Photo by Zachary DeBottis /pexels

The following is part three of a short story of mystery and imagination written by Stan Worthy.

That question got me thinking…who was I, really? And how could I have gotten in so deep into this underworld, into this netherworld galaxy of gangsters. “I’m calling his bluff. He ain’t gonna shoot her. She’s too fine. She’s just too pretty to shoot. Besides, he’s a wimp! Look at him. He’s shaking!” The bowling ball inched closer.

Louisa yelled. ” Stop! What are you doing? I don’t want to take any chances! The gun ain’t up to your head! ”

I was running out of options. And he was right to call my bluff about shooting her. But that didn’t mean that I wasn’t willing to shoot one of them. “Just keep moving closer and see what happens.” I tried to use the deepest bass voice my vocal cords would allow. It was so deep that it seemed all of that bass must’ve traveled through my arm and caused the gun to shake even more.

Louisa had picked up how nervous I was. I felt this sharp elbow into my side and the gun dropped out of my hand. I quickly picked it up. I aimed it figuring I would at least take one of them out. Pulled the trigger three times and all I heard was, CLICK, CLICK, CLICK. All I remembered was a foot kicking the gun out of my hand, followed by more kicks and punches. Then total darkness.

This is how it started for me, in  total darkness. I was use to the dark, to the quiet. When it was dark and quiet it seemed as if I had time to think more clearly about things. My body was one big pain from my head to my feet. They must’ve repeatedly kicked me in the head because it felt like one big mass of mush. Like it was ready to explode. My eyes were swollen slits that I could barely open. But it didn’t matter anyway. What could I see? It was dark.

And what’s this, ‘DAMN! I CAN’T MOVE MY HANDS OR MY FEET!’ My hands and feet were bound with duck tape. Sure enough it was dark and I couldn’t see but my brain was still working and all I kept hearing was that, CLICK, CLICK, CLICK…an empty gun. What a fool I was. Now, I want to say that usually I’m respectful when it comes to women but that ‘Bitch’ had emptied my gun. She was holding an empty gun on me the whole time. What a sucker I was. But how could I have known?

My mind started doing gymnastics. Jumping from one thought to another. Although my body was hurting, I felt a warmth like I was wrapped in a blanket. I thought of being  in my mother’s womb, in the fetal position. I felt her love. I felt the safety and security she provided as she carried me around. I was her precious cargo. Just thinking about that allowed me to feel free for a moment, no hurt, no pain. Just free.

I always wanted to be a cop. I wanted to help and protect people in the neighborhood from the bad guys. When I was a kid we played cops and robbers. I always wanted to be the good guy, I wanted to be the cop. My friends would say, ” You always want to be the good guy. It’s your turn to be the bad guy. It’s your turn to be the robber.”  Some of my friends could play the bad guy, the robber, a lot better than me. They were naturals. But they also wanted a turn to be the ‘ GOOD’ guy every now and then.

I can remember the ones who liked playing the robber a little bit too much.  They got a real kick out playing the bad guy. Some went on to be juvenile delinquents always staying in trouble. My mother told me to stay away from my bad friends. I guess she didn’t want the badness to rub off on me as if it were something contagious like a cold.

But sometimes the BAD can turn GOOD and the GOOD can turn BAD. Some of the bad kids were able to grow out of it and turn there lives around. Some ended up either going into the military, to college, and even becoming cops and some of the good kids later became dope heads and did things that landed them in prison. It was life. Life on life terms.

Sometimes you have to play the hand you’re dealt. Or the hand you deal to yourself. That’s why I never liked games of chance like dice or cards. I didn’t like not knowing. I had to be in control. But now things had gotten out of control.

The pain that shot through my body snapped me back to the present. Where was I? It was dark. My hands and feet were duck taped. I was in the fetal position. I could barely move. I had this claustrophobic feeling…

Suddenly I felt a bump that made my whole body jump as if I were a mere rag doll. Then I knew…

I WAS CARGO! I WAS IN THE TRUNK OF A CAR!!!

