Caught in the Net #500wordsaday #Fiction

Day 4

#500wordsaday

#fiction

Caught in the Net

He was the first one up every morning.  He had this idea that if he was the first one to the docks he would get to finally graduate from being the one to hold the nets. He  loaded all the gear, made sure the boat had gas and that his fathers' captain seat was clean and ready. He was often so early that he had time to run to the corner bait shop and grab his favorite doughnut, old fashioned with chocolate frosting. He usually thought of getting his brother one too but he always stopped himself.  Juan didn't deserve it.  Angel, the worm expert, always greeted him with a smile, a pat on the back and kind words. He would often tell him the secrets of the bay as if he was giving him a one up on the competition.  But Jose already knew his older brother would assume the position of lead kiss ass to his father, at least on this day. 

Jose knew that one day his brother would be interested in girls and he would take over his position. He was never going to like girls because that's what happened to his oldest brother Antonio and he ended up having to get a job in town. He didn't want that. He wanted to be the village fisherman, just like his Papa.  It meant that he would also have to take care of a baby and they were annoying. That's what Antonio said anyway. But Jose didn't really know anything about babies or why when you liked girls an annoying  baby showed up later. Juan told him it was because Antonio kissed Theresa. "YUCK! Kissing was gross anyway" Jose thought. That solved it. He would never like girls, he would never kiss a girl, he would never have to deal with babies and he could one day be the captain of the family boat, Amante Del Mar. That is all that matters. At least when you are six.

Papa was the first one to arrive as usual, pleased at the organization and care that Jose took to prepping all the details for the morning catch. Papa slung the canvas bag covered in fish scales onto the back bench near the catch pails. "You forgot your nets!" his Papa groaned. Jose hung his head low. He really wanted to be the best at his duties and he was so excited and hopeful to impress his father on the boat that he forgot his own supplies that morning. They weren't suppose to be his nets anyway but there was no one to pass them on to. He was the last of the children and his Mama said she wasn't having anymore unless it was an immaculate conception. He didn't really know what that meant but he prayed every night that it might happened. His teacher told him it only ever happened once and that was in the Bible a long time ago. So he watched carefully when Papa kissed Mama hello and good bye. He hoped a baby would arrive soon. It was all just so confusing.

Juan showed up late, as usual. He boarded near the stern careless as usual tipping over the catch pail. He knew Jose would pick it up. Juan took his position, closed his eyes and fell back asleep. Papa guided the bow of the boat through the short canal and into the bay. Jose unzipped his canvas supply bag, pulled out his nets and set them up in perfect order. He was ready. It was not the job he wanted but it was the job he would do well. And one day when the time was right, he would in fact move to the seat of Capitan.

Whiskey and Rum #500wordsaday Fiction

Day 3

#500wordsaday Fiction

Whiskey and Rum

Flo was her name. She had every bit of southern stereotype one could hope for. I went to see her everyday while I was in town. She served up the best cinnamon rolls in a 500 mile radius. Well she didn't actually serve them,  but she rang me up for them. Some days when she was feeling frisky  she would slide me one in a paper towel like a drug deal. They weren't really very good either. I would just visit her just so I could hear her snap her gum. I liked the way she snapped her gum. I liked the way she made me feel.

I was traveling north out of Wyoming when I happened upon the truck stop just before the Montana border. I had a destination but no desire to get there. At least that's what I told people.  I didn't really have any desires much these days. The back wheel of the trailer needed some air but that isn't why I stopped. It was the neon sign. Why was there a neon sign in the middle of the road that said shoe shine? And why was it hanging on a stop sign post with no stop sign? Damn hillbilly's!

I pulled into the drive and hit a few potholes. That wasn't so hard to do since it hadn't been repaired since it was first laid was my guess. I figured I'd go ahead and curb my curiosity. The trailer rocked hard to the left and then to the right. I didn't bother to slow down.  I knew it would be fine but the sound of the thrift store utensils, my old man's leftover tools and my granny's hand me down cooking pots told a different story.

I spent my days on the road as of late. It was better than the alternative grind back home. I had it with my cubicle and the bullshit that came with every project that passed my desk. I liked my work once.

 I knew how to juggle, I was a barber, I owned a 1968 airstream and I loved whiskey and rum. You wouldn't know I cut hair by the looks of mine, but you could definitely tell I liked whiskey and rum. The only thing my old lady said I could juggle was women. She was right. She was a nag. She was right up there with the cubicle in the pecking order of pros and cons when I hit the road.

