Good morning and Happy Thursday! I’m listening to raindrops tap dance on the roof as I type up this post. And I’m delighted to share that Editor, Manuela Timofte at Gobblers by Masticadores is featuring my short story today, “She Sleeps.” I’m always grateful to have my writing published on her esteemed site. So thank you again, Manuela, for your generosity and kindness. ❤️
She Sleeps
An eerie high-pitched note whirls around in young Becky’s mind as she sleeps. The howling is earsplitting, wailing just outside her window, imitating a music score in a horror film. Not that she would know because she isn’t old enough to watch scary movies, but her six-year-old imagination tells her so. The trees fall into a trance like a spell has been cast upon them. Rocking back and forth, their branches bend in unnatural ways, the tips like long, pointed fingernails scratching on the double-paned window. The howling grates on her brain like a fork scraping a plate. Raindrops pound with anger. Becky tosses and turns. She fights to stay asleep. Subconsciously, she remembers Beauty and the Beast on the wall above her headboard, the best musical ever, and how she adores Belle. She’s carried to a happy place, slowing falling back into a deep slumber, but only temporarily…
To read the full story, please click on the link below. And if you’re unfamiliar with Manuela’s site, I hope you’ll take time to peruse the various pieces of wonderful writing.
Lauren Scott Author – King Copper: Our dog’s life in poetry Author – Cora’s Quest (a children’s book) Author – Ever So Gently: A Collection of Poetry Author – More than Coffee: Memories of Verse and Prose Author – Finding a Balance: A Collection of Poetry Author – New Day, New Dreams: A Collection of Poetry Co-Author – Tranquility: An Anthology of Haiku Co-Author – Petals of Haiku: An Anthology Co-Author – This Is How We Grow Co-Author – Poetry Treasures 2: Relationships Bi-Monthly Contributor on Gobblers by Masticadores Spillwords Author of the Month May 2023 Spillwords Publication of the Month October 2024 Spillwords Publication of the Month June 2025
An eerie high-pitched note whirls around in young Becky’s mind as she sleeps. The howling is earsplitting, wailing just outside her window, imitating a music score in a horror film. Not that she would know because she isn’t old enough to watch scary movies, but her six-year-old imagination tells her so. The trees fall into a trance like a spell has been cast upon them. Rocking back and forth, their branches bend in unnatural ways, the tips like long, pointed fingernails scratching on the double-paned window. The howling grates on her brain like a fork scraping a plate. Raindrops pound with anger. Becky tosses and turns. She fights to stay asleep. Subconsciously, she remembers Beauty and the Beast on the wall above her headboard, the best musical ever, and how she adores Belle. She’s carried to a happy place, slowing falling back into a deep slumber, but only temporarily…
The scratching escalates, faster and wilder! The wailing blares louder than fire sirens! With eyes scrunched closed, Becky covers her ears with both hands, hoping to mute the terror. She no longer tosses and turns because her body is paralyzed by fear. She can’t even move an inch, but she has to get out of bed! It’s coming for her! It will shatter her window and climb inside! Her legs may as well be blocks of cement, but with all her might, she swings her left leg over the side of her twin-sized bed, then her right leg. She is sitting up now but has to run! No time to waste! No time for shoes! Her bare feet must carry her down the hallway to save her parents! Suddenly, Becky hears glass shatter, shards scatter on her bubblegum pink comforter! She flies off her mattress, her legs sprinting out of the room!
For a second, Becky closes her eyes while her legs move at marathon speed, the hallway never seemed so long. And just when she reaches her parent’s doorway, arms bind around her tightly in boa fashion, squeezing the air from her lungs.
“Let me go! Let me go!” She screams loud enough to shake the roof! Her arms and legs fling sporadically, fighting off the huge monster with pointy fingernails!
“Becky, it’s Mom, wake up!” Linda gently shakes her daughter, sitting on the edge of her bed. Belle and the Beast watch from the lilac wall.
