some of these drafts are not finals, so don't expect me to be a modern day Poe or Austen. Thank You for reading and enjoy!