The post COP’S EYES 3 appeared first on Department of Poetic License.

We are sure you have heard of the phrase, ‘a picture is worth a thousand words.’ So, does that mean one word is worth one thousandth of a picture. Perhaps. If the journey of walking a mile begins with the first step; then writing one thousand words begins with the first one.

photo by Pixabay

Now this may sound absurd but the only goal we really want to achieve with this blog is to write ONE THOUSAND WORDS.  That’s it. We don’t really want to teach you  anything. We don’t want to educate you. We just want you to read further.  Sounds rather selfish, doesn’t it? But if you read this without having any expectations, then you just might get something out of it. What? Only you will know.  So let’s see where this journey takes us.

Many years ago, when I was in my mid-twenties, I was a member of an improvisation performance group called, the Improv Poets. The founder of the group was a rather eccentric, cosmic and lovely woman named Ludmilla.  Ludmilla had acted in an off Broadway play when she was younger (she was twenty or so years older than us) with the legendary actress Claudette Colbert. She actually had a picture of the two of them rehearsing a scene.

If there was ever someone who was an example of RAW,  ‘in your face’ creativity, Ludmilla was it. We took our raw improvisation performances to many different venues including bars. Basically, any place that would accommodate us. It was Ludmilla’s idea that we rip pages from a thesaurus and arbitrarily hand them to members of the audience. Whoever she picked was allowed to pick any word off of the page. Then we would perform based off of that word.

I Don’t mean to sound like a ‘Trekey’, but these performances took me to places I had never gone before.  We fed off of each other’s energy. I would spout off  words, any words that came to mind, while another members (one guy was an actor) would act out as if we were doing a play and Ludmilla would dance. She had the build of a little ballerina. One of the things I found most amazing was how she would just stop dancing and stood still like a mummy for minutes at a time. And this was even before striking a pose was in ‘VOGUE’.

When the audience applauded at the end, I wasn’t quite sure if they actually liked it or just appreciated the fact that we had the guts to do something like that-especially IN FRONT OF PEOPLE. Either way, when I heard them clapping, it was enough for me, my prayers were answered.

Half way there already. My how time flies.

Getting back to Ludmilla. This petite woman (who was originally from Ukraine) was not only fascinating to me but she also had a commanding presence.  Her accent never completely left her and when she spoke she elongated her vowels in such a way that every word would linger in the air as if in a bubble. She taught us how to also use silence and stillness as part of the performance. It wasn’t necessary to move and talk all the time; you can still make a statement.  She taught us that sometimes less is more. One time I summoned enough courage to ask her, “how can you stand there and do nothing for so long?”  “Oh but I am doing something-I’M BREATHING.”

Like in the movie, Forest Gump, ” life is a box of chocolate. You never know what you’re going to get.”  The DPL is like a box of chocolate. Each blog is its own entity. We’re like literary rebels who sometimes break the rules. Rebels with a cause. Whether we write in the first or second person our focus is to be THOUGHT PROVOKING, INSPIRING, MOTIVATING AND ENTERTAINING. We have incorporated hyperlinks to magnify the experience. So if a post has a blue hyperlink please click on it. We want you to get the full experience.

We want you to continue to have a sweet tooth and read as if you are eating a box of chocolate. You can even take a bite off of each one, put it in the back in the box, go back and finish it later. Please feel free to share. There is plenty of chocolate to go around.

Our goal is give each writing a life of its own. This blog format allows us to make changes. So, it is possible that the next time you go back and read again, it could be slightly changed or tweaked. That’s the beauty of this blog format, unlike print.

If you are reading this blog for the first time you may wonder, ‘why isn’t he talking more about poetry.’  Although I do consider myself a poet and a writer, but by not holding the reins so tightly, the DPL has morphed into what it is.

We feel creativity is like water. It is pliable and takes the shape of whatever container it is poured into. It can also, when frozen, become a solid: ice.  But it is still water. In Whatever form we may appear, our primary focus always comes back to writing. We want to be an inspiration.