“Mom! It’s coming for us! We have to get Dad! We have to leave, now!”
“Oh, sweetheart, you had a nightmare. It’s storming outside, but the three of us are safe in the house. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“Oh, Mom, I was so scared! I hate the wind!” Becky manages through erratic sobs, hugging her mother, never wanting to let go.
“I don’t like it either,” Linda hugs her daughter back, loving the feel of her little girl safe in her arms. “But just close your eyes and know that Dad and I will protect you.”
And just like that, consoled by her mom, Becky lets go and rolls over onto her right side – exhaustion from the excitement finally kicking in. Her eyelids slowly close. Linda sits for a few minutes, watching her beautiful daughter fall into a peaceful sleep. Her blonde hair cascading across the fluffy pillow. Then Linda gently kisses her daughter on the forehead and quietly steps out of the room, but the earsplitting howling perpetuates. The storm isn’t due to pass for another ten hours.
Click on my daughter’s image to order your copy! 🧡
Lauren Scott Author – King Copper: Our dog’s life in poetry Author – Cora’s Quest (a children’s book) Author – Ever So Gently: A Collection of Poetry Author – More than Coffee: Memories of Verse and Prose Author – Finding a Balance: A Collection of Poetry Author – New Day, New Dreams: A Collection of Poetry Co-Author – Tranquility: An Anthology of Haiku Co-Author – Petals of Haiku: An Anthology Co-Author – This Is How We Grow Co-Author – Poetry Treasures 2: Relationships Bi-Monthly Contributor on Gobblers by Masticadores Spillwords Author of the Month May 2023 Spillwords Publication of the Month October 2024 Spillwords Publication of the Month June 2025
Clinking of pots and pans echoes throughout the house. I sit on my bed, leaning against the pine headboard while Mom’s busy in the kitchen getting dinner ready. Dad will walk through the door any minute sporting his huge smile, happy to see his family after a long day’s work. I miss my brother, Jack, who moved out last August for his first year in college. The house is quiet without him pushing my buttons. He was really good at teasing his younger sister! Now that he’s not here, my heart has a big hole in it, and the void triggers my negative head space. My back slides down the headboard, taking my mood with it. Suddenly, I can hear my grandma say, “You shouldn’t slouch, dear.” My mind drifts about life: everything I love and hate. I know hate is a strong word, but it’s the word that fits. I love my family; it’s me I have a problem with. When I first heard the Taylor Swift song, “The Outside” I felt as though she wrote the lyrics for me.
Dad recently accepted a job in this small town. He told Mom that it would benefit his banking career and would be a good change from the big city for all of us. She supported him, so I had to move. After all, I’m a minor. The bummer is that I’m a new student at the high school in the middle of my junior year. Not easy for a sixteen-year-old, but I forgive my parents. Maybe I’m more mature than other teenagers. Sometimes parents have their reasons for doing things and kids will never get it. Most of the time, mine are cool, so I try to understand their decision – even if this move has been awkward for me.
When I’m on campus, I feel like a weed in a garden of roses. Acne is so annoying, and my body is the bane of my existence. My parents thought I was cute when I was a chubby, little girl. But cute isn’t what I see staring at me in the mirror. My long, auburn hair, and blue eyes that change to green are the only things I like about myself. I need to lose a few pounds too. The current culture is no body-shaming, but kids do it anyway because some kids are jerks, boys and girls!
I’m just not a pretty girl on campus, and I don’t care if I’m pretty or not, but being judged makes me feel uncomfortable. I turn a corner in the hall and there’s another model-thin girl strolling past me. It’s not like they didn’t exist back home in the big city, and pretty girls come in all shapes and sizes. Thin doesn’t mean perfect and thin doesn’t always mean healthy.