I tipped my bottle, the last of it, and proceeded with what I thought was a swagger into the grungy linoleum covered shop smelling like grandpas overalls. I ordered up another bottle and demanded an explanation of who shined shoes. Because I felt like it. It was late. The young, freckled redhead behind the counter looked me straight in the eye, placed her hand  firmly on her hip with her thumb stuck in the belt loop, snapped her gum four times and said "who's asking?" 

"My name is Samuel and I need a polish"

"You need a bath!" 

I lifted my arm to smell the subject of discussion. She was right.

She  became my wife.

 

Chevy 3600 #500wordsaday

Today's story was a challenge for me. My random pick of a person to meet happened in an elevator. Cliché' I know!  When I asked him to tell me something about himself that no one knows, without hesitation he stated, "I have a traumatic brain injury!"  GULP! Those of you who know my life story know how close this hits to home.  I'm had a hard time getting fiction on this one as my own fathers story keeps lending its details. The divine has a very quirky sense of humor sometimes.  Just like my dad!

I had to pull from my deepest creative space, a story that is not my own, yet the one the divine desires me to tell. It was odd that as I struggled with this today, I parked next to THIS truck! The one my grandfather, my father's father owned. The truck we played in most of our childhood. I know its deepest secrets well. Much to my pleasure, this story flowed easily once I embarked on the journey. Please share in my fear and accomplishments of day 2 #500wordsaday

I am totally enjoying being out of my comfort zone right now!

Day 2

#500wordsaday #Fiction

Chevy 3600

It was a stormy day in Glendale, California. He knew in his mind that this was unusual but he wasn't quite sure why. He sat in the front seat of his 3600 Chevy wondering why it all felt familiar yet so far away from where he knew he was supposed to be. He felt his heart beat a little faster as he placed his hand on the gear shift that went from the floorboard to his clammy grip. The ball at the top of the shift said he had 4 directions he could go but his hand remained stiff as he didn't know which number to choose. He felt as if he was making life decisions but that wasn't entirely true. He didn't know the truth of anything anymore. He didn't even really know how he got to be sitting where he was yet he knew he just arrived.

Like flashes of the lightening in the sky, so too did he feel a flash in memory. He knew he recollected every single flash that came through his mind but they were moving too fast for his mind to grasp the facts. The thunder would happen, he would jolt from a thought and then as the lightening hit so did his next memory. He couldn't grasp why he was so confused. The rain began to pour on the shattered windshield just as the tears of frustration began to stream down his face. Again, he knew the emotion was unclear but it felt so good to let it flow. It did not matter. He just had to let it out. As a cleansing but it was mostly out of his control. He didn't feel sad, but the tears kept coming. He was frustrated, yes, but he knew better than to cry from frustration. His present cognition said stop but his primal brain allowed it to continue.

He flashed to the moment of the red light turning green, he pressed the accelerator to cross the intersection like a school boy in all his glory of his first peel out. He felt the joy of the rubber meeting the street as he popped the clutch of his suped up Chevy.  He was proud of his truck. He would most likely  treat it better than he treated most of his girlfriends. His memory goes blank. Frustration returns. "Why can't I remember the smell of the rubber. Why can't I remember what happens next?"

 He returns to his present moment, only now his hands are clenching the steering wheel that is slightly cocked off to the right as though that were the direction he was heading. The driver's door is sawed open by some animal of a metal beast that exposed the interior like an annoying savage exposes its prey. "Who or what would do that to such a beautiful truck?" he thought.

No one really talks about what happened. No one wants to relive the horror of his condition. He reaches his hand up to the scar on the side of his head, now overgrown with hair but separated by the details of his demise. His right hand cannot reach that far so he must use his left.  And actually, his whole  right side is a bit weak and lame. This is most maddening  as he use to be right handed. How will he ever shift the gear of his beloved again. He finds it difficult to focus on the scar dug into his head and the desire to work his right hand. He struggles to raise his right hand off the steering wheel  but needs to use his other hand to lift it. Too much going on. He surrenders, relaxes back into the blood stained leather upholstery. Defeated, he allows his head to turn to the left, gazing through the claws of the metal shrapnel. Tears roll down his face once more, the storm continues, the thunder roars, the lightening flashes before him and he remembers. Just one more piece.

