Happy Haunting for Marjorie ~ #FFFC

Image Credit: Darius Bashar at Unsplash.com

It wasn’t one of those old country love songs that had her smiling as she jotted her thoughts down on the paper. It was the sounds of the ghosts on the radio, and it was the sun that was brushing against her face through the antique window. It was the way that the old rug beneath her bare feet tickled if she moved them a certain way. It never got old, and she was never in a rush for the activity in the house to stop. She hated being alone.

It was peaceful to hear them bickering at one another. It was like instant gratification when their voices would ring out, even if they did have big mouths. Jack and Deloris were the loudest spirits Marjorie had ever met, and since her near-death incident, she could hear every word they said to each other. They were still the same married couple that she had read about in the house’s detailed history. They would bicker so loud at times that the lights would flicker in every room of the house. They were harmless though. They co-existed with Marjorie very well and vice versa.

“Jack, you brought this on yourself, ya know? All you have to do is accept that we are no longer alive. I want to move on!”

Things would move around the room when Jack got mad. “If I am dead, how come I can see my hand in front of my face and use that same hand to throw all these damn books across the room, huh? Ms. Smarty Pants…answer that one!”

Marjorie chuckled under her breath.

“See…if I was dead, she wouldn’t be able to laugh at me.” He directed a dirty look to Marjorie but she couldn’t see it. She could hear them over seeing them most times. “It’s not nice to laugh at an old man, Marjorie.”

Deloris intervened, “Leave that girl alone, Jack…” He was tossing books around the room.

Marjorie looked up from her notepad. She said nothing at first. She just smiled at the radio that was talking to her.

“I’m sorry, dear…he’s a jerk that won’t accept that he is dead as a doornail! Ain’t that right, my dear sweet husband?” Deloris was becoming patronizing towards Jack. It annoyed her that Jack could not accept their fate was sealed.

Deloris was adamant about the fact that they were apparitions and not alive, but Jack still thought he was walking and talking on the plane of the living. He was in denial and refusing to accept that he had met his demise by a semi crashing into their car and pushing them into a ravine. Deloris tried to move them on from the otherworld so many times that she lost count, but Jack was as stubborn as a mule. They had occupied and haunted that beautiful mansion since 1996, and Marjorie bought the house in 2010.

Before they met Marjorie, Deloris would always have to control Jack’s temper because he would scare the tenants of the house away. He did not like to lie low or adhere to the restrictions that she put on him, so Marjorie’s presence was a breath of fresh air to him. He could be himself, besides the fact he did not think he was dead.

“Leave it to you to toot your own horn, Wifey!” He tried to grab a berry from the plate on Marjorie’s desk in a matter-of-fact way to prove a point, but his fingers could not grasp the fruit.

“Dammit! Why is this raspberry being so difficult?” Deloris!!! Can you get me a few of these?” He pointed at the plate. It was an amenable effort for Jack to want something to eat…even though ghosts cannot possibly be hungry.

“For Pete’s sake…” Deloris sounded so annoyed, “No, Jack…I cannot grab a piece of fruit, and neither can you.

“I’m sorry Marjorie…this is probably making your head spin.” Deloris returned his argument, “The only one tooting and being a fool is you, Hubby!” She was annoyed at how ridiculous he could be, but she loved him anyway.

Marjorie shrugged it off and kept writing in her journal. They had no idea that she recorded everything they said in this journal. She was catching a chill all of the sudden.

She couldn’t see him, but Jack was pacing the floor so fast that Marjorie could feel the breeze of chill from their presence on her bare feet.

The ghosts were great at entertaining Marjorie, and she actually enjoyed hearing their petty disputes and his denial of death all the time. They were stuck to her like glue when she was home, and they always made a grand entrance into her ears just as soon as her ears opened each day. That’s the cost of being a medium, Marjorie always thought to herself.

Marjorie closed her notebook, collected her purse, and head out for the day. She knew when she came back that there would be more theatrics, but for now she was so hungry from the energy drain.

“See you soon, Jack and Deloris.”

Their white noise went quiet.

© E.M. Kingston 2022 – All Rights Reserved.


Another #FFFC inspiration allowed me to write this post.