So why do I feel unsure about myself? One thing I’m sure of is that I miss the bright lights and energy buzzing through the streets of the big city, horns honking, and people walking fast in every direction with someplace important they need to be. I had three girlfriends back home, and a couple of boys who weren’t crushes, but cool to hang out with. All the kids in my inner circle accepted each other for who they were. The same insecurities lived with me, but the friends I made were more accepting. We’ve stayed in touch through texts, emails, and talking on the phone, but I wonder if our friendships will eventually fade. It’s hard when you can’t see each other in person. On campus, the perfect kids stare and laugh behind my back. Are these assumptions in my head? No, I couldn’t make up the staring and laughing. I know the difference between reality and imagination.
I tap on the calendar in my cell phone…three months, two weeks, and four days have passed since the big move across the state. Funny how it feels like a year! My finger hovers above the Facebook app, and I know it’s the wrong move. Stay away, I warn myself, but I don’t listen. I scroll through photos of my friends hanging out with other friends; they seem to mock me. Why don’t I delete my account? I really hate social media, which alone puts me in a different circle than most teens. I’m not one of those girls who likes to share meals, clothes, and fingernail polish. It’s so stupid!
“Emma, you need to just be yourself,” Mom reminds me. She and Dad drill the point across to not worry about what others think. “Try to put yourself out there to make friends, Em,” Dad says. Sure. No problem…in a new high school and new town. Easier said than done. I wonder if they’ve forgotten what it’s like to be young.
I close out the Facebook app as quickly as I opened it. If you ask me about popularity, it’s never been important. But I need to find my own group of friends. I want to belong. I want to find my own corner on campus. A patch of grass where I can park myself and talk with other girls or boys who like the things I do…cats, dogs, hiking, reading, writing, and listening to music. Can my peers overlook what my mirror shows me? Are my insecurities confusing my perspective? Time plays an important role in life – more wisdom from my parents. So, after more time passes, I may like this town. I may like the school. I may fit in. It’s hard to imagine, but I don’t feel it’s impossible.
Mom’s voice travels up the stairs like a pop song melody, telling me that dinner’s on the table. I can smell her spaghetti sauce. She is the best cook! The Italian aroma lifts my spirits as my stomach growls. I slide off my bed and hit the stairs running. Dad got home twenty minutes earlier, giving him and Mom time to catch up before I join them. We sit down at our oak dining table and they ask about my highs and lows. It’s a good way for them to understand what I’m going through. I can talk to them about anything. They have an open door policy, but there’s one thing I haven’t shared…
After dinner, I offer to do the dishes, but mom gives me the night off. I take the stairs two at a time back to my room. I pull my cat journal out of my desk drawer and slide into my usual spot on the bed, pushing my pillow up against the headboard and scooting back into it. My thoughts wander on the lined pages. It’s amazing how time flies when I’m reading a great book or writing. The sun begins to set. Darkness slowly falls outside my window. The bright moon winks at me through my shutters, and it’s comforting. Tomorrow is Friday. One more day at school before the weekend. I can make it. Wow, I feel tired, but my thoughts won’t sleep.
I think about how we used to go to church as a family. It’s been a few years since my parents became frustrated with some people in the congregation. Disheartened enough that they decided to step away from organized religion. I still say prayers though. Does God listen? I don’t know, but I always feel better afterwards. I’m sure it helps just getting the words out. Telling the universe about what makes me happy and anxious. And I always say what I’m grateful for – Mom and Dad who love me and who try their best, and Jack who I miss so much. I know how lucky I am.
Tonight is different though. I close my eyes, and I pray for something that I’ve never talked about. I didn’t want Mom and Dad to worry about me or feel bad about moving. So, tonight I pray for a friend, someone to laugh with. Someone to calm the negative thoughts spinning inside my mind. Parents can only help to a certain point. A friend will ease the awkwardness of moving to a strange town in the middle of high school. A friend will make me feel accepted. Just one friend. Can you hear me, God? Am I asking for too much? It’s not like I’m asking for two.
