Story in the works


I know that I haven’t been around much lately, but it looks as though my family and I are gearing up to have one crazy busy summer. Even though it’s not technically summer yet, but regardless things have been and are going to continue to be hectic. We’ve got relatives here so it hasn’t allowed for much time to sit down and write a blog post, nor to post any new short stories or songs. However you will be happy to discover that I have one story in the works, although I don’t know when I will be posting it, I am hoping for soon but don’t quote me on that.

It does feel good to be writing a blog post, I think this is my third post this month; which is a tad bit unusual for me. But at least I’m letting you know why and you won’t assume that I am MIA. I’ll try to post as well as read your blogs as often as possible even if it’s just to say hello, however for now I’d best be posting and going.

I’ll see you all soon,

Chelsea

My Childhood home


A fellow blogger and friend inspired me to write this post today, so thanks to Ste J at http://bookmust.wordpress.com for the nudge.

While growing up in Colorado there was beauty to beheld every time you’d direct your point of view toward the west.

I miss seeing this view because no matter where I’ve been a view such as this can’t be beaten. In a sense I forgot how lucky I was to see this view every day; the view of a pretty town mixed in with a breathtaking backdrop of the Rocky Mountains. It was amazing, and it made recall something that I did as often as possible before I moved from Colorado. Every day for a few moments I would stop whatever I was doing and stare at that Rocky backdrop.

History of the Rocky Mountains 

Via Wikipedia at http://wikipedia.org/wiki/rocky_mountains

Rocky mountains

The Rocky Mountains, commonly known as the Rockies, are a major mountain range in western North America. The Rocky Mountains stretch more than 3,000 miles (4,830 km) from the northernmost part of British Columbia, in western Canada, toNew Mexico, in the southwestern United States. Within the North American Cordillera, the Rockies are somewhat distinct from the Pacific Coast Ranges and the Cascade Range and Sierra Nevada which all lie further to the west.

The Rocky Mountains were initially formed from 80 million to 55 million years ago during the Laramide orogeny, in which a number of plates began to slide underneath the North American plate. The angle of subduction was shallow, resulting in a broad belt of mountains running down western North America. Since then, further tectonic activity and erosion by glaciers have sculpted the Rockies into dramatic peaks and valleys. At the end of the last ice age, humans started to inhabit the mountain range. After Europeans, such as Sir Alexander Mackenzie and Americans, such as the Lewis and Clark expedition, started to explore the range, minerals and furs drove the initial economic exploitation of the mountains, although the range itself never became densely populated.

Adventures in the Rockies

When I was a child camping trips were always a must do summer event for my family, unless there were wildfires up in the mountain where we’d camp out, but usually we were always able to make camp up at Redfeather.

The drive up excited me, especially as we drew closer to the mountains, I remember watching them go from a distant blue. Then as we drove closer, the mountains would come into frame perfectly enough where you could see all of the pine trees, slopes, and valleys; it was as if a photograph was developing right before my very eyes. It was a sight that will forever be etched into my memory.

When we found the place that we’d call our campsite, we’d setup and then immediately after finishing setting the site, my family and I had to explore the surrounding area. This would be when we’d find the best hiking trails, lakes for fishing, or rock climbing areas. One thing was definitely certain by nightfall we were beat and more than likely we usually slept like hibernating bears throughout the night. By the time we packed up and were ready to head home; I would always be the person who was covered in band-aids, because I had either stumbled, fallen, scraped, ran into, stepped on, or had gotten myself into some sort of trouble. Now that I think back on our adventures I’m surprised that I didn’t break any bones, or worse. They were fun camping trips though, no matter what incident had come my way.  My only regret is that I wish we had taken photos during our camping trips.

The Rockies home sweet home

I do also recall during the drives up to Redfeather seeing these mountain homes and thinking, man I’d love to live in the mountains when I get older. Now that I’m older I’ve reconsidered that idea because there are too many risks, and I might as well be honest here, I was a born and bred city girl, who relies on having shopping centers close by.

