Snow Haiku

peaceful, quiet snow
melting like angels' magic
enchanting my soul

I got on a plane Was the wrong gate Must be insane for getting there late Flying aint easy security and lines crazy, hectic dizzy planes not on time. Instead of Italy landed in spain airport unfriendly went home on a train. Just want everyone to know...that we are taking bad stuff.

Writing by Kaitlin Gray

Here is another random story I wrote... enjoy:)

                She didn’t sing. Though, I knew she had every single word memorized by heart. She just sat silently, watching. Waiting. Glancing out the car window, she looked at Yard Sale signs and gas stations.

                Her lips are pursed in a stuck up manor. In her head, no thoughts appear but one: Whatever.

                They pull up the driveway, into the garage. There she turns from her mother without saying a word. Ignoring the patient waiting, the strain to hear an answer. Each one of them sits there, staring. Each one waits, but they only wait for something which is never to be heard. Never to be found.

                Her mother’s voice chimes in her head like a bell. She is speaking of a powerful word. A word the girl will never quite understand. Consequences.

                She opens the door abruptly as soon as the car comes to a stop. Whatever.

                One person understands her. One person out of a trillion. A needle in a haystack. Yet this person is inaccessible. Gone.

                Storming in the house, she throws off her shoes. Purposely, she slams the door. Hard and loud. Purposely she makes a mess of the shoes in the shoe basket. Purposely she does everything in her power to make her mom upset. She will get away with it; she is already in the deep.

                Stomping up the stairs she runs to her bedroom. Locks the door; hears the small click. This is the last place she has freedom. The last place she may find peace without… them. Nonetheless they are inescapable. This is why she comes here, locks the door.

                Her bed is unmade. Oh, what her mother would say if she saw it. She laughs, giving herself pleasure with the thought. Her laptop is open on her desk, a task remaining before her to be done. It is an option, an option where she can have the pleasure to escape. Where she can make anything happen, and everything goes her way. Though she simply stares, letting the task float above her head. What is it? What is the problem? Is she anxious? No, it is not anxiety that she feels. Rather it is regret, anger, frustration. So she cannot write? The girl does not understand the problem; just that it is there.

The girl sighs. Whatever. She turns one particular word around in her head. Plays with it, tries to find ways to make it backfire. There is no way. What can she do? Consequences.

                A knock hits her door. A woman, standing behind a barrier she cannot pass. She is trapped, but so is the girl. The girl ignores it, simply sitting at her desk staring at the open laptop. Not touching, looking. Admiring it’s beauty. It was a gift.

                She hears the woman walk away. She speaks words through the door before turning, but the girl tosses them away without listening. She does not care, what is the woman to her?

                She has a name: Mother. That is what she is to her.

                She disregards the thoughts of her, not to be rude but to prevent. There is a difference.

                The girl finishes her task, but not in the way it was meant to be done. She is meant to write, and she is as that is what she loves to do. But she does not write in the way she was meant to. She does not write a story; she writes a day. A day she only wishes she could take back, could relive. Yet, if given the chance, she only wonders if given a second chance she would do anything different. She only sits there, wondering.

                She reminds herself there is a way. There is one way to take back what she has done. One way, and that is through forgiveness.  But in the end, it never changes what has been done. People forgive, family forgives. That is what they are meant to do. But in the end, the consequences persist. The past is locked in stone, or rather locked in time. Although it can be forgiven, it can never be removed. Time itself may never be changed. She fears this. It is the truth.

                But she does not move. She sits still at her desk, wishing she could just scream off the feelings she feels, like her sister is doing now, just next door. But sadly, it isn’t that easy. Even if she forgives those who have wronged her, will those who she has wronged forgive her? It leaves her to wonder, and so she does not move. Does not turn and go down the stairs, giving her mother another chance. This is something she will later regret. She continues typing, for no apparent reason but to let off steam. There is other ways. Her sister merely screams. Her brother cries. Her father leaves. But she is different, she writes.

                Why? People ask. Why write?

                The girl wants to answer, but cannot. She can’t explain the power she feels when she reads something she has written. Something she realizes has potential. The answer is she has a gift. Everyone does. Hers is to write, and so that is what she does. She sits at her laptop and writes, though she should be doing something else. There is much more to do, but she writes. And this she will only regret, as the word appears again.

