If You Go Into The Woods…

I went for a walk in the woods

to maybe hear a  story, or find a story or maybe I just wanted to see what was there…

 I’m sure I was seen too.

I can only hope I was this fascinating:

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Inspired by the SFC Prompt: The Visitor

Loki

Last year I went to the Midwest to visit my son and to introduce myself to my first grandchild  and this was who sat in the next aisle over from me.

This is Loki.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

First off, I wasn’t sure how I felt about becoming a Grandmother because I listen to the Ramones and I eat Pizza and watch old horror movies every Friday with my dog because that’s what I’ve done since I was about five years old.

The only difference now is that I get to choose the pizza and all of the toppings for myself and I have a different dog but I let him eat pizza from his own plate next to me on the couch and NOBODY can tell me not to feed the dog in the living room  and to always let other people choose what went on the pizza because I wasn’t- as my family would put it ” Not God ”

So like I said, ” Anita is a Grandmother ” sounded a little funny when I said it out loud. I don’t feel grown up enough to have walked into that role.

You’re probably wondering, “what does this have to do with a dog named Loki who sat next to me on the airplane?

The God Loki was a trickster and to put it nicely, he was a bit of an underhanded cad.

So what was my takeaway from this?

I sat next to a dog named Loki on the day I was flying out to explore a new part of my life that I never saw myself living.

I could fly to this destiny and embrace the fact that I was a Grandma now and that it was probably time to cut off my hair and wear sensible outfits and become a little more patient and dignified.

OR

I could keep in my that I was flying to this new stage of my life with a dog ( who are the best things  to have been  created ) named after God who was known for shape shifting.

In turn Loki shifted from flea, a kite, an old woman he had a wicked tongue and was evil in spirit and he was connected to flight.

I guess I knew that I might be changing or phasing and that’s ok.

As long as I remember Loki did all of those things with gusto, guts and bit of wickedness and probably humor to boot.

That I can do.

Photo A.M. Moscoso Hamish getting ready for ” Pizza Night “

 

SFC PROMPT: HOUSE OF THE MUSE

The Wishing Well

 

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Her name is

Jingle Gravesend

and she was the there when the Sphinx was newly built

Her name is

Jingle Gravesend

and she was there when the Sun burst to life

in the sky.

Her name is

Jingle Gravesend

and she fought in the Crusades on a black horse

and wherever she rode

Death would step to the side let her have her way.

Her name is Jingle Gravesend

and

todays she sits by a Wishing Well

and she is  thinking  about her Cat

with the mismatched eyes

and her dog with two faces

and she is thinking about the years

she has spent

without them

then she hides her face in her hands

and she wishes with all of her might

after she drops her coins

into the Wishing Well  at  the Garden at Bancroft Manor

that  no one sees her crying.

 

Bancroft Manor: Creating Dossiers

Erasmus and Jingle Have A Chat

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Erasmus found Jingle exactly where she was everyday at around three o’clock in the afternoon.

She was in front of the window near the kitchens being “inspired.”

Today there was someone on the swing, twirling around and around seemingly oblivious to the man and woman watching them.

” So ,” Erasmus said. ” I suppose you may have heard we are down a Fortune Teller her at the Manor.”

Jingle raised her hand to the figure on the swing.

It continued to twirl.

” No. I hadn’t heard that.” She turned away from the window and Erasmus wasn’t she if that look of impatience and disgust was for him or the uninspiring Twirler outside.

” You wouldn’t have met up with her while you were out there looking for inspiration, did you.”

” Seriously Erasmus, what business would someone like me have with a Fortune Teller?”

” They have a way of getting at the heart of things, and if you have something to hide-”

Jingle turned back to the window and put her forehead against the glass. ” Yeah, well if that’s the case I just fell off your list of people to talk to. ”

Jingle turned to back to Erasmus and pointed to her chest. ” Haven’t had one in ages.”

Erasmus narrowed his eyes, which were very green and bloodshot ” That being the case, I don’t suppose you’ve seen anything unusual or out of place.”

” You’re kidding me, right?” she asked.

” No. I. Am. Not.”

“My first night here I saw a woman dancing on the stairs. She’s bad news Erasmus. She creeps me out, if you want to know the truth.”

Jingle cleared her throat, but to Erasmus it sounded like a growl.

