A Whisper in the Sawmill

    The doctor was brusque. It was the first appointment of the day and he behaved as if he was running an hour behind. He spoke quickly and loudly so I had no chance of interrupting and when he wasn’t talking he was typing furiously. The keyboard shook beneath his boney hands as he pounded away at the keys, never sparing me a glance. Cross legged in the wide padded chair I sat with my hands folded and shoulders tense.     Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis. That’s what he said I had, after saying hello to me and asking me twenty questions which he himself answered by reading my chart out loud before I could get a word in. He manhandled my throat and told me to swallow, checked my reflexes with his little hammer and told me to hold out my hands to see if they shook. They didn’t. He wrote me a prescription for something called Levothyroxin, wrote and circled “For life,” and handed it to me with a one page blue printout about Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis with ...

Someone huffing past A blonde bouncing ponytail In Lulu Lemon High pitched squeals of joy Low rumble gently cautions Enthusiasm Teenage couple walks Hand in hand contemplating Possibilities Retired couple Ambles by contemplating Serendipity

The following is an except from a story I'm currently working on, feedback is appreciated and if the interest is there I may post the rest at a later date.     Annabelle knew it was getting late. Brave though she was, she knew it was dangerous to be in the forest after dark. She knew she could outwit a beast in the daylight, but she couldn’t see in the dark and would be a sitting duck if anything tracked her down. Still she remained, sitting once again on the toppled standing stone in her magical glade, too afraid to return home. Darkness fell, and it was too late.     Presently, a rustling began near the edge of the clearing. Annabelle stiffened, feeling very exposed and afraid. A shadow moved among the underbrush, a predator readying an attack? Annabelle grasped her walking stick tightly, ready to use the only weapon she had. The form in the brush grew closer until it resolved itself into a familiar shape. A deer. Annabelle relaxed. ...

Here's a little essay I wrote a few years ago after a particularly harrowing trip to the theater. I cursed myself for not taking up jogging. It was part of my plan for the summer, but like most things I plan to do with all the anticipation and excitement of someone who doesn’t know what they’re getting into, when the time came to actually do it I changed my mind. I put it off. I didn’t have that option tonight, this was a limited engagement and I may never get the chance again. I knew myself and if I don’t do this, I may never even try again. My throat burned as I ran down the uneven cobbled streets, gulping down lung-fulls of autumn night air. I dodged gaggles of loudly conversing bar-hoppers and overtook surprised looking retired couples as I all out sprinted for the theatre. I was going to be late. It hurt. Not the burning lungs or the stares of the people I rushed past on the street, but the lateness. I hate being late. If I know I’m going to be late for something I ofte...

Ever wonder what comes after a happy ending? In this series I will explore my take on the consequences of the events in some of my favorite movies.  Hocus Pocus (1993)      It wasn't immediately apparent, but the brief time Max spent in Winifred Sanderson's grasp took it's toll. Max aged before Allison and Dani's eyes and by the time he graduated high school he was nearly unrecognizable. Plagued with arthritis, heart problems, and finally dementia Max lashed out and blamed Dani for his lost youth. The pressure and guilt was too much for her, and she ran away from home at 16. Doctors were baffled by his sudden and extreme condition and could offer no remedies or even treatment. His parents tried to care for him at home, but his anger and violent nature finally forced them to put Max in a home by the age of 25. He passed away before this 30th birthday.      Allison stayed with Max for 2 years following the incident, even going so far as to delay...

     It was an overcast Sunday in late November. The cloud cover was so thick the day was spent in perpetual twilight. The air wasn't cold, but the constant wind and light icy rain stung my cheeks and left my face raw. I walked briskly. Up ahead a man stood on the curb, eerily still. As I grew closer I saw that he was very thin and dressed in black. Also he had no head. Blinking, I realized what I was looking at was a parking meter.       "Man, I need to get my eyes checked." Welcome       Here you find a small example of writings, scribblings, and other assorted whatnot that I deem worthy of sharing with the world. Is it worthy? Time will tell. -Beth