                Consequences.

The Sweaty Man

This one kind of goes with the prompt I just posted. It's a story I wrote a while back about going to somewhere new, and meeting a really strange person on the plane ride there. You guys could use this prompt, too. If you need inspiration... read on.

By Kaitlin Gray

                As I took my seat on my first plane to California, I noticed an unusually sweaty man seated to my left.

                We sat by each other in an awkward silence for a matter of minutes. As the wheels of the plane started to turn, and we began to lift off the ground, I felt my stomach do a turn and get the oddest little butterflies.

                After about 15 minutes of relaxing flying time, I pulled out a book from my carry-on bag. It was a long flight from Mobile, Alabama to Turlock, California… might as well enjoy it with a good book.

                The man looked over at me, and I could feel his beady eyes on me. Nervously, I pretended to read, even though the feeling of his eyes on me kept me from being able to concentrate. In fact, it was quite annoying. I set the book down and returned the stare.

                His eyes were cold and black, as if hiding from a dark secret. His face was pale and he was still sweating. I could tell something was on his mind, and I could tell he was afraid by his frightened expression. He looked down at the ground, and I remained examining his weary figure.

                “I know this is supposed to be a secret, but I absolutely must tell someone…” He said.

                I was taken aback by his comment, unable to meet his eyes. Why me? I didn’t even know this man… It was so strange a thing to say to an unfamiliar old lady such as I. He said it with such penance, a sigh escaping his lips more than once. I looked away from his whole figure, looking out the window and into the white fluffy clouds.

Turning back towards him I cleared my throat in a gesture as to say, “Continue.” He took a deep breath.

“It was 1974. The year I graduated with a Doctorate from college. I thought it was going to be the best day of my life. After all, I had just gotten married the week before and me and my wife were getting ready to leave on our honeymoon. We stayed for the ceremony… Oh, how proud she was of me.” His face darkened. “We were on our way home… she was laughing and hugging me… I was in such a great mood.” Tears began to fall from his deep sunken eyes. He lowered his head and buried it into his chest. I just listened.

“These men—these horrible, horrible men—they came for her.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, as if someone might be listening. “They took me. In all black at night, I had no idea they were even there. They held a gun to my back, though my wife couldn’t see. Told her… told her they wanted to congratulate me and interview me for a job. She was so happy for me… she went back to the car and allowed the men to bring me with them. Neither of us had any idea… I was so scared.” 

I couldn’t even begin to comprehend the value of what this man was telling me. A murder mystery… this is what I worked with every day. Still, I couldn’t believe what this man was doing… telling these things to a stranger. I didn’t know what to say, what to do. I just watched him as he cried so many doleful, bemoaning tears. I put my hand on his back, in a strange attempt to comfort the poor fellow.

“They told me…” He paused. It was hard to understand his whisper through his sobs, but I tried to be as attentive as possible in order to help this man. “They threatened me with my life. The one man, the tallest of the three, he told me my wife needed to die, and that I needed to kill her. They said I needed to make it look like a car crash. And if I didn’t kill her, they would kill me too.

“To ensure my survival, I played along. I didn’t want to die… I was too scared… I didn’t know what to do.”

He wept harder than ever now. I didn’t know what to do, or what more he would tell me. I was so shocked upon hearing this story, it was intriguing to me, although the involment of death made me sick to my stomach. It hit me then just who I was looking at; a murderer. A poor, pain stricken, abused murderer—but a killer none the less.

“So, I let her drive. I told her to drive me down the exact road they had told me to, made her stop at the exact light, and then…” he could barely move, let alone talk. I didn’t know when he would speak again, had no idea of the pains he was feeling. It was heart wrenching, and painful to see, and yet the story was one I couldn’t let go. “And then I shot her.” He spat the word out as if it were poison, and that word alone held so much agony it was unbearable. “I wrecked the car into the side of a building, got out and walked to the end of the road, and dropped the gun down a sewer at the end of the street. Upon returning to my car I drank a cup of beer as they had instructed, in order to sound like I was actually in a real car accident. I dialed 911 and told them my wife had fallen asleep at the wheel.”

I knew now that that was the end of his story. I was immobile; I couldn’t believe the surrealness of my situation. I had so many questions, I didn’t even know where to begin. I was starting to feel my company was rude, and I wanted to comfort the fatigued traveler. I started with the biggest question on my mind, unable to change the subject of the murder.