He grabbed the faded pinkish, red oil cloth that was stuffed low into the floor board near the end of the gear shift and wiped his tears. He looked up into the blotted rear view mirror to catch his gaze and saw the oil from the vintage truck smeared across his high cheekbones. He thought to himself, I am a warrior!

 

Aisle 8 #500wordsaday

I have joined a challenge in hopes to write more and become inspired to finish my books. 

Although this has nothing to do with my book, I hope you enjoy it. 

THIS story is my first attempt at FICTION since grade school. 

~Jolie

 

Day 1 

#500wordsaday

 Aisle 8

He stepped onto the train with his hair disheveled more than usual today. He wasn't sure why but he just didn't seem to care anymore. He spilled his green tea down his neutral colored overcoat as he plopped his now overweight body onto the gum stained seat. He always drank green tea now. His wife says it is healthy for him. He preferred coffee but the morning discussions started to wear him down. So he did  as he was told and just drank the watered down leaves of a plant.

He remembers his dad doing what he was told as well. He always wondered why he never stood up for himself. His dad was a man of stature and confidence yet he never really got to eat what he wanted or go where he wanted unless it was his moms idea. Just like his dad, he really wanted to have a steak on a Friday, but he smiled through the plate of quinoa and roasted vegetables lined with baked tofu. He would however, sneak a burger from the fast food joint around the corner on his way home on occasion, just like his dad taught him to. 

His wife was a lovely lady. She did all the right things to make their family look right in the eyes of the neighbors. Not in a keeping up with the Jones' kind of way, but in the right way that a good woman was supposed to do. She was kind and she was well put together. He just often felt like he was living in a other persons world of rules and silly expectations that didn't fit with his true identity. He loved her. But today may have been the last time he could sip that green tea without resentment. He really wanted that dark coffee with creamer. Not the fake stuff either. The real thing. Maybe even whipping cream with the layer of oil on top as it melted into the abyss of the aroma, that surprisingly one could see. He could actually taste that coffee in his next sip off the plastic travel mug his wife so lovingly filled for him every morning with that damn green tea. He closed his eyes and imagined the delight of that first taste of Italian roast, which interestingly enough made him think of his Italian leather shoes that his wife picked out. He didn't even really like the shoes at the time.

He opened his eyes gazing through his bangs that were now too long. He dozed off in his thoughts for a moment, thinking to himself, I should have listened to my wife and gotten that haircut last week. He came back to his half blocked view. He could barely make her out as his haze of morning fog wasn't quite gone as green tea never really made that moment bearable. But there she was. She was well put together. Her dark blue linen dress was tight and outlining every curve yet not too sexy, only in his mind. She had just the right amount of make-up and she seemed to be organized in her morning ritual of notes, emails and correspondences prior to her arrival. He sank a little lower wondering how she could be so perfect. He looked upon her with his desire of a man yet in envy of her power. Wishing he had that sort of power and that his wife had that sort of style. He dreamed of how he would caress her beautiful, firm breast underneath the conference table. He was aroused deeper with excitement when he imagined nearly getting caught by his assistant Betty, the 68 year old woman who would only leave his side for death. What would betty think? He didn't care in that moment and wondered why he would even question it. He returned to dwell on the beauty of her long locks perfectly coiffed and breath in her imaginable smell of sweet mango that overwhelmed him with a deep sensation of satisfaction.

The train hit the curve at D street with that same usual screech he heard every morning at this time of his commute. The train slowed, forcing his head to jolt slightly, awakening him from his morning delight. He focused his gaze once more to catch her off centered smile as though she knew his thoughts. He tucked his head back down returning to what he only knew as himself, the misplaced,  scraggly self that desired to be happier and more full of life. More organized like the beauty in front of him on the rear facing seat of aisle 8 heading downtown.

Day after day he returned to the train searching for love in aisle 8. Each day he shifted his awareness to be just a little more desirable to the woman who caught his attention despite his lack of self esteem and lust for living. He got that haircut that his wife suggested. He stood tall at the coffee maker that next morning and shared with his wife his desire to have just one vice that made him feel whole. He changed his over coat to a stylish looking Italian cut to match the shoes his wife swore made him stand taller. He boarded that train again and again to only be disappointed that she was not there. Was she only a figment of his imagination? Why did she not appear when he was now ready to be the man that could rock her world underneath that conference table. He was willing to risk all that he had at home in his expensive suburban life to find that strength and style that she showed him. She was not there. Again. And Again. Not there. His head began to hang a little lower each day, once again.

