Wednesday, January 30, 2013

History of Previous Two Posts (and a kind reminder!)

So, really, I haven't the foggiest what to post here, but I want to write something, so write something I shall!  Long, it shall not be though. The other day I posted two short stories that I entered into flash fiction contests (with no winners)  and the first was Faces in the Wall at Ms. Elise Valente's blog ( ) and that was based on an ACTUAL dream I had once.. yes. Really. :P   And the second one was Dorm Ghosts, posted by Elena Jacob, at  -- It's a true story sort of (with a few liberties) from actually MY first year in college, when I stayed in the dorms during Thanksgiving break and had some VERY creepy scary moments and combined with stories I half remembered over the years :)    I hope you enjoyed... There will be another coming up very shortly, which I hope you also enjoy.. Feel free to comment and I'm sorry this isn't longer but I'm tired and it's a work night (i almost said school night hahahhaa)  And I do desperately wish to finish Mr. Penumbra's 24 Hour Bookstore.. It's good so far, if a bit peculiar :P   Sleep calls. 

Have a beautiful night, everyone...  Step outside and breathe the night air :)  (or day.. whatever time it may be ;) )

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Dorm Ghosts - Flash Fic Story by Danica Rice (of course?)

“Dorm Ghosts” – Flash Fiction Ghost Story

Written by Danica Rice.  

It was Thanksgiving week, and Shondra was alone in the dorms. Everybody had gone home for the break, and she honestly didn’t care that she was all alone for the week, because it would allow her valuable time to read some recreational books for once. Being a college freshman didn’t exactly offer much time for recreational activities. Although, goodness knows, her friends certainly found the time! But they were all home with their families for the holidays. It would be the very first Thanksgiving she had ever spent alone.  Much less all alone in a dorm.  Though, she had everything she needed, and unlike everyone else, she hadn’t needed to pack in the last few days, so she could just sit back and watch everyone ELSE panic doing laundry or stuffing dirty clothes in their suitcases and agonizing over what books or movies or games to take home. She laughed as she looked around her dorm room, everything comfortably in its own space.  It was late at night, everyone having gone home hours ago, and now she realized she was hungry and with some quick mental math as to the hours on the clock and her ingrained knowledge of the dormitory meal places, quickly realized she was out of luck everywhere except for the vending machine in A level, the basement.
She let herself out the heavy automatically locking door and stopped in her tracks, the lights in the hallway, normally bright were dark.  In the distance, a single solitary light fixture blinked and flickered. Ensuring her door was locked, she walked, as usual into the lobby, those lights also flickered ominously.  Raising her eyebrows, an open doorway down the other hallway caught her attention. Nobody was on this floor except for herself and one RA who split hours between his girlfriend’s room and his, and she remembered he’d confided in her that he’d likely be with his girl all week, and even had her room number if she absolutely needed him. So, she was entirely and completely alone on this floor.  Yet, a door stood ajar. She got closer, and noticed it was more than just ajar, it was completely open. A quick glance down to the bottom of the door revealed that the heavy door was not wedged in any way, but rather freestanding by itself, the room beyond darkened. She felt almost certain she knew the person who lived there and knew that they wouldn’t appreciate their door being left open, so she looked from side to side and quickly scurried towards the door and yanked it closed before anyone could see her, though she knew rationally no one would.  She turned and approached the elevator as soon as she was confident the door was closing.  She heard it click closed, the familiar sound echoing through the corridor.  Reassured that no one’s belongings would go missing that night, she reached towards the elevator button to call it to her floor, but before she could push it, the doors slid eerily open.  In the middle of the metallic elevator was…. a garbage can.
Given how alone she knew she was in the dorms, with only a handful of people willing to sacrifice their vacations to monitor, well, her, and maybe five other students who had nothing better to do on their holiday.  Now that she thought about it, the garbage can was likely a prank pulled off by some of the other bored kids.  Immature too, she rolled her eyes and entered the elevator with the garbage can, pressing “A” for the basement.
Once there, she stepped off, taking her time deciding what she wanted from the vending machines.  Moments passed as she waited for her soda and sandwich to dispense, when suddenly, all of the lights in the basement went pitch black, except for the eerie glow of the soda machine she stood in front of, so she knew it wasn’t a power outage, likewise with the elevator’s sign glowing.  Only moments later, all the lights came back on and all was normal.  Thoroughly creeped out, she reached for the button to once again call the elevator, and, once more, the same elevator appeared without her button press, sliding open to reveal, this time, a chair exactly in the same spot as the garbage can had been.  Holding her breath she pushed the 6th floor button, hurriedly a sprint towards her RA’s girlfriend’s room, pounding at the door.
A few moments later, her very groggy RA opened the door querulous expression on his face seeing her there.  She took several shallow breaths and finally the entire terrifying story came tumbling out of her mouth.
A smirk began playing at the corners of her RA’s mouth as he said, her story completed, “Is that all?”   Her eyebrows shot up as if to say “All!?”
He nodded.  “Yep. It’s common knowledge. There was a suicide a few years ago, a couple of them actually. On our floor. One guy jumped off the roof, and the other actually was a rape and murder, somebody threw the poor girl off the roof. Since then, they’ve locked the roof, nobody can go up there now, not even staff.”  Gaping at him, the RA chuckled at her, saying “Yup, Ellingson is haunted. The ghosts don’t come out unless NOBODY is here.  Now, good night!” and shut the door in her face.
Deciding to take the stairs back to her room on the 12th floor, she couldn’t help but notice the door to the roof was ajar.