“Why are you telling me this?” It was the first thing I had said to him, and he was stunned by my sudden outburst. He looked up, however he just kept crying. His eyes were now pink as rubies; and they blazed like deep forests.

“You knew my wife, and I know you.”

My heart dropped and my arm felt like an anchor. My eyes got as wide as ever, and my jaw dropped a little. The shock must have shown on my face, as the man almost chuckled a little. Almost. My whole brain stopped entirely, and the questions from earlier dropped like flies.

“My wife was Chief Nish. As I believe, she was your partner for quite some time.”

I gasped, and immediately felt embarrassed as to how loud it was. Eyes started to glance toward me, and I began to slide down in my seat. The man wiped away his tears and sat up, as if nothing had happened. I looked out the window for a few minutes, and when I looked back the eyes had left our presence. I could tell the man had been in these kind of situations a lot, and he knew how to hide his emotions.

I remembered perfectly the last time I saw her. That was in 1974, like the man had said. It was 1995 now, over 21 years later. And yet, I still wondered about her. Now I knew.

She was the best cop I had ever met, and the most fun, bubbly person to work with. She had the most down-to-earth personality, and oh how pretty she was back in those days… I remember picking up the phone one day and hearing her husband talk on the phone. Even then, all that time ago, he held the same nervous qualities.

“Hello, Officer Stover. This is Melanie’s husband.”

“Oh, hey Stephen. How are you?”

“Melanie and I will be moving soon. She flew to Washington last night upon hearing that her father had died of a stroke. I just wanted you to know, she won’t be able to work for you anymore. She sends her regrets and wishes you and the team the best of luck, but she needs to be with family right now.” It was such a good lie, and a believable story. Yet, even then I had my doubts. He sounded too formal and nervous for truth. Back then, I figured it was because of the family tragedy. Now I knew otherwise.

“Well, do you need help packing? We’d love to come over and—“

“No. We’re fine. We didn’t have much stuff, you know. Plus, we were getting ready to move anyway so I have most of the stuff already—“

“Oh, by the way I forgot to ask about the honeymoon. How was it?”

“Oh. It was great. I’m in kind of a stressful situation right now, and I really do need to go.” He paused. “My, that’s Melanie now.”

“Okay well send her my deepest regrets, and let her know we are all thinking of her and sorry to see her go.” I said.

“Will do.” And then, he hung up.

It all made so much sense now… why no one ever heard from her again… the only thing was, how come the police were never informed of the crash?

I began to get worried, sweating myself a bit. How did he know it was me? How did he find me, here, right now? Why would he tell me all of this even though he knew who I was?

Three men in expensive looking black-suits walked down the aisle to talk to us. They must’ve gotten permission, as I didn’t see any flight attendants complaining.

“Read your book.” The man whispered, before picking up a magazine himself.

“How are you two doing this fine afternoon?” The tallest man said, in a very deep, intimidating voice. He gestured to give the man seated next to me a high-five, and as I looked through the corner of my eye, I saw them exchange a gun carefully hidden in the taller man’s sleeve.

“I—or should I say, we—just wanted to stop by and say hi. Haven’t seen you in forever, Stephen. Can’t believe we actually chanced to meet you here. Jeff, here, saw you when he got up to go to the bathroom. We decided to all come over and chat for a bit.”

“How ya been, Stevie?” The shortest of the three asked.

“Great, actually.” Stephen replied.

The tall one spoke again. “Well, we’d better get going before the flight attendants bite our heads off. We’re just…” He held up his pointer finger, pretending to count the rows of the plane. “… five rows down if you want to talk to us again later. After all, this is a pretty big plane.” He winked, nonchalantly. “Nice seeing you again, old chum.” He patted his back, hard I might add, before walking away.

He buried his head, once more, before letting out a deep sigh and another few minutes of tears.

“Did you see the gun?” He asked, fright evident in his voice.

“Yes.” I said, incapable to say anything more.

“They use me as their assassin. I have a parachute hidden in my carry on, as do those men. They are going to go shoot the pilot and the co-pilot right now. As the plane begins to crash toward the earth, I’m supposed to shoot you everywhere but the heart or the brain, so that you suffer worse than anyone else. You, as well as all the others, are supposed to die.”

