Heathers Ascending - Part 3

*Occasionally, I find illustrations or photos that catch my eye enough to write a story around them. I saw these on Tumblr. I don’t know the artist, but these images appeared in a 1930s McCall’s Fashion book. They inspired me to chart three ladies’ very bizarre day

The cab ride went well enough, until The Superior Nunny and Archduchess Fanty got into yet another argument about on which side you should butter toast and they ended up at one of our countries fine National Parks. This, of course led to yet another argument about at which park they were, but that argument had been had so many times they could quote it by rote. They sat in silence, mustering all the patience they could, waiting for Lady Jane to say her part of the argument.

Heathers Ascending - Part 2

*Occasionally, I find illustrations or photos that catch my eye enough to write a story around them. I saw these on Tumblr. I don’t know the artist, but these images appeared in a 1930s McCall’s Fashion book. They inspired me to chart three ladies’ very bizarre day

After garnering more than a few glares for lobbing the globs of clay the twits called "Impressions Realized" figurines, the Heathers decided to quit the "Morning Gathering" in the Creative Arena. In actuality, Archduchess Fanty tripped on a performance artist lying on the floor representing the Ottoman Empire (the Heathers could not figure out if he was actually being ironic or just an idiot.) When she tripped, she stumbled out the door and heard the word "Flagle." Returning to the other two Heathers, Archduchess Fanty informed them of these recent developments:

Heathers Ascending - Part 1

*Occasionally, I find illustrations or photos that catch my eye enough to write a story around them. I saw these on Tumblr. I don’t know the artist, but these images appeared in a 1930s McCall’s Fashion book. They inspired me to chart three ladies’ very bizarre day

One fine Lizzie Ascension Day, the Heathers gussied themselves up as they usually do for Ascension Day and headed out in search of the proper way to celebrate. Not paying attention to just about anything, they absentmindedly wandered in to a weird warehouse-type loft-space that people liked to call "Fluid Creative Arenas." Small statues and objets d'arts littered the pretentious space as people who were old enough to know better spoke in made up accents about subjects they were only slighted educated in.

My Neighborhood

I felt safe in my neighborhood.  Of course I did  – it’s why we moved there.  We had children who wanted to ride bikes on the sidewalks, we had a dog to walk at night and I had my run that freed my mind every morning. That run was my lifeline.  I thought I would fall apart without it.  I thought that running was saving my life.

I came to know the others on my route.  A short wave to one, a nod to another, a smile for the grandmother with her pink visor.  I didn’t know their names, or where they lived, but they represented a safety net – I counted on them.

Unshelved

I am not known for being hesitant to offer my opinion.  I would stand on a street corner and pass out opinions to unsuspecting passers-by if they would just stop hauling me off to the pokey for doing so.  But I have found I am reticent to offer them up online.

The primary reason is that people on the web, in venues like these, don’t know me.  I have many bad qualities; not proofreading my typo-ridden comments is the least of them.  But I have some good qualities too.  Without knowing those, and the layers that form me and my opinions, I would not care to be judged as a whole for some of my harsher criticisms.  I’m not cruel, but who knows how our words are perceived once we throw them out there for the world to read, even with the best intentions behind them?

To summarize, I’m a coward who still worries that the popular crowd won’t like me.