Faces In The Wall - Flash Fic Story by Danica Rice (naturally!)

Faces In The Wall
By Danica M. Rice

      It was a standard rest stop bathroom with three stalls, all available. They were all metallic brownish gold in color, quite an ugly color, she considered as she walked in, the paint was peeling, revealing the patchy equally ugly grey underneath. This was undoubtedly from multiple people slamming, thrusting them open or closed, in a sadly desperate hurry to avoid soiling themselves. Then again, it might only be from age and sheer neglect. She paid little to no attention to what appeared to be a standard rest stop bathroom..That was, until she entered the handicapped stall. There, she blindly walked to the toilet, focused more on her impending and urgent need to urinate, rather than the bricks to her right, spanning the entire wall.

            However, there was a particular reason she should have paid attention. Soon, she would find this out. Busy doing her “business” she started, hearing a strained, guttural, gravelly voice “Heeeelp us...”  Whipping her head about to the door, convinced some psycho had appeared, she ran to the door, pants halfway pulled up, and, peering through the cracks, saw nothing, opened, and again nothing. Slowly, she turned back towards the toilet, her fingers clutching her pants closed.
            From there it came, her eyes met with a grimy face, or what she could see of one pressed up against where a brick was missing from that brick wall. The eyes were a haunting pale blue, the saddest she'd ever seen. Another voice spoke, this one smooth, a Southern accent, yet tortured, “Please ma'am, you gotta help us...” her eyes widened as she saw the source five bricks to the left of the first, a black man, equally dirty, tears sliding a path through the dust and grime caking his cheeks. Anguished, yet another tore through the silence that had temporarily lapsed. “I can't DO THIS anymore!! I swear, milord!”  She looked up, about ten bricks above the black man was a gaunt man's face with a pair of broken spectacles hanging from his nose, his anguished scream now devolving into tortured sobs. 
            Practically falling in her scramble to zip her pants, she looked from face to pitiful face, horrified, the sobbing, cries, and begging escalated to nothing less of a cacophany. Bewildered, terrified, utterly panicked, she ran, coward  that she was. She ran.  Ran out of the stall as fast as she could, those poor voices echoing in her mind for the rest of her life.
            Gasping, she sat bolt upright in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. 
            A dream. Or was it? It didn't matter. She still heard them. Every night.
            Not surprisingly, she never went near a brick wall again. Nor a rest stop bathroom.

Friday, January 4, 2013

Hanging By A Thread...