Wedding Bells

Though I’ll never live in the mountains I do plan on one day getting married in the mountains, now that gay marriage is legal in Colorado. I can’t deny that it would make for a beautiful wedding album, although I should probably have the woman lined up first.

Colorado was a great place to grow up in though, because there was always something to do, or some place new to explore. There was never a dull moment in my childhood home.

Photos courtesy of http://yahoo.com

Fit into the mold


At first I thought this idea would be perfectly suited for a short story to post on the blog, but now that I’ve sat down and typed out the idea, it seems like it’s destined to be larger than a short story. What are your thoughts?

If I were granted the opportunity I would like to see life at full-term. My birth was unconventional; therefore I was expected not to be ordinary, because of my survival everyone has always expected me to be extraordinary. However lately I’ve been thinking what would have happened had I been carried to full-term? Would I have been considered ordinary, or is my destiny sealed to be nothing short of extraordinary?

The Night Show with Jerry Nicks


(The stage lights brighten and the Jazz band, to the far left of the stage begin to play a bit of smooth jazz, as Jerry Nicks enters the stage, and steps onto his mark, with the spotlight shining on him.)

I watch from the monitor backstage, sweating nervously, awaiting to go on.

He grins widely, showing off his bucktoothed smile, waving to the audience.

Jerry: Hello and thank you very much for that very warm welcome. I’d like to send it all right back to you so.

(A crewman wheels a rack of winter coats over to Jerry. Jerry pulls a coat from the rack; grinning his bucktoothed smile once more.)

Jerry: Here’s a warm gift from me to you; Columbus finest winter coat.

(A round of laugher spreads through the audience like wildfire.)

Jerry: We have a great show for you tonight; we’ll begin with an interview from a new writer with a very interesting voice, Chelsea Brown.

(The audience applauds.)

Jerry: No seriously this woman’s voice sounds like that of a teenage girl, and she’s twenty-five. There must be something in the water in Massachusetts that I need to start drinking, get back to that twenty-something voice I use to have.

(The audience laughs, and applauds.)

Jerry: But seriously, she’s young, she looks a lot younger than twenty-five, but she does have a unique voice for a new writer, and I’d like you all to welcome Ms Brown. Chelsea.

I walk out from backstage, hearing a nice round of applause; as I greet Mr Jerry Nicks.

Jerry: It’s great to have you here; doesn’t she look good for twenty-five folks?

I hear screams and whistles as Jerry and I take our seats.

Jerry: So you’re the first writer that we’ve had on the show.

I smile and nod.

Jerry: You seemed to have gotten a pretty good response from the audience.

Me: Yeah I was surprised; you’d expect that more from a movie star, or pop star, than a writer.

Jerry: Well your book is being well received.

I smile.

Me: It is.

Jerry: Did that sock you at all or did you know, sort like having a sixth sense?

I shift around in the chair.

Me: No, not at all. As a writer you have to expect rejection, while at the same time believing in the story that you’re writing. You basically live on hope.

Jerry: So did you hope for this amount of success?

Me: I don’t think that any writer out there would or even does. You hope to make a living at what you do, and if you do one day see your book on store bookshelves, you consider yourself very lucky.

Jerry: Well you’ve certainly been lucky, and have managed to stay very humble. I like to see that in a guest.

Me: Thank you.

Jerry: Are you working on anything now?

Me: I’m working with a few different ideas, but nothing solid as of yet.

(Jerry nods.)

Jerry: I’ve heard that you treat writing like an actual nine to five job, is that true or a rumor?

Me: It’s true, I find that I am more disciplined if I can sit myself down Monday through Friday and write for several hours.

Jerry: That’s interesting, how much writing would you say that you get done, usually?

Me: If I can write at least one thousand to two thousand words a day, I’d call it a good day’s work.

Jerry: What happens when you can’t seem to write?

Me: If I get writer’s block, I get very distracted.

Jerry: How so?

Me: Well I start out by trying to think up some ideas and usually after an hour goes by I can be found sitting in front of my laptop, staring at the screen, watching the cursor blink.

(Jerry, along with the audience, laughs.)

Me: Seriously my girlfriend will come into my office and say how’s the writing going? I say, without taking my eyes from the screen… Shh! Babe, the cursor’s up to two thousand blinks, two thousand one, two thousand two.

