Frozen in Time by Raymond Roy

Why are you looking at me like that?

Did I do something wrong?

My senses suddenly become sharper,, ears feel hot, “tick…tock”..I hear a clock ticking nearby

Tick tock, tick tock

Survival mode, pupils dilate

Tick Tock…

Why is the door locked?

Tick tock…

I feel I should run but my feet weigh heavy like cinderblocks

Tick tock..

Under my loose fitting shirt, I feel a bead of nervous sweat run down my rib cage

Tick…..tock….tick ……..tock….everything is in slow motion,

I am terrified, Why can’t I scream?

Tick…..tock You manipulate me like clay..

Tick tock…Tick tock… tick tock… tick tock

If I say anything, I am a bleeding heart victim and an attention whore.

When you are a victim of abuse, you don’t always understand what is happening which IS one of the reasons many victims fall prey.Innocence. Especially children. You become frozen and confused.

Once you realize the brevity of what happened, guilt and shame set it….you feel alone. This is a lie.. You are NOT alone

Peace

-Royboy

“Mists” By Raymond Roy #writephoto

She leaned back into the tree hoping that her natural curves would blend in with the silhouette of the mature oak tree. She had run all night, her throat was parched. Torturously, a heavy mist hung thick in the morning air..she could feel the clay drawing all the moisture out of her feet. Sweat saturated her thin cotton work dress. Cotton, how she hated even the thinking of that word.

She could hear the dogs barking across the field, but she dare not look. As the fog began to dissipate, a curious squirrel stopped for a look, clacking it yellow teeth together emitting a territorial chirp. The trunk of the mighty oak was carpeted with a thick layer of moss it felt good against her scarred back. Subtly she turned and faced the moss. Like a butterfly gathering nectar, she pursed her lips and with a gentle flicking motion of her tongue, gathered the surface tension strained dew droplets from atop the many tiny moss rosettes.

She knew that moss primarily grew on the North side of a tree. She now had her bearings. North. To freedom.

-Goroyboy

Written for Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt fiction.

Society’s Tourniquet By Raymond Roy #FFFAW

Rattle Rattle, “spare change?” , “help a brother out”? 
Pan handling, it’s not so bad. You never have to worry about making eye contact with anybody. Although the concrete IS hot in the summer and sucks the life’s blood out of you in the winter. My knees ache, and butt gets numb at times. Don’t have to worry about feet getting cold since I left those back in Afghanistan. 

Hard concrete flashback: snapping in honing our marksmanship skills in the Marine Corps. The circle was asphalt, the rifle sling was tourniquet tight. We knelt facing a target, not firing, just developing muscle memory. Bam!! I saw stars as the DI slapped the rifle against my face, “tighten it up maggot”.

 Bam!! Back to reality, a car backfires. 

A long legged fur coat wearing high society type approaches the entrance to the high rise apartments with her fru-fru K9. She stops momentarily, takes out a tissue and wipes the dog’s arse. 

What’s wrong with this picture? 
Rattle Rattle, “spare change?” , “help a brother out”? 

Word count-174

Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers 

Semper Fidelis to all my Marine brethren. 

The Appointment by Raymond Roy

Window sample packed so tightly into my coupe, I had to lean the front seat forward just to squeeze it in. 2pm in home demo appt. 

“You wait right here young man, I will be right back”. The lady of the house went in to the kitchen. The house smelled old. As I heard her clanking around, I couldn’t help but notice the city citation letter sitting on her coffee table. It listed specific home repairs in lieu of condemning the property. Windows was one of them. As I understood her husband was on the road driving tractor trailer. 

Clanging in the kitchen continued, muffling out what sounded like voices. 