The Bitter Silence of Sorrow

She sat staring, out the window

Cold was visible as frost on the glass

She wished to escape this place

The room with the view

To the clouds in the sky

Thoughts circle inside her head

The story, she narrated to herself

The emotion blending with her sorrow

Like a raven‘s meaning, unrest

Ensued upon her psyche

A fist, she clenched it tight

As she began to wear a frown

Her body did a slide, slumping

Against a wall, hard as a rock

Would there be any to save her?

When she chose not to speak?

Bitter silence.

© E.M. Kingston 2022 – All Rights Reserved.


This was written for The Sunday Whirl Wordle #536.

The words are italicized in the poem, and they are:

Image Courtesy of The Sunday Whirl

Forgetfulness with E.M.

This week’s Sunday Poser from Sadje is:

My daughter says that I forget to take my medicine on time, and she added that I forget to take my dogs out with me when I go out to smoke a cigarette. She is right about the dogs. However, I have gotten better with taking my meds (I set a reminder on my calendar daily now), so I disagree with her about “on a regular basis” when it comes to taking my meds.

I forget to grab my phone when I leave the room or go outside, and I usually forget to lay something out for dinner on the regular.

I suppose forgetfulness will get worse as I age. I am just thankful that I can ask my Google Hub where my phone is all the time *laughs*

It is what it is, I suppose 🙂

Life Lessons and Passions with E.M. ~ #Bloganuary

I am having a few problems finding the Bloganuary posts in the widget, so I had to search and do investigating to find the prompts for the 15th and 16th. I will put them both in this post.

The January 15th Bloganuary question was:

Common sense…no explanation necessary 😀


The prompt for today on Bloganuary is:

The cause I am most passionate about is civil rights guarded by our Constitution. I want to think that the people in this generation have the ability to change the stomping of civil rights and begin fixing the history of the past. I want to believe in humanity again.

I want the Constitution to mean something again. I want women to be able to control their bodies. The government does not have a right to be sticking their nose in and telling people what to do with their reproductive health or their bodies, in general. l want to save people from death sentences for crimes they never committed. I want people who have melanin in their skin to be treated as humans and hope to see them receive reparations for their sacrifice to this nation. I want to see training in law enforcement be different than the training that military officers receive. I want to see units developed that are capable and able to respond to mental health emergencies.

Then the other side of it is the reality. I think this world works just how the hierarchy of people has chosen for it to work. It wants to hate and oppress people. It wants division. It wants inequality. It wants to divide and conquer any person who stands against its ideology of white supremacy. It’s a complete mess for anyone who believes in the Constitution, like me. We call it broken…they say it’s just right.

It feels like we are doomed, but I want to save someone’s life…just once at least.

xoxo, E.M.

E.M.’s Songs That Go Bang

This week the theme for Song Lyric Sunday is songs that feature lyrics of Bomb, Gun, Knife, Weapon. This was another week that I knew exactly which songs I would share with all of you from my playlists. Thank you to Jim (newepicauthor) for having this weekly prompt for us to share our music with one another. I really enjoy it!

The first song I will share with you is one by Shinedown called 45. A little summary of the song is about this man, and his heart is broken. He is contemplating taking his own life because his heart has no purpose anymore. When I was with my ex-husband, I could always relate to the feelings in the song, but I could never look down the barrel as he ponders on.

45

Send away for a priceless gift
One not subtle, one not on the list
Send away for a perfect world
One not simply, so absurd
In these times of doing what you’re told
Keep these feelings, no one knows

Whatever happened to the young man’s heart
Swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart

And I’m staring down the barrel of a 45
Swimming through the ashes of another life
No real reason to accept the way things have changed
Staring down the barrel of a 45

Send a message to the unborn child
Keep your eyes open for a while
In a box high up on the shelf, left for you, no one else
There’s a piece of a puzzle known as life
Wrapped in guilt, sealed up tight

Whatever happened to the young man’s heart
Swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart

And I’m staring down the barrel of a 45
Swimming through the ashes of another life
No real reason to accept the way things have changed
Staring down the barrel of a 45

Everyone’s pointing their fingers
Always condemning me
And nobody knows what I believe
I believe

And I’m staring down the barrel of a 45
Swimming through the ashes of another life
No real reason to accept the way things have changed
Staring down the barrel of a 45

And I’m staring down the barrel of a 45
And I’m swimming through the ashes of another life
There’s no real reason to accept the way things have changed
Staring down the barrel of a 45

45
Staring down the barrel of a 45

The second song I chose to share with you is a true story about Cassie Bernall, a student that was murdered in the Columbine High massacre. She was killed because she told her murder that she believed in God when he asked. Flyleaf wrote Cassie in her honor for standing by her beliefs. She was brave and died for it.