So, don’t hold on to those reins so tight. Keep your mind open. Loosen that grip. RELA X. Let it flow. SMILE.   A smile   can be worth more than a thousand words. Your smile has the power to light up a room and connect with people without saying a single word. You may not have anything to smile about but smile anyway.  You might be thinking. Why does it matter whether I smile or not? I’m wearing a mask (during the pandemic) so people don’t know whether I’m smiling or not. Smile  anyway. We don’t always have to see it, to feel it https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xyHoohNyYkw

We started writing this post not knowing what to write about. Our only goal was to write a thousand words and here we are. Just about there…

If you feel the need and have enough time to count and make sure we reached our goal. Well, that means you have a lot of time on your hands. Which means you certainly have time to write… so pick up that pen or tap at that keyboard and GET ‘ER DONE!

REMEMBER. THE JOURNEY TO A THOUSAND WORDS BEGINS WITH WRITING THE FIRST ONE.

The post ONE THOUSAND WORDS appeared first on Department of Poetic License.

This aerial view  shows how massive and powerful hurricanes can be. Over and over again some of us have witnessed their nefarious and destructive nature. When looking at it from this vantage point it seems as if it is some sort of ominous entity with water and wind swirling over a hundred miles an hour heading toward land as those who are in its predicted  path abandon their neighborhoods and homes to survive.

It doesn’t matter what human name a hurricane is christened. We never want to make its acquaintance. We never want to be up close and personal. It is not a welcoming situation to be on a first name basis with something or someone whom you know is trying to kill you.

At the center of these massive storms is what is known as the eye of the hurricane, the center. It is where the most calm weather is found, usually about twenty to forty feet in diameter. It is surrounded by the eye wall, a ring of towering thunderstorms where the most severe weather and highest winds occur. The eye is so calm because the strong surface winds that converge towards the center never reach it.

Sometimes our lives can be like a hurricane. A whirl wind of confusion, destruction and chaos.It is true that bad things happen to good people who don’t deserve it. And sometimes the storms  can be of our own making because we either place ourselves in negative and stressful situations, and around negative or stressful people. As long as you’re giving ( whether it’s your time, energy or money ) you’ll never have a problem finding a taker. Self preservation is important. And although we can’t always avoid  negative or stressful situations or people;  we can do our best to find the EYE. That place of calm and peacefulness.

However, if those dark storms keep following you wherever you go. You might want to ask yourself, “Am I the problem?” ” How much am I playing a part in this chaos and confusion? ” Yet sometimes the best poems and writings can be born from these bad experiences, the chaos and confusion. We may need to write about that pain in order to heal and move forward.  Life isn’t always a bed of roses. What we’re  saying is that there is enough pain and misery out there for everyone and sometimes whether we what it to or not it finds us. We certainly don’t have to go looking for it.

STEP INTO THE LIGHT OF POSITIVE THINKING.  Surround yourself with positive like minded people. Be the light house on the shore so that others can see the light in you. Perhaps your light will help them to be able to navigate and also find that eye of the hurricane. This is an easier, softer and better way to live. It doesn’t mean that your life will be problem free. But at least you will have more energy for yourself rather than giving your focus and energy over to negative people or things that aren’t worthy of it.

FOCUS ON WHAT YOU WANT

Keep writing. Keep creating. Keep yourself mentally, physically and spiritually fit. Eat right, exercise, hydrate (drink water), and get proper rest. And read positive articles and books. There is a wealth of information and other people who have a positive message on the internet. We hope you will continue to read this blog. If you’re looking for negativity you won’t find it here at the DPL. But if you’re looking for some shelter from the storm, some positive reinforcement then come on in, dry yourself off, relax and have no worries because…

WE’II ALWAYS LEAVE A LIGHT ON FOR YOU.

The post The Eye of a Hurricane appeared first on Department of Poetic License.