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Click on my daughter’s image to order your copy! 🧡
Author – King Copper: Our dog’s life in poetry Author – Cora’s Quest (a children’s book) Author – Ever So Gently: A Collection of Poetry Author – More than Coffee: Memories of Verse and Prose Author – Finding a Balance: A Collection of Poetry Author – New Day, New Dreams: A Collection of Poetry Co-Author – Tranquility: An Anthology of Haiku Co-Author – Petals of Haiku: An Anthology Co-Author – This Is How We Grow Co-Author – Poetry Treasures 2: Relationships Bi-Monthly Contributor at Gobblers by Masticadores Spillwords Author of the Month May 2023 Spillwords Publication of the Month October 2024 Spillwords Publication of the Month June 2025
This post honors all loving fathers who do their best ‘to be the best’ for their children. To begin with, for my husband, our fathers who have passed and are missed more than I can express in words, and to my brothers-in-law…The poem below was written about my husband, Matt, from my poetry collection, Ever So Gently.
Beneath the Big Golden Sun
He was their hero when they were young, teaching of nature beneath the big golden sun. They tried on their packs before feet hit the trail. He’d say, “Be prepared or else you could fail.”
The trio trekked down paths and up inclines too, pausing along the way to admire a flower or two. After arriving in camp, they helped pitch the tent, stakes in the ground, windows unzipped to vent.
As an Arborist, he educated them about trees under the blue sky beside the buzzing honeybees. They explored the ground seeking burrowing bugs. He expressed praise with words and loving hugs.
When the sun faded at the end of a day, they roasted marshmallows, found dominoes to play. His first goal was fun in nature, then came self-reliance. Their minds were like sponges, soaking up the science.
Now they reminisce for the best teacher he was and recall the bonding with the deepest of love. Now he’s proud of them, adulting and doing it well, honored with the memories, the special stories to tell.
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It’s always fun to take a walk down memory lane…
A younger FIL, who taught his son (Matt) about hiking and the great outdoors.
A fave of hubby and my dad after Mom passed.
My mom passed in 2012, Dad in 2017, and Wil (FIL) in 2023. I don’t know where the time has gone for life to continue without our parents. But like all loved ones who leave our earthly world, they live in our hearts. And the photos we have become more precious each day. It’s just that these special holidays that pay tribute to them are spent differently. I miss the noisy, family get-togethers. We’d gather at our house, or Mom and Dad’s, or one of my sister’s homes. Those days remain only vivid memories. My sisters live in So. Cal. And our son and daughter live in CO. and TN. so we won’t see them in person, but a video chat will sustain until the next plane flight.
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By the way,DNA doesn’t make a good father. Actions Speak Louder than words, as we’ve heard before. A biologically connected man who neglects his children isn’t a good dad. A great father is a man who is emotionally available and actively involved in a child’s life.
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SO HAPPY FATHER’S DAY TO THESE SPECIAL MEN IN MY LIFE AND TO ALL THE FATHERS AROUND THE GLOBE! MAY YOU HAVE A FABULOUS CELEBRATION! 🎉
“The greatest gift a father could give to his children is his time.”
Enjoy your weekend, and Thanks for stopping by! I appreciate you! ❤️
The conversation turned heavy discussing God’s existence, then noticing the time, my husband opened the door to retrieve our dinner, Grub Hub, don’t judge, a Friday convenience! Then a moth slipped in quietly, adroitly, wearing lime green and milky white. It landed on a nearby chair, and my husband spoke, “Is it you, Mom? It’s been 33 years, and we still miss you so much.” The moth lifted from the cloth rising up into the air, gliding out the door from which it came. It was Diane. We believe. Her entrance was timely, so perhaps, a reminder. We gave tears freedom. We know they’ll revisit because the many used up calendars over the years are irrelevant. His world was shattered too soon, but the events of that day are as vivid as yesterday’s sunset. Funny, how a little moth on its own special journey lifted our spirits that evening.