Sitting patiently, tap, tap, tap, an iridescent house fly pummeled its exoskeleton against the plastered wall. Suddenly it dive bombs down into to corner of the room on to what appeared to be a matted rug sticking out from behind an ottoman. Like John Coffey in “the Green Mile” opening his mouth to release the evil he had sucked out of another being, a flurry of flies swarmed out from behind the foot rest. Much like a flock of starlings swirling in the windy autumn day, the flies orchestrated their way toward my side of the room gathering on the unkept glass of the south facing picture window. Looking closer at the matted rug, I realized it wasn’t a rug at all but sadly was the tail of a once beloved family pet. Hmm, 

“Ma’m, everything okay in there? Ma’m? ”

Walking toward the arched doorway, I struggled to get my footing as the well worn shag rug offered little resistance to the soles of my dress shoes. To the left, the front door was to the and to the right a narrow hallway leading to the kitchen. Her back was to me as she continued to bang dirty dishes around. As I walked closer, the voice I had heard was hers, spewing out a series of expletives so graphic it would make a sailor blush. “Ma’m? ” Approaching the rooms threshold, I understood what the clanging was loud, the was no water in the sink nor was any coming out of the tap as she repeatedly went through the motions. 

Through the kitchen window I could see the overgrown back yard. 

“Ma’m”?  

She looked up, put down her pots, as if to surrender, her shoulders sank. I reached out a hand and gently placed it on her back. It was if she had never experienced a human touch. Heavy teardrops rolled down her face ashen cheeks, splashing on the chipped porcelain sink. The last thing she needed was windows. 

I Got Stripes

Visited my Dad Gerald last night in a dream. Perhaps it was brought on after watching “Walk the Line”. Dad admired Johnny Cash. Perhaps for his out reach to prisoners but I am sure for some of his wry lyrics in songs like
 I Got Stripes

“On a Monday,

My momma come to see me

On a Tuesday,

They caught me with a file

On a Wednesday,

I’m down in solitary

On a Thursday,

I start on bread and water for a while”

Or 

Sunday Morning Coming Down

“The beer I had for breakfast, wasn’t bad so I had one more for dessert”
Based on Dad stories it sounded like Johnny was singing his life story. 

In my dream, Dad was incarcerated and I sat with him and fellow inmates in a common area, almost like a barracks environment. What was different was that we were able to take a walk outside. 

The sun was shining on a gorgeous day. I put my arm across his shoulders, the sun had warmed his back and I could feel his loving spirit. We ventured up a hill where many logs had fallen.,He picked up a giant one and placed it to keep a cliff side from collapsing. We had a few laughs, shed tears of joy for just being together but also shed familiar tears that I remember so many times growing up when it was “time to go”. Regardless, it filled my soul. Peace. 

RIP GJR 

U.S.M.C. (Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children)

Training Day 1 (T-1) of Marine Corps bootcamp many years ago, we were told. “Look at each other and let’s make something clear!” “There is no black, white, yellow, brown, or red!” “There is only green!”Some may be dark green or light green but you are all green and equally worthless!” It was the removal of looking at each other as a different color in “stressful” circumstances that empowered us to succeed as one. Brothers forever. Amen #semperfi #alwaysfaithful 

Ethical Line

Recently I came across a few forums supporting the argument of not taking up the offenses of others i.e. ….fight your own battles. Additionally, 1Thessalonians 4:11 states:“Do all you can to live a peaceful life. Take care of your own business, and do your own work as we have already told you”. 

In other words mind your own business. I couldn’t agree more. 

However, human decency dictates that it is your responsibility to stand up for those without a voice or being treated unfairly. In my humble opinion, that should be your business. 

Years back I took an ethics class where the curriculum was structured around ethical questions such as your stand on abortion, corporate accountability, etc… What I truly enjoyed about the class was there were no wrong answers/opinions. 

The objective was to peel back the layers of laissez faire positions on posed ethical questions. I was surprised by the level of passion throughout the class as we became ethically self aware. Recent events in my life have brought me to a similar place, I felt spirituality mature enough to stand with those I felt had been wronged and although it happened to be my job to protect them, it was much more than that. Not only was it my ethical responsibility as Christian, even more so as a fellow human being. 

My position doesn’t mean I am right, but simply striving to be true to where l feel an ethical line should be drawn. Peace and may God have mercy on us all.