Tales From the Darkside - Creative Challenge

                Linda Claiborne paused in the doorway.  She looked around the padded, windowless room and wondered why they kept putting her in here.  “Life will slowly show you the dark side of everything, every time you think you’ve made it.”

                The thought came unbidden, unwanted.  Were they afraid of her?  Afraid of what they thought she knew?  A slow smile lifted the corners of her mouth—or just afraid?

                “Please, sit down , Ms. Claiborne.”  Dr. Hester gestured toward the chair,  her voice coarse and hard.

                Linda stared disdainfully at the psychiatrist.  She hated her.  Hated the shellaced hairdo.  The red, red lips as if she had just devoured another soul.  She smiled softly again.  Because she knew.  Opening her mouth she spoke for the first time in three years.  She spoke the words she’d always wanted to say.

                "You think I’m crazy?" Linda hissed.   Her gazed traveled  around the room again, her eyes blazing with the contempt she felt.  “Don’t trust your sense of security. Don’t trust your profession.  Don’t trust anything.  It’s there; it’s waiting; it’s ready.”

               She watched as  Dr. Hester scratched the area that  long ago had housed a set of prominent balls.  Funny how it was much harder to break the scratching habit than it had been to get rid of those useless appendages
               “Sit down, Ms. Claiborne.”

                Linda turned around so she wouldn’t have to look at the psychiatrist’s haughty face another moment.  She studied the remnants of a stain on the padded floor, wondering what tortured soul  had left it there and why that section of the padding hadn’t been replaced.

                “Several years ago I was just like everyone else.  Young, pretty, my whole life ahead of me.  I had it all.”

~ ~ ~

                Dr. Hester sat, carefully watching as she listened to Linda.  She knew it. She knew eventually she’d break the bitch down.  Get inside her head.  And yet  her words were the same as all those before her.  Wondering what had happened to them.  “It wasn’t long ago I was carefree and happy.” 

~ ~ ~

                Linda continued talking, ignoring the smirk on Dr. Hester’s face.  Her eyes took on a dreamy far away look.

                “You want to know what happened to me?”  Linda turned back to the psychiatrist, her hands clenched tightly at her side.  “It can happen to you too, you know.  You think you’re so smug.  So smart. But you don’t know what’s out there.  You think it lurks in the dark.  It doesn’t."  Linda paused, wiping the  drool from her chin, “It’s coming.  It’s coming for you.”

                Dr.  Hester laughed. “Please, Ms. Claiborne, surely after three years of silence you can say something more profound than this dribble.”

                “Remember the dark.  Notice it around you.  Be aware of everything.  Don’t brush off those little things that bother you; those are your warnings.”

                Dr. Hester yawned, clicking long nails against the desk.  “Three years.  I’ve waited three years  to get inside your head, and this is all there is.  How boring."  

                Linda turned her back to the psychiatrist and closed her eyes.  Closed out the ugly vision. 

                “And the funny thing is, Doctor,” Linda spat the word doctor out like a four letter word, “you will never see it coming.  I can promise you that.  You will think she’s your friend.  Oh, if I didn’t hate you so much, I would actually feel sorry for you.”

                “You can go now, Ms. Claiborne.  I’ll see you in group tomorrow. “

                Linda smiled, her voice soft, gentle.  “I’ll grant your wish, Dr. Hester.”

                “And what wish would that be, Ms. Claiborne?” Dr. Hester scoffed, shuffling the paper work on her  desk.

                Linda didn’t answer,  but opened the door, quickly leaving the room.  Soon.  It would be soon.   Her lips curved into a smile.  “ I’ll let you inside my mind.”

Had a lot of fun with this one.  Perhaps tomorrow I'll do the light side.

Opening Your Creative Mind

Creativity is one of the most rewarding and essential parts of our everyday life. It’s when we feel the most alive. Whether it’s planting flowers, painting a room, solving a problem, inventing something new, writing a book, or just daydreaming the future to come. When we’re creating we are the happiest, healthiest and most satisfied with the world around us.

Most people if asked would tell you they’re not creative. But that isn’t true. Everyone has a creative nature. Just the process of choosing the right blouse or shirt to go with the right pants or skirt is in itself a creative process. You mix, match and then try them on to see not only how they look together, but how they look on you. Sometimes you love the creation, sometimes you go back to the drawing book and/or closet and try again.

Stress and the hustle and bustle of today’s world are definite killers to the creative process. Some of us, myself included, find ourselves just pulling the first thing we find out of the closet. We’re too tired or perhaps to rushed to take the time to be creative. This in itself increases our frustration with our everyday life, and increases our stress load. We need that few moments of creativity to give us a boost, make us feel attractive.

So how do we get it back? Where do we start to reopen creativity in our world? We have not a writer’s block, but a life block. Lack of time or simply lack of initiative. Below are a few techniques you can use to reopen that world. The more you use them, the more you’ll find you want to use them, for those few moments of each day become more enjoyable, happier. A time for you.