I am pleased to announce that my poem, “Reconnected” is published on Gobblers by Masticadores! A huge Thank you to Manuela Timofte for believing in me enough to share my work each month. I am truly grateful! 🙏🩷
A snippet of the poem…
He had just entered the world his body tiny and delicate a bundle needing to be loved His skin darker than theirs but this made no difference Joy danced in their hearts when he became family
but with each passing birthday the skin color confused him…
This poem is my sister and brother-in-law’s story. They were married 52 years ago, and when they wanted to start their family, they found out that they couldn’t have children. So, they adopted their two boys. This is the story of their first son, my nephew. It is a story of unconditional love and wanting to provide a loving, safe home for a precious baby who needed one. I would be thrilled if you visited Gobblers to show your love on their site and to read the full poem. You can find the poem here.
It was just another day at the county fair. Everything looked the same. Vendors gathered in their dedicated spots. The music venue sat under the white canopy by the pond that never changes location.
Henna ink has lightened – the faded hummingbird no longer reminds me of Mom, the wolf, incognito, but the memory shines like the glimmering pond…
Chatter and laughter echo around the zooming roller coasters, high-flying swings, and games that will eagerly take your dollar bills. Feathered spectators compete in the distance, but their melodies as faint as clouds drifting in the sky. Soft tacos satisfy our palates under a waterfall of sunshine as we observe parents walking by with their children wearing cotton candy smiles. Nothing brings more joy than cheering on the trio of piglets racing around the track. Their curly tails in view past the finish line!
What a delightful visual the lively grounds present from the revolving Ferris Wheel. I grab my cell for photos of him with the crowd’s energy buzzing in the background. He entertains me with these photo ops, knowing how much I love documenting precious moments. The ride pauses with our bucket at the top while others climb in below for their trip around the moon – our fingertips almost touch the vast blue. I am surprised by the vacancy of butterflies in my stomach.
It was just another day at the county fair. Everything looked the same, except… this day was time spent with my adult son – he would soon embark on a cross-country adventure. So, a Sunday of togetherness while enjoying the county fair landscape proved to be anything but the same, and was indeed different in the very best way – worth more than any materialistic possession I could ever own.
It’s that ‘limerick’ time again, and I had fun writing this collection for the day created especially for moms! I hope you find them delightful, but a couple are less delightful and more factual. Enjoy!
Unselfish
She is a classy, lovely mother Who puts herself last behind others Their care comes first Health, hunger, or thirst They love her – daughter and brother.
Summer
How special to become a mother Devoted but not to smother To love and raise Till the end of her days Mothers are the essence of summer!
Special Day
The special day comes every year But not all hold their mothers dear Words that criticize Make tears leak from eyes Sad those hearts didn’t hold their babes near
Smiles and Giggles
What a miracle to be a mom Caring for babes with a heart of calm Relish in their smiles And giggles heard for miles Music to a mother’s ear, a balm.
Not Fragile
Mothers are an exceptional class Their work ethic no one can surpass Cooking and cleaning Diapering and weaning They are strong, not fragile like glass!
Warrior Soul
Caring for her children is her role Keeping them safe and happy is her goal A multitasker Sought after Her skills are plenty, a warrior soul!
DNA
DNA does not a mother make DNA may produce a mother fake Who only thinks of herself Baby’s needs on the shelf Baby’s life unimportant and at stake.
Flair
A mother’s talents are exhaustible But clearly, they are not implausible Many balls in the air She juggles with flair Her demeanor is surely laudable!
Golden Worth
A mother’s love comes from her heart That blooms and glows right from the start Cradling at birth A golden worth She’ll give her All to do her part!
Do you have a favorite or two? 😁 Happy Mother’s Day Weekend to all the loving and unselfish moms who have hearts of gold, and to the moms who have left our world, but who live in our hearts. I’m thinking of my mom and mother-in-law, Doris and Diane. 🩷🌷
Thank you for visiting, and I wish you a sunshiny weekend!❤️
My latest collection of poetry, touching on nature, love, and the mysteries of life that would make a great for any holiday! Click on the image for your copy. Thank you! 💚
Baydreamer Writes ~ Lauren Scott, Author 