Erasmus left Jingle to her quest for inspiration and he wondered, exactly what it took to scare a woman like Jingle. He wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to find out.

Bancroft Manor: Creative First Aid.

Curious Ideas

Sometimes I find the most curious things when I turn a corner

climb a set of stairs

or when I look up.

Other times

the curious

find

me.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

 

Photo A.M. Moscoso

When you

ride the same train to work

every single day

and

you see the same half awake faces

sitting around you

every single day

and

you see the same cars flying past you to get to the big box store down the street

where the people in those cars

are in a hurry to buy the same crud they bought last week

It’s time, not probably the time, but it is most definitely

time

to either

pick up a book or a pen or throw a ball for your dog to catch

because I have heard

from many ghost stories

that

even dead people dream.

Have you?

The Determined Passenger

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I ride the same train to and from work five days a week.

I  take the same seat next to the window near the middle of the car  so I  can charge my phone, God knows why I hardly ever get calls or texts.

I suppose I do that because it’s what one does and when one is in public- one makes the effort to belong.

 

One day a new passenger got on the train and of all the seats she could have taken, she took the one in front of me.

She smiled.

I did not because it didn’t matter what I said or did. I doubt if she even really saw me.

The new person, phone in hand gave it a little swipe with her finger and then she disappeared, as most people do, into the small screen.

I was relived.

New people chat or shift around in their seats and end up being a distraction.

I don’t like to be distracted and I like my quiet-I wasn’t always such a solitary creature. I suppose I evolved into one.

 

I  take my book out of my backpack and found my place. You see I read real books with paper pages becauseI like the feel of them in my hand. They are solid, they smell good and most of all they ground me here and hold me here like an anchor would hold a boat or ship in place  in a stormy sea.

At exactly 4:12 just before the doors close the usual passengers pile in and claim their seats and as if they were performing some sort of dance together, they all sit and take out their phones and swipe the screens at the exact same moment and like the woman in front of me they disappear into their phones, into their own little worlds.

I am alone now, in the car I ride every single day to and from work- sometimes I wonder where they all go when they jump through those little screens but I’ve never been curious enough to follow them.

I have my book with paper pages and I carry my phone so that I will blend in-at least that’s the idea.

But I guess I don’t really  fit in  and I suppose- as I hold my book to my chest, with my finger holding it open to the page I am going to start reading- by the look of those seats empty of people but each holding a small chattering, blinking phone, that might not be such a bad thing.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Created from the Character Sketch created in “ My Portrait In Words

Portraiture Part 2

View From My Coffin

I work in a building that is below street level, right near the railroad tracks.

When I look up I can see the part of the sky and the sides of buildings- some are brick, some glass and buses, I can always see them . I know. Exciting, right?

I call it my Coffin view because if you laid down ( which I wouldn’t advise, so you’d have to imagine it ) it’s the view you would get if you were in a coffin.

One day though, I saw something new what I looked up peeking over the rail at me from the foot of my coffin:

A.M. Moscoso

Really? I thought. Am I really seeing this? I  walked up a little closer and looked straight up and in addition to f the usual brick and glass and bus tops – it really  was  there looking down into my coffin.

A.M. Moscoso

I walked through an  unused  train tunnel to the street above and there he was

Anubis- and he was magnificent.

Photo A.M Moscoso

I had no idea what at the time what it took to set up a 26 foot tall 5.5 ton  statue of the God Anubis to the corner of the street that overlooks my Coffin- I have no idea because from my coffin I can’t hear much of what happens on the street above.

I’m guessing if you asked the segment of our former population that now resides underground they would say the same thing.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

I spent a lot of time around the statue of the God Anubis during his visit to Seattle. After all, I had learned the art of embalming, I worked below the street where there are the remains of what used to be everywhere I walk and I write about ghosts and those little things that crawl into our dreams at night and turn them into nightmares.

I’m very fond of this particular deity…color you surprised, right?

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Of all my pictures, I love these the most because of what they represent:

Sometimes when I go outside and look up from my Coffin and my lip sort of does the Elvis lip curl because it’s a pretty uninspiring, bland smelly view but I remember this day and I have the pictures recoding the moment and I actually  hope and think it’s possible that one day  I see something this great again.