“Why?” My voice was hardly a whisper, and now the fear was marked in my voice.

“They’re terrorists… who knows why? I ask them all the time, but they won’t tell me. I asked them that same question, that one word, when they told me to kill my wife. I just can’t believe I’m a part of them… I’m so evil.”

I didn’t know how to comfort him, not in the slightest.

“I want you to take the parachute, and I’ll go down will the others.” I didn’t want him to die, but I knew it would be a better fate than whatever those men would do to him. I also didn’t want to survive, and seem selfish by accepting the parachute, but when it was between life and death… I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

He reached underneath his seat, and took out the backpack carry-on with the parachute inside of it. He stretched forth his hand, and although my heart was pounding, I hesitantly took the backpack, unsure if he would change his mind and ask for it back. “You aren’t evil. You’re brave. Thank you, Stephen. Thank you.” After I had spoken, 4 gunshots rang heavy in the plane. Everyone went silent, and terror like never before masked each man, woman, and child’s face.

“Wait, but what about them?” I asked, insecure about Stephen’s future.

“They have already jumped out.” He breathed, as to not disturb the silence. “They said they would as soon as they took care of the captain.”

“How am I supposed to get out?”

“The same way they did. Jump out the door right next to the pilot’s quarters. It’s probably still open.”

I gave him a hug, and a kiss. He deserved it after the life he’d been through. I hopped into the aisle of the plane, with tears in my eyes. “I’ll bring your name justice, I promise. Those men will die if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Thank you.” Stephen said. And that’s the last thing I ever heard him say.

Writers prompt

Here is the writers prompt for this week:


You are on a plane to a new country, and as you think you are boarding the right plane you are so rushed you accidently go through the wrong door, into the wrong plane. What happens when you land in this different country? Who do you meet, and how do you get back?

Live Life

 Written by Kaitlin Gray

What if we died tomorrow, knowing only in our heads the life which we so unadventurously lived? What would happen when that tire so unforgiving, took our very last breath as his own? And when that happened, we lay motionless as our life ended, images of life running through our head; time we so unappreciatively wasted. Time is precious, you see, and without adventure treasurable time is lost.

Which is why we, as human beings, must do the total opposite of what people expect us to. We should live as rule breakers, not goody two shoes. Take chances. Face your fears; they will only make you more scared than you were in the first place. Sing tone-deaf in the shower. Laugh out loud, even when there is nothing to laugh about. Waste money on useless crap. Be scared. Tell the truth. Feel the pain of consequences. Yell at a jerk. Repent when you are done. Seek adventure in the short life you have to be adventurous.

So the answer is yes, my darling. Make mistakes, live life. Without doing so you are merely a ghost; undead, yet lifeless. There is no point to live if your life is filled with nothing out of the ordinary. So ask yourself the question, “what if I died tomorrow?” What would happen then? Would you be proud of the life you lived, or regretful of the dreams you didn’t chase? Never be penitent. You learn and grow with each choice you make. Each wrong choice is worth it. Don’t regret mistakes, for at the end of time you will realize those mistakes are what made you, well, you. Never be someone you’re not.

Life isn’t life without mistakes. Always remember, mistakes are adventure; and adventure is life.  Without adventure you would be dead.

You would die tomorrow.

“A ship in a harbor is safe, but that’s not why ships are built.”

“Take chances. Abandon all the rules. Ditch the recipe. Color outside the lines.”

         “A person who never made a mistake never tried anything new.”

“You cannot always wait for the perfect time. Sometimes you must dare to jump.”

“Take a chance. You never know what might happen.”

“Take a chance. Because you never know how absolutely perfect something might turn out to be.”

“If you get a chance, take it. If it changes your life, let it.”

“Doesn’t being scared let you know you are on to something important?”

“If we admit that human life can be ruled by reason, then all possibility of life is destroyed.”

“The worst mistake anyone can make is being too afraid to make one.”

“The only time you run out of chances is when you stop taking them.”

“If you don’t take the risk, you might as well have never lived at all. Don’t waste your time; TAKE CHANCES AND MAKE CHANGES. It’s what we were all made to do.”

“Her life improved dramatically when she decided to break the rules and find beauty where she had been told there was none.”