Hello everyone...  I've been going through a breakup of my relationship of the past four years and three months, and I just wrote a poem of the things I'm's the first thing I've written in about two weeks.... I'm still extremely raw and i think this poem shows it...  Long and short of it, it was a long distance relationship and it just couldn't work as it exists.. maybe someday it'll return, but irregardless of what happens in the future, i need to move on.. and this is how I've been feeling...I hope you enjoy for this is an extremely raw open look at myself.

Hanging by a thread... 

My threadbare soul speaks rivers
To the soul of the pain, the heartbreak that I feel
The jagged peaks of my heart stab through my chest
And somehow there's just one solitary
thread.... stringing out from one of those gaps, one of those bleeding holes
The thread holds strong, yet it wavers, protesting under the strain of the mind.

The mind revolts, whirling and whipping that single thread.
The thread protests, saying I can't take it anymore. The thread begs permission to break.
The mind fights and fights
Yelling to itself,
Don't You Dare Break.... Don't break.

Because if you break, nothing else will make sense,
Nothingness will consume her life.
Nothingness will consume her heart, giving the heartbreak permission to win.

Breaking is not an option.
Yet, the thread expands and contracts, as experiences test its strength,
Strength that neither brain nor heart knew it had.

The whirling dervish that is taking over the heart and stomach and mind
Contorts the heart,
Makes the stomach flip and flop, nausea overruling
The uncried tears sliding down the throat like fingers on a chalkboard, giving her
A painful sore throat that only drink can cure.
Apple cider, soda, juice, nothing quite heals the pain-- sinuses raking her throat.

The thread revolts, a memory seeps through her closed eyes, his face a broken dream
Formerly so comfortable, now so deadly.
Her eyes fly open and the thread tugs, that face vivid, tears leak, unwelcomed.

Her soul feels empty, the thread feels as if its the last bit existing.
If that soul, the thread, breaks, nothingness will eat her alive.

Her body aches, her mind aches, the fight eternal, the fight somewhat...

Hanging by a thread, she grabs the closest thing she can find.
Friends arms, the table, her cat, a book.
Squeezing her eyes shut, shaking her head free of the persistent memory, fighting against that desire to break.

Breaking is not an option.
Breaking means she lost herself
Breaking is not an option
Because she is not done living.

Thursday, December 20, 2012

Status Changes - Poem by Danica Rice

Here's a poem I just randomly wrote with absolutely NO forward thought, NO preparation, heart, mind and soul to the page. Hell, I haven't even re-read it.  I hope you enjoy.

Status Changes

Status changes this world
Through the ages everyone breathes the living things
That surround all of us, heaven and nature sing together
In one as one being. The strength of themselves apparent
Through any and all their fights they come prepared.
We watch, golden in opportunities, blackened in spirit.

The creation of the world crosses unspeakable paths
Through every bridge, broken or no
For humanity's bridges are our world, our people
Connections speak to our hearts, minds, bodies and souls

How can it be, souls never exist without that brokenness?
The bridges close those gaps, build ties that cannot be shattered in the most torn of days
The lives we share with our creations and our Creator unique to ourselves

Our minds speak throughout our creativity.
None can mute the other without the splice of understanding
One another's status changes, from writer to musician, poet to artist, banker to park ranger.
Single, married, divorced.
Deaf Hearing, Hard Of Hearing, Blind
We are whole.

You are too.

Friday, December 14, 2012

Book Review: This I Know: Sarah's Confession by Reba Ponder Weiss

Goooooooooooooood evening, folks! I know, rather depressing day to be called good. But I have a new blog post for you all today... This is going to be a review of Reba Ponder Weiss's book called "This I Know: Sarah's Confession"  but first before I begin, I would of course like to pay some homage to the tragedy that befell our shores today, that of Newtown Connecticut.  It's truly a tragic event, and I hope that we can all remember that in the aftermath of this terrible thing. Above all, parents lost their children, and beautiful children lost their lives, and honestly that's what our main focus should be at this point, not anything else.  Now I'll get off my soapbox and step up on another one, for my very first review in this blog!