(Jerry and the audience laugh.)

Jerry: Who knew watching a cursor could be so entertaining?

(Audience laughs.)

Jerry: What do you do when watching the cursor becomes boring?

I smile and wiggle around in the chair.

Me: Spin around in my chair; I actually broke my favorite desk lamp last week by doing that.

(Jerry and the audience laugh.)

Me: When I’ve gotten good a dizzy then I play pin the tail on the donkey.

More laughter echoes in my ears.

Jerry: Okay, do you have any techniques; in which you’ll use to make yourself focus on writing if you’re too tired to write?

Me: Coffee is my go to, but I have to monitor my intake very carefully.

Jerry: Why is that?

I smile.

Me: Well… IF I HAVE TOO MUCH CAFFEINE I JUST HAVE THIS OVERWHELMING NEED TO RUN AROUND IN CIRCLES!

I get up from the chair and run around in a circle, then sit back down, with the audience ROFL.

Jerry: No wonder the audience likes you, you’re crazy funny.

I smile.

Jerry: Alright I have one last question for before the break.

Me: Shoot.

Jerry: Where did you get your inspiration for the book, Fill in the Blank_?

Me: I draw from life and my own personal experience.

Jerry: Excellent, well we’ll be right be after this, thank you Chelsea for joining us, it’s been a pleasure.

Jerry and I stand up and shake hands, as the jazz band once again begins to play, then I exit stage right, with more applause echoing in my ears.

Belated Celebrations!


I am so glad that I’m actually sitting down to write a post, it’s been awhile. First off I’d like to wish everyone a Happy belated Easter, my apologizes for not doing so yesterday; things got a bit hectic. My family and I actually had a lovely Easter Sunday; which is not to say that we haven’t in previous years, but this year was wonderful. We enjoyed the company of family friends and had loads of delicious food; (which I’ve probably gone up 2 pant sizes from indulging in,) but hey it was a holiday and I could always work it off. Yes the holiday was great, but today I’m celebrating something very close to my heart, which is also a belated celebration, but a celebration nonetheless.

3 Year Anniversary Achievement

As of April 4th 2015 I have officially been apart of the WordPress community for three years. Whoa! There was a time where I wondered whether or not I’d last one, but three years, 1,095 days. So crazy. I’d just like to thank all of you, those of you who read my blog, (especially those who read almost every post.) Those who have lent a hand of helpful writing advice, those who comment and press the Like button. To those who subscribe (Special discounts for members who have followed two years or more!) But also thanks to the amazing blogs and bloggers that I’ve gotten to know and love; you guys are the best inspiration.

Here’s to another year in blogging.

I am not a Speaker


Chelsea Brown:

Words that we can relate to.

Originally posted on Progressing Through Life:

write-fullEDIT

I don’t speak very well, but I can surely write.

What I mean by that is I may not use the most clear or concise words to articulate a well thought out sentence in person.  My mind is just not wired that way.

However, like my earthly father, I am a writer.  Now, I am not worthy of any award or Pulitzer Prize and I may have grammatical errors galore in my writing or even a tad of nonsense language, but either way, I can better articulate my thoughts and ideas through prose than speech.

View original 251 more words

Guardian


Phoebe struggled to attach the leash to Shadow; her silly yellow lab, as he wiggled and shook his head. “Relax shadow, hold still for a moment,” Phoebe requested. He shook his head vigorously. “Sit! Hold still!” She commanded. He sat, with his tail wagging back and forth on the floor. “Thank you.” She attached his leash and he ran to the door, letting out two loud barks. “Alright, I know, we’re going.” Shadow put his nose to the ground, sniffing the sidewalk as they walked. They turned onto Chestnut Road; which lay just off of Muddson Street, where they resided. At 9AM Chestnut was already paraded with people and traffic, Phoebe stopped on several occasions to allow Shadow to lift his leg. “Yikes boy, you know we’ve still got a ways to go, no need to stop to pee on every bush, tree, and rock that you see.” As they were walking past The Java House, a regular greeted them. “Well lookie what we have here, how are you two doing on this fine morning?” asked George. “Hey George, we’re doing just fine, aren’t we boy?” Shadow wagged and barked. George looked at his plate; he placed it on the ground, allowing Shadow to lick up the crumbs from his poppy-seed bagel. He laughed as he watched the dog lick at the plate. “Every day, I’ll tell you, he’s no fool. He knows what’s coming.” Phoebe giggled. “Oh yeah, he looks forward to walking by here, well we’ll see you tomorrow George.” He smiled, “Bye you two.”