School shootings are so often these days since Columbine, and it’s a reminder that we live in a world that is very cold and broken. A few themes ago, I shared Jeremy by Pearl Jam with the same kind of story. It’s sad, and it happens far too often.

There are two versions of this song, an acoustic and a full band. My preference is the full version, but some of you may enjoy the acoustic version better. (Lacy Sturm can belt out some screams that may not tickle everyone’s fancy *giggles*).

Here are both versions:

The Acoustic Version of Cassie by Flyleaf:

Cassie (Acoustic)

The question asked in order to save her life or take it
The answer ‘no’, avoiding death and ‘yes’ would make it

‘Do you believe in God?’ written on the bullet
Say yes to pull the trigger and my sister, Cassie, pulled it

They didn’t love their lives so much as to shrink from death
Inspired in their footsteps, we will march ahead
Don’t be shocked that people die
Be surprised you’re still alive

All heads are bowed in silent reverence
The floor is wet with tears of sorrowful remembrance
The alter’s filled with hearts of repentance
Perfect love kills all fear
Rejoice in this deliverance

They didn’t love their lives so much as to shrink from death
Inspired in their footsteps, we will march ahead
Don’t be shocked that people die
Be surprised you’re still alive

The Full Band Version of Cassie by Flyleaf:

Cassie

The question asked in order
To save her life or take it
The answer “No” to avoid death
The answer “Yes” would make it
Make it

“Do you believe in God?”
Written on the bullet
Say “Yes” to pull the trigger
“Do you believe in God?”
Written on the bullet
And Cassie pulled the trigger

All heads are bowed in silence
To remember her last sentence
She answered him knowing what would happen
Her last words still hanging in the air
In the air

“Do you believe in God?”
Written on the bullet
Say “Yes” to pull the trigger
“Do you believe in God?”
Written on the bullet
And Cassie pulled the trigger

How many will die
I will die
I, I will say “Yes”

“Do you believe in God?”
Written on the bullet
Say “Yes” to pull the trigger
“Do you believe in God?”
Written on the bullet
And Cassie pulled the trigger

(Do you believe?)
“Do you believe in God?”
(Do you believe?)
“Do you believe in God?”
(Do you believe?)
“Do you believe in God?”

And I will pull the trigger

Now, I am going to take you back to my younger years of sitting in my room (in the clubhouse I built under my trundle bed) and blaring my music to avoid everyone. The next song I chose to share with you is called You’re All Need by Motley Crue. Nikki Sixx revealed that one of his relationships inspired the song later when he wrote The Heroin Diaries. You can read the full story by clicking here.

You’re All I Need

The blade of my knife
Faced away from your heart
Those last few nights
It turned and sliced you apart
This love that I tell
Now feels lonely as hell
From this padded prison cell

So many times I said
You’d only be mine
I gave my blood and my tears
And loved you cyanide
When you took my lips
I took your breath
Sometimes love’s better off dead

You’re all I need, make you only mine
I loved you so I set you free
I had to take your life
You’re all I need, you’re all I need
And I loved you but you didn’t love me Laid out cold
Now we’re both alone
But killing you helped me keep you home
I guess it was bad
Cause love can be sad
But we finally made the news

Tied up smiling
I thought you were happy
Never opened your eyes
I thought you were napping
I got so much to learn
About love in this world
But we finally made the news

You’re all I need, make you only mine
I loved you so, so I put you to sleep.