Now as for This I Know.. The first thing I'd probably like to mention is that it has it's good and bad points, just like any book.  I will be painfully honest, not mincing words, but at the same time, hopefully i can illustrate some of the positive elements to the book as well.     Let me just say that this book is very much a religious themed one. It begins rather innocuously, but very quickly takes you upon a very dark and twisty path that ends in apocalyptic form.  The ending of the book was what i shall call "disturbing" and typically I don't like disturbing books, I'll be honest. I'm a fan of the neat and tidy all-bows-tied in a knot bit.  But it was a thought provoking book.  However, the biggest beef i have with this book is that the author obviously did not hire a professional editor. The writing was in very many places, frankly, pretty choppy and repetitive. I found myself paying attention more to the choppiness of the dialogue and movement of the characters while I was reading....  I think this story could have EXCELLED with a certain audience, IF it had been properly copy and content edited. In the beginning, through the end a lot of times, there were commas where i felt there shouldn't be, and no commas where I felt there should be, and often quotes were placed opposite where they should be for instance, "blahblahblah  "he said.   instead of "blahblahblah," he said.  In the book, the quotation marks were facing the wrong direction as well when the above instances occurred. There were quite a few typos and inconsistencies in terms of ways things were spelled (frantically versus franticly).  I think much much closer attention could have been paid.  There were highlights in terms of the stirring descriptions of some of the processes, things that happened. It was overall inconsistent, sometimes the writing would be great, and I would read through it like I should for a normal book, but other times I found myself playing the "critic" editing as i went, rather than enjoying the story which was sad.

Theme wise, I think this book had very strong opinions and strong perspectives from a Christian point of view, and while I am personally a Baptist in faith, I am also a very liberal, free spirited one, and pushiness in faith don't normally sit well with me. This book obviously had a very strong message, which became much more obvious towards the end.. I think this book might be suited for a church group to read together to discuss the deeper meanings and perspectives that the characters had, perhaps even the symbolism behind some of the characters, notably Suzanne, Lash, Clyde, Sarah, etc so forth, in relating to the Bible and what it teaches.

There were a lot of deeper messages and honestly some very creepy, disturbing parts involving the roles and power shifts and ultimately what happens in the cave...  When I started reading it after the group went into the cave, I was thinking "ugh this is going to turn into the Donner Party type of thing" and yes, it did, but I give the writer great compliments on how she handled it, it was very very tastefully done, but still just disturbing enough for the story line as it stood.

I just realized that I've rambled on about the story and technical things, but haven't detailed the story in brief...  Basically, the story starts with the idyllic planning of a large family for a wedding and quickly descends into a maelstrom of natural disasters akin to Hurricane Sandy and that like.. I found that part pretty disturbing as well because i thought it went rather too in depth, given the recent storm, but i realize this book was probably written much longer ago than that... But still, it just felt a bit overdone, perhaps.  Anyway, Clyde, the ex-husband of the mother of the groom was there, and for a long time he's been viewed as the "kook" in the family, as he claimed to hear the voice of God.  Everyone understandably thinks he's nuts. That is, until the storm comes rolling in, and it becomes quite obvious that they need to take cover, and quickly. And Clyde comes to the rescue, having a cave all preapred for the group and gives some very compelling arguments as to why they should join him. Eventually, they do, and they get there, and there's some very good writing in the scenes up until they enter the cave, including a stampede of animals and some fast thinking on one of the main men's part (a truck rearending the entrance for purpose of getting food out of the truck).  Things begin to eventually turn sour as the group devises a constitution of sorts, according to Clyde's voices, which everything he's said, has come true so far...  they pick leaders, so on and so forth... It really becomes very involved...  but ultimately, things take a turn for the worse...... Whether they get out or not, is for you to find out.    I will say though, while the story was a good one, the writing wasn't that great in places, and the typos really should have been fixed... If the author decides to rerelease, I'd encourage she hire a professional editor, and that would make the book that much WORLDS better.  If you enjoy religious and apocalyptic, dark stories about family and deeper messages about good and evil, you'll like this.  I honestly still can't decide if I liked it... I liked it enough to where I'll recommend it, provided you prepare yourself.. I know I wasn't, but I still enjoyed it, with the distractions of periods of poor writing and typos, but it was overall decently told.  