They walked another half mile down Chestnut Road, until the road forked, leading them straight onto Washington Drive. Shadow’s tail began to wag with more excitement than Phoebe had seen since she woke up. “We’re almost there fella.” She could see the turnoff to the dog park in the distance, but as they got closer to the turnoff, Phoebe could also see what looked to be the silhouette of a man walking in their direction. She stopped to retracted Shadow’s leash, so that he’d stick tightly to her, as they passed by each other; however as they approached the man, he stopped, squatting to the ground, he then stuck out his hand. Phoebe, felt a tad uneasy, but had little time to mull it over in her head; Shadow took off in a sprint, pulling her so hard that she could feel the leash unraveling from her hand, and almost evade her grip. Shadow stopped so suddenly that Phoebe stumbled, she knew that she was about to go over the top of him. Her muscles locked and she prepared for impact, when she felt a hand pull her back. “Whoa there, almost had a nasty spill there didn’t we?” She looked back to find the man who had stopped to pet Shadow standing behind her. “Yes, thank you for assisting me.” She looked at the man feeling extremely confused, wasn’t he just squatting in front of Shadow a second ago? Everything seemed to happen so fast. How could he have possibly moved so quickly? She was at a loss for words; quickly she tried to pull them from her mind. “Umm, I’m sorry; I think I may be a little disoriented.” She paused. “But, weren’t you just squatting in front of me, petting my dog?” He smiled at her, warmly. “Oh yeah, I was about to pet your dog, but then I noticed that you were in trouble so I just reacted.” Phoebe studied the man’s answer for a moment. “Huh? Well you were very quick.” The man smiled at her once again. “I have good reflexes.” Phoebe looked at the man closely; he looked older, possibly to be in his early to mid-seventies. A man his age couldn’t possibly have reflexes that react that quickly, could he? “Well thanks again,” she said, deciding to let it go. “You’re welcome.” He bent down, giving Shadow a pat on the head. “You should go easy on your mother there Shadow,” he said, as he scratched Shadow behind the ears.  His comment to the dog made her stop to think. “How’d you know my dog’s name?” He smiled at her once more. “I saw it on his collar, just before you began to stumble.” “Oh,” she said, feeling taken aback once more. “Well I’d best be off, nice talking with you.” He started walking, with his back to them. “You too,” said Phoebe, with a fog of confusion thick in her mind. Shadow let out a bark, and she was instantly brought back down to earth. “Okay I’m sorry we’re going.” They took off in a sprint toward the dog park, by the time Phoebe had reached the gate, her ribs ached and she was having a difficult time catching her breath. She took a moment once they were safely inside the gate, to inhale and exhale slowly, which seemed to make the aching in her ribs disappear, and also help her catch her breath. Once her breathing was back at a normal pace, she unhooked his leash. “Okay, go crazy and wear yourself out.” She watched Shadow from a picnic table, as he ran around with other dogs, and played tug of war with a piece of rope. A half an hour later she hooked up his leash, and began to walk him home.

Shadow plopped himself down on the sofa, after stopping at the water bowl to have a drink. Phoebe came in from the kitchen with a fresh bottle of water in hand, and noticed, as she took a slug, Shadow, lying on the couch, already fast asleep. She grabbed the blanket that always lay on the arm of the couch, neatly folded, and placed it over him. “You played hard this morning, didn’t you,” Shadow began to softly snore. “Sleep well,” she whispered. She let out a soft giggle; as her phone began to vibrate in her jean’s pocket, tickling her thigh. She looked briefly at the screen, then pressed accept. Her coworker Randy bellowed on the other end of the line. “Phoebe, where are you?” Her eyes darted from side to side, nervously. “What do you mean?” She could hear Randy moving through the restaurant on the other end, till finally the noise in the background had completely faded. “Aaron has you on the schedule today from 10:45 to closing.” Phoebe jumped into the air, she ran to throw on her uniform. “I thought I had today off,” she said, as she buttoned and zipped her khaki’s. “Mike and Liz called out sick, he left you messages.” She buttoned her shirt, and rummaged through her pockets, searching for her name tag. “Well tell him I’ll be there soon.” She clicked disconnect, slipped on her shoes, then grabbed her keys from the counter and stowed them away in her pocket.

Phoebe crossed Muddson and sprinted down Chestnut, praying to catch the number 52 before it left. She could just see it pulling over in the distance to allow passengers aboard. She ran fast, faster than she thought she could. She reached the bus, just as the driver was preparing to pull out. She banged on the side of the bus noisily; the driver opened the door to let her on. “Sorry didn’t see ya,” he announced. “That’s alright.”

Phoebe arrived at The Downtown Bistro, wanting to sincerely apologize to her boss, though she felt that it would do little good. She knocked on Aaron’s office door, which was ajar. “Enter.” As Phoebe walked through the door, she saw a nasty look spread on Aaron’s face. His forehead vein was throbbing, as it usually did when he was angry at an employee. However she noticed that his face looked worse than she’d ever seen it before. His entire face was a fierce shade of red; which made it seem as though the flesh might very well melt from his face. She swallowed a big lump in her throat that took her remaining saliva from her mouth, which made her sound dehydrated as she spoke. “I’m sorry that I’m late sir, in the future I’ll be sure to keep my phone on next time so that I will hear it when it rings,” she said, trying to accumulate saliva. She began to sweat, expecting him to put her in her place, or possibly fire her. “I need someone to cover Liz’s hostess duties in the afternoon,” he began. “Then I also need someone to help cover Mike’s tables and wait on the customers, during the evening shift,” he looked at her spitefully. “The only reason I’m not going to fire you,” he paused, and then smiled at her, with a nasty grin. “Is because, I would like you to cover their shifts.” She exhaled, after holding her breath for a minute. “Not a problem sir, I would be happy to cover their shifts.” She smiled at him, wishing that she could instead flip him off. “Good,” he put his hand in his pocket, and dug out keys. “Since you’re working till closing, I’d like for you to lock up,” he said, as he tossed the ring of keys to her. “Okay,” she placed the keys inside her pocket. He nodded, “I have some business to attend to tomorrow morning. I hope that I can trust you to open up.” Phoebe fixed her face into, what she hoped to be a very serious look. “Sir, you can absolutely trust me.” He nodded, “Excellent, now get to work, we’ve got a long day ahead.” We, don’t you mean me? When Phoebe began her hosting duties there was already a line of people outside, waiting for the bistro to open. Oh lord, it’s going to be a long day. By the time the dinner shift came around Phoebe could feel blisters forming on her feet, she looked around at the tables before going over to wait on her first customers of the night, and knew that somebody would need to carry her home by the end of her second shift. At the end of the night her ankles had swollen and her feet were covered in bloody blisters. She went to her locker to change her shoes. Her blood covered socks stuck to her feet; she let out a yelp as she put on her sneakers. It took her a while to walk to the front of the restaurant, so that she could turn off the lights, and lock the doors to the Bistro. She once again, stowed keys into her pocket, then turned her attention to the parking lot; which was completely deserted. “Dammit; Chris you little shit! Oh yeah Phoebe, sure I’ll give you a lift home,” she said, mockingly, as she looked at her phone. It was just going on 12:30AM; she knew there were no buses running at this time of night. Reluctantly, she rummaged through her backpack, until she pulled out her pepper spray. She began to walk home with it balled up into her fist.

Except for seeing the occasional headlights from vehicles, as they passed by her on the road, there wasn’t a soul to be found. It’s not so bad, what was I expecting? Though she told herself, ‘it’s not so bad,’ her stomach was tangling itself into knots, and her nerves had become even more unsteady than, her job at The Downtown Bistro. I should just run the rest of the way home. It’s not that far, it would certainly be better than walking around town by myself, at this hour. Phoebe started to jog down the sidewalk, but felt a searing pain in her ankles, followed by an explosion of a blister. “AHH! Okay, bad idea, I have to take it easy.” I just need to stay calm; although heart began to beat a bit faster than usual. Later, as she crossed the road into an area that she knew, she loosened her grip on her can of pepper spray. The dog parked looked downright spooky at 1AM. I can’t believe that I was walking Shadow down this road earlier, it feels as if it were days ago. She felt another blister on the bottom of her left foot pop as she continued down the sidewalk, breathing in deeply, and holding her breath for the next few steps, then exhaling. She repeated the process until she’d finally become numb to the pain. Up ahead, a ways past the dog park she noticed a figure coming towards her, but was unsuccessful at making out its form. Her heart began to race, she debated whether or not she should continue toward the figure until she could make out who it is, or walk on the other side of the street. Her logical part of her brain took over, she crossed the road, but just as she’d begun to walk down the other sidewalk, from the corner of her eye she spotted the figure crossing the road over to her side. Finally she saw enough of a silhouette, in the overhead light of a street lamp, to realize that the mysterious figure was a man. Panic-stricken she pulled at the cap of her pepper Spray, but had pulled too quickly. Briefly she could see the can of pepper spray flying passed the light of the street lamp and then hear it land in the darkened gutter; she could hear the can rolling, followed by the sound of it dropping into the sewer. “No,” with that a tear rolled down Phoebe’s cheek, as the man approached her.

The man was large, and looked scarily grotesque in the minimal amount of light, provided by the street lamp. His face had a scar on it which was slit diagonally, from the left corner of his forehead down to his right cheek. She could smell a mixture of terrible body Oder and alcohol which were wafting from his pores. “Well, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing out and about at this hour?” he asked, in a slurred voice. Phoebe was petrified; she swallowed a large gulp in her throat. “You seem shy,” he lifted a finger, stroking her cheek. “Well don’t worry; I can be social enough for the both of us.” A charge of electricity surged through her body causing her leg fly backwards and then swiftly extended, hitting the target that she was seeking. The man grabbed his testicles, and fell to his knees, moaning, and hacking from the pain. Phoebe took off in a sprint shouting, “Help me!” She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, she had just crossed the road from Washington to Chestnut, when she felt a large, heavy mass, latch onto her shoulders, knocking her to the ground. Her hands hit the sidewalk, scraping against the cement, as her body was being pushed into the ground. The large, grotesque, man on top of her shouted into her ear, “Don’t you try that again bitch!” Tears streamed down Phoebe’s face, as she attempted to fight him off, but it did her little good, for he was too big. She mentally tried to prepare herself for what was to come; she could feel his hands on her waist. Her eyes were closed, and she began to tremble when she felt his hot breath on her neck. To her amazement she felt the weight of the man being lifted off of her. She scrambled to her feet to find another man holding the grotesque man up by his throat. He threw the man to the ground, but instead of the grotesque man a getting back on his feet, and fighting the other man, as Phoebe assumed he would, the man scrambled to his feet and ran away in the other direction. Phoebe was still in hysterics, her voice sounding terribly shaky, as she got out a, ‘thank you.’ The man finally turned to her; after feeling satisfied that the grotesque man had disappeared into the night.

Phoebe stood, staring shockingly at who she saw standing before her. “Aren’t you the man who,” “Who greeted you and your dog Shadow this morning nearby the dog park, yes I am.” Though her body was still in a state of shock and still trembling, her mind was going at a mile a minute. “How did, how did?” was all that she could manage to get out. The man simply smiled warmly at her, in the same way that he had this morning. “You needed help; I’m always around to help those who need it.” Phoebe gestured to him with a nod, unable to speak. “How about I walk you the rest of the way home? So that you can be with your dog and rest your feet.” Now she understood. The man who rescued her tonight and who had assisted her this morning was not only a warm, kind, and helpful soul, but he was also a guardian.