HERE is a video of the statue of Anubis being  brought in that was shot by the Seattle Department of Transportation:

SFC: Alluvial Mining: MINING FOR IDEAS

My Portrait In Words

A Non-Tradition Ice Breaking Exercise From My Writing Group 

at Bancroft Manor

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Every day after work

I look forward to walking  my dog because he makes me smile and when he’s done something well, like the time he found a bag of french fries in the bushes his eyes twinkle and his tail spins around in circles.

In the evening I write and I play with words and I write poems even though I’m not technically any good at it because I’m NOT any good at it and nobody can stop me from trying- it’s about as rebellious as I get now days. I used to be a musician and I wore a leather jacket and I wore black eyeshadow before it was cool.

As I was thinking about what it like to get home after work, what it’s like to reach my door ( at last!) and put the key in the lock and turn it and push my door open and what it’s like to see my  dog and my gargoyle collection on the mantelpiece and my cats on the couch and I just realized how I always exhale – I wonder was I holding my breath all day? What is THAT all about?

Anyway, what I popped into my head was I can walk in and out of doors all days long- the ones at work, the ones on the train, and yes I guess I take a deep breath and I hold it what for?

Weird right?

But there are other times, and there are other doors, like when I go to the symphony, or to the movies or to a museum or when I get on an airplane or a boat- the air just flows all around me and  I  think I know what it feels like to be a -kite one of those cool ones that look like a butterfly- and when I walk through that door I’m positive I’m  going to fly.

Photo by Don Milo on Pexels.com

Portraiture Part 1

Sometimes, It Comes For You

Today I took three pictures and each one came with a story as  captured them.

It was like a little play that I walked through at lunch time.

Interesting.

amm

Act1

PHOTO A.M. Moscoso

This cat used to be two rabbits

and then one day it changed

Did it eat the rabbits you might wonder,

or did the rabbits run away?

Act 2

Photo A.M. Moscoso

There is a face

that is screaming

because it’s trapped against this wall.

Nobody ever sees it, nobody hears it

nobody cares about it at all.

 

The End

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Sometimes

he said to me sadly,

as his world came to an end

Sometimes

you don’t have to go to Hell.

Sometimes.

It comes for you.

 

SFC Prompt: ALLIVIAL MINING: The World’s A Stage

Jingle Gravesend’s Treasures Arrived Today

Bancroft Manor  Prompt 1 Part  2

The crates arrived

at Bancroft Manor

not at night

but during the day- just after breakfast in fact.

Not that anyone was in the Manor House that day to eat breakfast, or even lunch.

The Manor was, as it had been cemetery quiet for a very long time.

 

They were stacked neatly in the foyer, three  crates bound shut with leather straps,

in front of two movers who wear wearing tombstone gray overalls.

The boxes were side marked

” Jingle Gravesend-top floor ”

 

Earlier one of the movers said to the other mover as they brought the crates inside-whose name I think was Frank-Frank said ” That’ a weird name.”

Frank’s co -worker Lem agreed.

 

” Wonder what kind of things someone named Jingle Gravesend would be sending to herself to a Manor House where nobody has lived for 60 years. ”

They looked around, almost furtively- what they could see of the furniture and the woodwork was old and faded but not neglected. The paintings though, the paint looked oddly wet and almost a little too vibrant.

” This place used to be a hospital.” Frank said and he stepped back a little when his voice echoed back at him. ” Heard it’s going to be a private residence now. ”

Lem looked down at his shoes and then he wiped his hands against his chest. ” What kind of hospital.”

” The kind you got sent to, you know,  for a rest.”

The men looked sadly up the stairs that led to the attic. ” I suppose it’s haunted or something. ” Lem said. ”  Old Manor House out in the woods that used to be a hospital for the, what do you call it- the infirm.  How could it not have, issues.”

They  agreed, without speaking a word that they were getting those crates with the weird named stenciled on the sides up to the top floor and then they were going to hot foot it out of there.

Eyes forward and hop to it gentleman- that was the name of the game.

Frank took two of the crates and Lem  loaded one onto a hand truck and then they made their way up  the slightly dusty stairs.

Their footsteps sounded muffled as they slowly climbed the marble staircase, very much in the same way a hand reaches over your shoulder and clamps over your mouth to stifle your scream when you are walking down a corridor or maybe up a long dark staircase in a house that is not only watching you but listening to you too.

Lem and Frank did not notice.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

 

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso