Some Zombie Fun this Halloween

I would say if scary was fashion (sorta is), Zombies are whats in.  The LBD of sci fi and horror these days.  So in honor of Halloween I dug up a little Zombie Flash Fiction I did for a fest a couple of years ago.  It was my first Zombie fic and presently only.  By far one of the sickest bits of fiction for me.  But it was fun to try something new.

So Happy Halloween all! And FYI, NaNoWriMo is underway tomorrow. Writers start your engines!!!!!!!

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Illustration from 'Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark' by Alvin Shzwartz (A favorite!)

What Lonely Wanted

She was special. She was special before the world went into the shitter. Back in the day, any guy would have given their left nut to be with Missy McQueen and now… Well, Chaz Dooley was going to give a lot more.

Chaz leaned his shotgun against the steel gate forgotten, then tossed his jacket up on the fence never to be worn again. Stepping into the corral, a deep guttural groan greeted him from the far end of the paddock. Chaz smiled wistfully.

They had been together before; she was his second living dead girl. Hell, there were more living dead girls than the ones with heart beats these days, so a guy had to take his chances “dating”. Chances being cornering, roping and then gagging the date so extremities weren’t eaten. The rest was the “dating” part.

“Missy, I’m back. I told ya I would be back.”

Dark ruby eyes glowered from the shadows, sending a groin tightening chill up Chaz’s spine. Stepping closer he could see that she was nearly free from the bonds he had left her in earlier this week. Her long flaxen hair hung in clotted dreads and dirt. The last outfit she wore before her change torn asunder by her months questing for flesh and brains and Chaz and her ‘lovemaking’.

Chaz took in an adoring sigh and came up to his captive/loves gagged maw. “I missed you and now I’m going to join you my beautiful girl.”

This last month, life in Tulsa had taken to a whole new level of living dead apocalypse hell. Besides Chaz, only a handful of humanity was left within the city limits and with no contact from the rest of the world abroad it was looking pretty bleak. All of his friends, family, even most of his enemies were now dead or living dead. Just this morning his Mom wobbled by the house and he threw her a rat for breakfast.

Chaz was lonely and people like Chaz made lonely an obsession. He ached to be a part of something because the living crowd he was presently a part of was dwindling down to dust.

And when he ran into Missy or ran from Missy a month ago while looking for canned goods down 5th street, he knew he had found that something—that someone he was needing.

Missy had begun to thrash and gurgle. The gag in her mouth was now bit through in anticipation and the ropes anchoring her to the barn fence threatened to give. It’s what Chaz wanted. He wanted her to free herself and come to him—embrace him in her fierce primeval grip and claim him.

“Take me Missy.” Chaz raised his arms up and out, welcoming his becoming. “Take me—make me one of you so I’m not alone…”
And she did.

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Some would say Chaz Dooley was a fairly sick SOB for loving a Zombie like he did. Others would say he was just crazy lonely in a world gone mad. I’d say Chaz found Zombie luv

Coulda, Shoulda, Gonna

I coulda not posted today.  To tell ya the truth I was looking to have some big topic on writing, some funny home spun yarn about my week, but nope, nada, nothing.  I am winging this post, but I am making one.

Regular posting on Blog = WIN!!!!!

I shoulda joined in on the writers challenge with the folks over at Romantic Friday Writers, but I realized I not only didn't have anything that fit the challenge, I also had no time to write something up on the fly and be good enough to share.  I am thinking I should have thought about that before entering said challenge, but I was so excited about joining in on something again, here in the Bloggerverse.

 = SHOULDA

I AM gonna join in on the NaNoWriMo action next week.  Honest Injun, I will take on the 30 days and nights of writing, however I shall be cutting the word count in half at 25,000 words and not 50,000.  I am learning my present limitations.  This is good.  But my limitations will not limit my aspirations.  I will continue to write.

=  GONNA!!!!

So coulda, shoulda, woulda my writing?!?!?!  Not gonna.

A Baby Changes Everything?

It is true. A baby does change everything…. Everything? Priorities change – check. Body changes – check. Brain chemistry changed and may never return – sadly, check. Home environment changes – double check. These things change because they must change. Pregnancy, childbirth and child rearing require it of me. But how many items other mothers put on the “change” checklist don’t have to change or shouldn’t?

 

Obviously if the above changes I named occur when one becomes a mom, you technically are living much of your life for your child and those changes are fine by me.  Part of that whole change in priorities thing.   But I believe that there are many changes, some small and some large, that are a matter of choice. 

 

I once heard someone say its time to put away childish things when starting a family.  So long, youthful hair gets cut short because of practicality?  Social life becomes trips to the grocery store and the occasional play date?  Heels become tennis shoes and couture becomes sweats and jeans?  Of course the sweats are welcome, because worrying about ones waistline or style has taken a backseat to grooming and growing your little family.  And a big one for me, pipe dreams become old hobbies and old hobbies become nearly non-existent???

 

I say no!

 

I say these changes fit into "matter of choice".  And what is wrong with keeping some "childish things" in your life.  Some of the smartest, most successful or just plain good people I've known still feed their inner child and have made the best of parents.   Because when you keep the things that make you uniquely YOU, the world and your children's world benefits.  Our children learn that its okay to be a individual and how important it is to have dreams.  They watch us follow those dreams, live our lives and enjoy the lives we have made.  And maybe in the end respect us as role models for doing so. 

 

I want James to have a mommy he is proud of.  I want him to believe dreams are possible because he has watched me work for one of mine.

 

So I sit here in suburbia, a rural girl out of water with my long hair and high heel boots, typing away at a dream. 

 

While a happy baby boy chatters away, just down the hall...

 

 

And the WIP Returns Once More.

I have been having a hard time starting back up my writing life. It starts up, sputters and then goes dormant for another day, weeks, months. The spark gets dulled by never ending housework, by continued renovations of a new old house.  My muse ignored, for the day to day needs of my new little family. 

Now I would never take back the newest changes in my life.  Right now, everything that's the hardest work are the best parts of my life. (Motherhood anyone?) But I would like to bring back some of what hasn't changed for me.  I still want to write.  And I still want to blog.

So I sit here with pen in hand (Original post written on back of junk mail earlier today) and I begin what is to be my next chapter in this life.  Where I am both mother, wife, home renovator and writer.  Where I learn how to balance these jobs because frankly I need to be all those things to keep my life a good life--a wanted life for me and my family.

Today, I come back to my blog very much a work in progress, still.  I have missed being here with all of you.  I miss being inspired and challenged by your own works and comments made regarding my own.  I regret not visiting often.  I hope to find all of you well and your endeavors continuing on and I look forward to being apart of your worlds again. 

Nicole Nicholson Murray, WIP 

 

While I was gone...

Let's see. (index to lips in great concentration)
Since the last time I tapped keys in this neighborhood Jim and I visited this place again...
Yep, Jim's folks on the Big Island were and are still doing fine in the Aloha State. I took this pic across the street from their condo the last night we were there. As always, there were no loss of beautiful memories to be had or gorgeous days to enjoy those 3 weeks. And it was a wonderful place for a Baby Moon (wiggles brows). But, FYI: Air flight while pregnant can be and truly was a bitch! I'm sure I will find a way to get that experience in here one of these days. All experiences have their use when one is a writer, right? Right? And it was just sooooo dang fun I'll have to share... :-P

And then this Spring Jim and I bought a house in preparation of our growing little family. Behold yet another room under construction (below). This is good but frustrating, but mostly really really good thing. Because with each wall of plastic, nail struck, floor refinished, each treasure found and personal touch placed in our new old house, makes it even more our home. And not the neglected red headed stepchild (and it was red when we bought it) of the neighborhood that it will soon not be. I knew my addiction to HGTV would save me some day...

And then exactly one week after moving in--I want you to think towers of unpacked boxes, dusty cobwebs yet un-mastered and barely a bedroom to sleep in--we had James. Nearly 9 pounds, 22 inches. James Alan Murray was born healthy and happy on May 24th.

And now...

My Man and my little man just the other day in front of the tube. Jim was teaching James the fine art of channel surfing at the time. Lord, in the short time that little monkey has been in my life I have learned so much more than I could have ever guessed about parenting--hell, about life. No talent for empathy prepared me for feeling what its really like to be a parent. I don't think I could love another human being more...and I love his Daddy a considerable amount.

I had said that my son would be my best WIP. The truth is, he is his own WIP and I am so much a WIP still.

As for WIP's, Ghost Mountain is still a go, although it had stalled for a bit, due to EVERYTHING!!!! I have started this again...

And not just writing, but sketching again, home repair and decorative project making again. I still have a pile of boxes in the third bedroom where Salvaged Beauty will begin again, so no jewelry at this time. But it will come.

And with my creative self finding its way back again, my socially active self has been making its way around. Slowly I make contact with old friends and soon I hope to attend a writing group session again. And while I dip a toe or two into the waters of my small social pond, my mind has already been taking dips into the much bigger pond--our nation and the world.

A anniversary solidified my need to voice some long held opinions. 9-11 and those days that followed to be exact. I remember that day, a decade ago like most. I was working a double at my old job as a mental health worker. We had a small TV in our office. The Today Show was on while I went over the log entries from the day before. And then I heard something that caught my attention--Matt Lauer reporting on some plane hitting one of the World Trade Towers. Something similar had happened many years ago. In 1945 a B-25 Bomber smacked into the Empire State building. A horrible accident. But this day.... As soon as I watched a second plane do the same to the second tower, I knew what I had seen was a act of terrorism. I had never felt so angry or hyper aware than I did that day in front of that small TV, side by side with staff and half the clients stable enough in the building to do so.

When the next day came I was still angry, still raw from what I had bore witness to on live TV. But I could sense something else in me as the day drug on with each new bit of horrifying footage from all 3 sites. This thing swelled in me. A protectiveness, a patriotism, a pride grew in me while I watched those who had come out of the dust or those brave enough to travel into it, band together in the rubble strewn streets of Manhattan, the defiled home of our military in DC and that scared field just outside a small town in PA. For the first time in my life I saw what I knew my America was capable of. What my grandparents always reminisced. A America that didn't hold into account your sex, religion, race, or economical place when the shit hit the fan. You were a human being in need of help and that was all that mattered. We were all in it together. We were Americans. I just wish it hadn't took 9-11 to remind people of that.

And now--oh how times have changed and not at all how I would have imagined or hoped. I remember who we were those hard horrible days, months, years. I see the good and feel the pride of being a American still, but something has changed. Something wrong floats in the air and I want to help air it out if it still can be. How will I do this, I am still figuring on. I know it may be wise to keep some sort of separation between my writing and jewelry biz self and my inner politico. Maybe I can find a way to do that on Blogger? But after all that has gone on these last few years, I need to get a few things off my chest and out into blogisphere.

So, I am back. There will be some changes here and there, but I am still me--a eccentric, hopeful WIP.

Sunday Musings From Under the Steps: A Quiet Gift

I think this article said it all for me this week...

A Quiet Gift

WIP Wednesday/Sunday Musing: A Quote...

...life is much more manageable when thought of as a scavenger hunt as opposed to a surprise party.

~~~Jimmy Buffett

Allthough, I must say "surprise party" usally means a great plot twist in the WIP world