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 (http://elisevalente.blogspot.com ) 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  www.ravenhartassociates.com  -- 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 ;) )

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 6^th floor button, hurriedly exiting.at 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 12^th 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.

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 feeling...it'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...

Over.

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.