He stepped off the train early on a Friday afternoon one week playing hooky from his afternoon meeting. Still looking all the fabulous as he would have wanted the Aisle 8 angel to have seen him, yet his inner strength still felt a little weak. He decided to walk pass the cafe in his quaint little town just 40 minutes out of the hip downtown area where he spent his work week. As he passed the cafe window he saw his reflection. Why didn't the way he felt inside match this handsome reflection? And then into focus like a movie, there she was, THAT dress! He recognized her dress. The blue linen dress of the angel in aisle 8. There she was! She was sitting there with her friends sharing a glass of champagne. She lifted it to her lips and as she cocked her head slightly toward him, he saw her in full view for who she was. He was stunned at first. But then it all made sense. His wife caught his flirtatious gaze and smiled that smile she only ever gave him. It was the smile he knew in his heart. And much to his comedic inner voice, the song began to play in his head...................
If you like pina coladas.........

The art of Listening for Nature's Whisper~Restorative Yoga Teacher Training

As I lay in my very first yoga class ever, I found my mind racing. And as I relaxed my mind into the sound of the teachers voice and the rhythm of my breath I began to feel the expansion of fear in my throat followed by a well of tears that never seemed to end for the next three months. Once I began to make it through a yoga class without tears, I then wondered what was going wrong? Why was I no longer feeling this overwhelming sense of relief from pain, fear and discomfort that had embodied me for so long? Where was this pain now? Why was yoga no longer working.

I began to research the body deeply on the physical, spiritual and energetic level. I came across the cellular respiration in a biology class that seemed to begin to bring it all together. It made perfect sense! All these years of pain collecting in every cell of my body, all the moments of fear residual riding the cell to the next level of memory recollection and all the moments of discomfort that my body stored away so that in that one moment of release, I would recollect its truth, reschedule it to a space of happiness, balance and ease and place it back into the next cell for moving forward in life with joy!

I began to meditate on the possibilities of changing the DNA. If we can change our cells to have negative energy, then surely it is possible to mutate it back in the other direction, no? YES! I believe this is possible. I began to find that truth through positive speech to myself, positive affirmations. To that place in the mind that had the power. That is where I wanted to be so my body would follow. I wanted a straight forward way to see that right in front of me. Of course that doesn't happen, and so my workshop, later turned Yoga Teacher Training, Listening for Nature's Whisper was born. The path of Listening for Nature's Whisper is a powerful path because when you are still enough, quiet enough and willing enough, the divine speaks through you and the truth of your path, healthy body and sane mind becomes the way of who you are meant to be in this moment and life.

Join me in the journey of recollection of your true balanced self and obtain the power through postures, breath, the wisdom of the nervous system and stillness of the mind to clearly hear Nature's Whisper. From this clear space you will fully embody the wisdom to carry forward your passion at a deeper level to others.

Listening for Nature's Whisper~Restorative Yoga Teacher Training is a 100 hour course and is open to current yoga teachers seeking deeper knowledge and certification.The training consists of 100 hours over a 3 month period designed to provide space for growth and integration. The ONE weekend a month “intensives” encourages deeper studies and offers self study for practicum. Each “Intensive” will be dedicated to an area of yogic practices which form a mandala of wisdom, intuition, knowledge and experience at the deepest levels of the body, spirit and mind as well as methodology and anatomy. 100 hours of study will be applicable to 500 hour certification.
Three weekends ~ 100 hours
Friday, Saturday & Sunday 8am-6pm
more information here

Jolie Cash, is the founder, director and senior teacher of Nature’s Whisper School of Yoga  Jolie is a certified with Tantra Yoga International at the 500 hour level and has over 2,000 + hours of training far exceeding the standards and requirements of National Registration agencies. Jolie is also the founder of Nature’s Whisper Natural Herb products and Hot Mama Yoga. She is committed to the empowerment of all beings through the teachings of authenticity and using all of life’s lessons & pleasures for spiritual growth.
More About Jolie for more information.

For more information about Nature's Whisper School of Yoga, please visit us here or contact Jolie Cash directly by email

All Nature's Whisper School of Yoga Teacher Trainings are by application process. You may download an application here

Nature's Whisper School of Yoga,4205 Park Blvd.,San Diego, CA 92103