First – recognize that you have creative thoughts thousands of times a day. They’re fleeting, and you have to grab on quick and hold on. Learn to pay attention to your thoughts. Learn to capture the important ones. Keep a notepad close, or a small recorder. It may only be a few words, a brief vision. Write it down, or record it for later study.

Second—challenge yourself daily. Take something that you find difficult. Set up a model of ways to make it easier. Or a better way of doing the same thing that’s more economical and produces a greater output in less time.

Third—Broaden the world around you. Take a walk at lunch. Go to a new store where you’ve never been before. Even if you’re not looking for anything specific. There you’ll see new people, new things and broaden your creative outlook. Drive down a different street before heading home. See what other people are doing. What type of flowers adorns their walks. Strike up a conversation with a stranger. They probably want to talk too, but may be too insecure to approach you.

Four—stimulate your creative mind with oddities. You’re going to be at your desk for eight hours or more. Put something on your desk that every time you look at it you think something different. Perhaps an apple and a pair of rubber gloves. I know that’s sort of weird. But every time your gaze falls on that apple and rubber gloves your mind is going to try to decipher why you have gloves and an apple together. A child’s toy and trowel. Stimulate your mind with objects that are different than what’s normally on your desk. Change this daily. With diverse and changing stimuli you’ll find your mind beginning to change, seek new direction and creative ideas flowing more freely.

Have a great day, and create something new.

Censoring Blogs--Book Burning

I recently joined a literary site for authors, writers, artists and generally anyone within an artistic field. I posted a poem, or perhaps several poems. I'm truly not sure the exact post. Yesterday I received a somewhat disturbing, but nice email informing me that although the moderator had the greatest respect for me, and in fact referred to me as Dear Sister (excuse me); that she had deleted my blog because she had never been there and therefore could not connect with the feelings expressed therein. She went on to say that abuse was a legal issue, not appropriate for writing. Abused people needed to just stop the abuse and stop whining. She invited me to write something more appropriate for the literary world.

First I was appalled that any literary site, which started it's headline and title with Literary would censor any blog as long as it wasn't offensive and it was well formatted and free of blatant typos. This reminded of the days of book burning. I wonder how many people burned C. S. Lewis' Screwtape Letters without ever reading it, and understanding that it wasn't the work of the devil, but was instead a wonderful book, funny and entertaining, which clearly glorified God.

I wrote a nice letter back to the moderator, and kindly informed her that on behalf of the thousands of men, women and children who suffer mental, emotional or physical abuse daily, I felt that I needed to educate her on a few things.

First of all, abuse is not just a legal issue. I know, as I worked in courtrooms for many years, and yes, the legal system can lock up the abuser--but the damage done to the abused is out of the judicial systems purview, and out of their control.

Secondly, there is not a psychiatrist, psychologist or mental health professional that would EVER tell an abused individual not to talk about, write about or somehow try to deal with the emotions and trauma that abuse has caused them. This is not whining. In fact, it's far from it. It is the abused's efforts to take charge of their emotions, their lives, and therefore never allow themselves to be a victim again. And what better way than words?

Words have power, and words can be powerless. We use words every day in one context or another. We use words that are powerless and that have no meaning. We say things to people that we don't mean, don't feel and truly don't care about. Over a period of time our words are powerless, because they have no feeling, no emotion behind them, and we start to loose that power in other areas of life. Victims of abuse, many times are powerless to stop their abuser. Powerless to change their lives.

I have been fortunate to work with many young people, mostly young women, who have lost their power. They've given in to their abusers, and simply given up on themselves. Addictions. Drugs. Alcohol. Sex. They can never change their lives and come out of the victim stage without some sense of power. We've worked on creative writing. Using words to express the internal emotions of pain, frustration, anger, hopelessness and moving on to joy, hope, faith and future. Mastering words that have feelings, emotions and life gives power to the word, thus power to the writer. Power to take charge of their feelings. Power to take charge of their addictions. Power to take charge of their future. It doesn't happen overnight, but with words, therapy, and guidance every victim can change their life. I know this too, because I did.

Deleting a blog, because you can't connect with the emotions and feelings of the blogger, is like throwing out the cake, because you're allergic to chocolate even though there are going to be 30 other guests at your table. Where would our literary world be today, if every publisher or every literary site had decided to censor material? What happened to freedom of expression? And what happened to just good old courtesy from the moderator who could easily have written and said, "I'm sorry, we have a site policy against blogging about these subjects: (and listed the subjects) and therefore I would ask that you please rewrite or remove your blog."

Censorship. Book burning. I felt I woke up forty years in the past. And as a final note, I asked the moderator to remove me from their site. It clearly was not the proper forum for me. Not because I hated having my own blog removed, but I hated the idea that I might be missing some great articles by other contributors that this particular moderator had not experienced, or could not connect to.