I hope you enjoy my picks for songs that feature guns, weapons, knives, or bombs. We have to find a way to take away the normalization of school shootings and staying in abusive relationships. If you are not happy, leave. It is easier said than done, but I survived. I finally got away.

xoxo,

E.M.

Amy’s Challenges ~ #Bloganuary [[[Trigger Warning]]]

The Bloganuary prompt for today, which is near over in my time zone,


You may have noticed I used my government name for the title instead of E.M. This is because sometimes I think it is important for you all to know Amy as well. Overcoming challenges that you face is a personal matter, so I figured that Amy would write this post. I will say that this could have *triggers* for my fellow mental health followers, so please read carefully and safely.

I remember being 11 or 12 years old, and I was a bit rebellious. It was the age I started smoking, and it was also when I had my first French kiss from the neighbor. He wasn’t my challenge though, nor was my smoking. I was battling demons that I never really knew existed because I had blacked them out of my mind. I began self-injuring myself at the same time that I started being boy crazy and stealing my mother’s cigarettes from her file cabinet.

At first, it was banging my head against a wall when I would get mad or frustrated–stressed out, and then I started punching them. I would do it until it hurt me or until my knuckles were bleeding. No one ever knew or heard me lash out because I had a lot of time to do it. I remember smacking myself, digging my claws in my arms and legs, and then I met someone who was a cutter. When I say cutter, I don’t mean someone who cuts the grass or mosquito repellent. She would take a razor to her arm and slice just enough to cry red tears.

I hated crying salty, clear tears. My nose would run, and my eyes would turn puffy. I always felt like I looked so ugly when I cried, and I was tired of crying. I tried my friend’s red tears, and I fell in love with it. It really did not hurt initially. It was the next day that was when my remorse would hit because it would burn and hurt. Sometimes it would bruise, depending on what I would use to cut. She and I bonded even more over the cutting.

One day, I found my boyfriend in bed with that same friend that showed me a new world. (If you can believe that this has happened to me more times than I would care to admit, but it also ended my marriage decades later.) I grabbed all of my belongings because I lived with her, and I always kept this knife that my father had given me in my purse for protection. I was having such a terrible panic attack from discovering them that I collapsed in the road as I was walking away.

As I sat there, with my legs crossed in the middle of the road, my mind only thought of one thing…cutting. I grabbed the knife, went blank in my mind, and when I came back to reality I had 8 puncture marks in my legs, the calf area. I had blacked out again. I immediately found a way to call my oldest sister that lived in Indiana to pick me up. It was about 30 minutes away from where I was at.

When I got back to her house, I needed stitches but would not let my sister and her boyfriend take me to the doctor. He taped it shut for me. I still wear the scars of that attack on myself and many others.

This story is relevant because I used to think about cutting every single day since I was 20 years old. That’s how old I was when found cutting from my so-called “friend”. It was a challenge to learn how not to want to cut.

Since getting back on my meds, I have not had one thought of cutting myself or hurting myself. I am pretty chill most of the time, and I cannot wait to tell all of you when I have gone a year without cutting, but we are looking at nearly 6 months of being cut-free 🙂

Before my last episodes of it, I had not cut in over a year, but I had to draw butterflies where I wanted to cut to stop. Now, I see it as something that crossed me, and that I am now overcoming.

xoxo, Amy.

E.M.’s Ideal Day ~ #Bloganuary

The January 13th Bloganuary prompt asked:


  • Wake up around 9:30 a.m. PST without pain
  • A quiet cigarette (or 2) and cup of iced coffee while letting the dogs go potty
  • Play my fishing game and check my social media, and then I take my dogs in.
  • Gather all of my prompts and respond to comments
  • Write a few prompts after organizing my writing space
  • Make me something to snack on to last until dinner
  • Write a little bit more
  • Typing practice
  • Research a bit on topics I am interested in
  • Fix our dinner
  • Eat and watch a show with my sister and daughter
  • Go back to my room and write.
  • Meds and then bed around 11 p.m. to midnight…depending on when I take my meds.

The only variation would be if we ordered out for dinner, and most times I don’t indulge in breakfast or lunch. One meal a day is good for me.

If I am being antisocial, I spend the tv time in my room catching up on my shows.

I’m pretty boring right now.

xoxo, E.M.