“Well behaved women rarely make history.”

“3 simple rules in life:

1.  If you don’t go after what you want, you’ll never have it.

2.  If you don’t ask, then the answer will always be no.

3.  If you don’t step forward, you will always be in the same place.”

“In this world, we have to take chances. Sometimes they’re worth it, sometimes they’re not. But I’m telling you now, you will never know until you try. “

Laughter bubbled up through her chest and into the tiny space that sheltered and protected her and her two furry, soft elephants. Sydney was hiding with her two favorite toys. The biggest one was purple and had two little black eyes, a long skinny tail and two raggedy ears that were barely as long as its' head. She called him Berry. the other was pink with a white chest and white tummy and ears so long and big that they went from its' head to its' toes. When she got it for her birthday her mom said it must be a cousin to dumbo because it had such big ears and so from then on she named it Zoe after her cousin. Mommy laughed when she told her. Mommie's can laugh at silly things. The three of them were hiding under her Mom and Dad's bed. They were playing Bear which was the favorite game she played with her daddy and her brother Lincoln. She could hear dad growling like a bear as he crawled down the hallway. He sounded so silly it made her laugh. It was very dark in her mom and dad's room and it could be scarey but she wasn't ever scared when she was around her daddy. He was big and strong and smiled a lot. She giggled again and daddy stopped growling. "I'm gonna get you." Daddy's growly voice came from just behind the bedroom door. Ah, oh, he must have heard her giggling. She didn't want to get caught first. Lincoln always won. He found really neat places to hide. Once he hid on the top shelf of the hall closet. Daddy didn't like it but he still won.Sydney really, really wanted to find a good hiding spot. She looked out from under the bed and could see the window. The moon shone through it. She could see the big tree. Its' branches nearly reached Mommy and Daddy's bedroom window. Lincoln had climbed it once. Sydney got so excited about winning that she didn't think about danger. She didn't remember what her mommy and daddy told her about climbing the tree. She didn't think about the fact that she had never climbed from the window to the tree. She just wanted to beat Lincoln. She left her purple elephant behind as she scrambled across the room to the window. She carried Zoe with her. She dragged her by her long floppy ear. The window was open. Sydney pushed on the screen and watched it pop out just like Mommy did when she cleaned the windows. Light came in through the bedroom door. "The bear is going to get you..." growled her daddy. Sydney crawled up on to the window just as daddy reached under the bed. He found only purple Berry all by himself. Daddy was surprised. Sydney never went anywhere without her bears. Then he heard a muffled cry. "Sydney" Daddy called in his regular voice. "Where are...." Just then daddy looked over at the window. He saw it was open and he only two tiny hands clinging to the window sill. In one tiny hand was Zoe's pink and white ear. Daddy jumped up and ran to the windown. He pulled Sydney to safety just as her tiny hands were slipping and she was starting to fall a long way down to the ground. Daddy hugged her and hugged her. Sydney wasn't giggling any more she was still really scared. When she had tried to climb out of the window to the tree she had slipped and almost fell. Sydney was crying. "i just wanted to beat Lincoln one time." Daddy hugged her until the tears stopped. "Sydney" daddy said. "Mommy and Daddy have taught you to never climb up on the window sills. We also taught you not to climb too high into the tree. You were going to break both of those rules weren't you?" Sydney buried her face into her daddy's shoulder and said "Yes." "Sydney, Mommy and daddy make rules so you will be safe not to be mean. Rules need to be kept all the time. Winning a silly game of bear is not more important than being obedient. Do you understand what I am saying to you Sydney?" daddy asked her gently. "Yes, Daddy, I do. I'm sorry." "Well, I am glad you are sorry and I am glad you did not fall and get hurt but you could have been hurt. And, it was because you broke our rules. What should daddy do?" Her father looked into her big blue eyes that still had tears in them. "I don't know. I said I was sorry." "yes, you did but I think because you broke two big rules you need to go to your room and think about two things. First winning is not fun if you have to break a rule to win. Two always obey Mommy and Daddy's rule that are made to keep you safe. Can you think about those two things?" Daddy asked. Sydney walked slowly to her room with Zoe and Berry pulled in a tight hug. She had never been so scared before. She didn't like making her daddy sad. She was determined to be a very, very good girl even if she could never beat Lincoln in the game of Bear.