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask in the comments :) :)  

Monday, December 10, 2012

Writing A Bridge to...?

Hello there, everyone!!   My name, new friends, is Danica Rice, and I'm a writer, author, and now, a blogger!  A good way for me to begin this blog would, I'd imagine, be to tell you all a bit about myself and share the reason why I named this blog what I did!   "Writing a Bridge" means a great deal of things to me. It came to me as I strove to think of a blog title, because really, my goal is to build a bridge of all sorts, bridging the gaps between many different types of people. First, a fact that is absolutely core and central to my identity, is the fact that I am, in fact, profoundly Deaf. You may wonder why I capitalize Deaf..... I will be happy to elaborate on that point later, as it's another post in itself, I reckon!  But, yes, I am. As far as we know, I've been Deaf since birth.  Please, don't feel sorry for me.... Deafness is part of who I am, my identity, and I welcome it, as if I weren't Deaf, I wouldn't have met the many amazing people who have moved and shaped my life to be what it is today. Not to mention the awesome Deaf friends I've met, who otherwise I would very likely not know!  Most especially (shout out?!?) Stacey Head, Holly Hartman and Diedre Tubb, the most motley crew of Deafies I grew up with...  I'll have to tell you stories about them all later..... (Die, Stace and Hollster, be afraid, be very afraid ;-)  I kid....or do I?!)   

I digress..  I've loved writing ever since I was a kid.. Though when I was a kid, I said I hated it.. Why? My hand always hurt!  That was in the days before computers populated classrooms and we were forced to use such archaic measures as pen and paper... Oh the torture! ;)    Anyway, back to the goal of what this blog is all about...  My goal is to eventually become a published author, so therefore, I'd like to create a bridge between my currently unpublished status, and my future published status!  That, and I strongly stand for and believe in the importance of words and communication... that is born of many things, not limited to my love for reading, but also, the communication barriers I've confronted on a daily basis, being Deaf!  My parents have always said things like "your writing will create a bridge between the hearing and the Deaf worlds.." for, they truly are different worlds... but yet, Deafness is not so different.  As a famous role model in the Deaf community once said, "The only thing the Deaf cannot do, is hear."  That is SO true.  Nothing makes us any different than hearing folks, except that one solitary fact.  So my writing, I hope to create that bridge between the two worlds and hopefully help you understand me, and what Deafness is all about a bit better.. but I also wish to create a bridge between writers and readers.... For they are undoubtedly linked.... There may even, arguably, be already a bridge existent there, but I think part of my goal here will be to share my thoughts of varying books and my life as a lifelong reader, and how that's affected me as a writer....

Connections, they're constant. Everywhere you turn, there are connections.  Your mind even forms connections and relationships without your even thinking about it!  It's a crazy thing how humans associate things that cause them pain, with other things.... all because of the way our minds work... Cats and dogs don't think that way...... They simply learn by doing and experiencing.  Us humans are indelibly marked by what painful and joyful experiences we have...  Therefore, if we don't figure out a way to accept those challenges and relational thinking associated with the negative in life, well, that just means that we can't experience joy.  Isn't that sad?  Our minds are focused on fixing the problem which is "why do i keep thinking negative thigns, why do i think about so and so boyfriend or girlfriend?" .... and the brain tries to solve it... but the brain just can't solve emotions...  Crazy isn't it?   My therapist gave me this book that talks about this... maybe I'll go into more detail later, but this is my first post, I don't want you all to think I'm nuts!?    (Book-  Get Out of Your Mind And Into Your Life)

Ahem....  Now where was I? Connections?  Obviously a bridge is a connection and I am hoping and dreaming that by writing, I will meet some people who will join me in this journey as I attempt to build this bridge.... by writing about writing, life, books, love, anything and everything.  I hope you'll help me along this journey by joining me as I write a bridge from my soul to your hearts. 

See ya next time :D