When Kris wants to write.

Hey ya’ll, Tina here kinda. Kris didn’t get time to edit or refine his post this week because of the madness of his first born child starting Kindergarten and all the craziness that happens with that. So, I am here to copy paste what he sent to me and leave it in it’s raw weird format for you all to enjoy. A little peek behind the curtains if you will. He wrote this story as a warmup before diving into writing on his main project. So without further ado. The children’s story of the Tiny Cute Puppy.

(Kris here – I changed a few words here and there, but I didn’t edit too much since I think Tina did a great job separating the word soup I’d sent her in the first place. Hopefully this story makes you giggle as much as I did writing it!)

One day there was a cute tiny puppy dog. But this dog had a secret. He was actually very, very big! He just told everyone he was tiny to make them feel big too and so everyone would think he were adorable. After all, tiny animals are adorable.

Then one day he met a grumpy frog. The frog was like “hey! You’re not tiny!”

The Cute, tiny puppy dog was taken aback. No one had seen through his ruse before, but he didn’t want the frog to give him away.

“What do you mean?” Asked the tiny cute puppy, “I’m obviously adorable, everyone says so. You don’t have to be mean to me because I’m adorable, you could just pet my ears. Or scratch my belly!” The puppy rolled over onto his back, his tongue lolling out to one side and his legs fervently pawing the air, this was a classic act. No one could resist!

“Oy! I’m not about to say you aren’t an adorable puppy after all ‘at rollin’ about young one, but you’re the biggest dog I’ve ever seen. I think you’re the biggest animal I’ve ever seen. I bet you could arm wrestle an elephant and come out on top.”

The frog was definitely weakened by the adorb-attack executed perfectly by the puppy, but it was too wise to be goaded by his cute words. “Tell ye’ wot  wee tyke,” continued the frog, “you tell everyone around town the real truth about your size and I’ll bet they’ll all rub yer’ belly without even thinkin’ twice about it.”

The frog gave the tiny cute puppy a pat on his upside down head and hippity hopped off to scratch some sick beats at the local dubstep club. This really vexed the poor puppy.

“But if I tell everyone the truth…will they really like me?” His curiosity was piqued, he had to know.

The tiny cute puppy bounded toward the house of his best friend Smooth Jazz Pincushion. This was of course his stage name, for Smooth Jazz was a saxophone player on Thursdays when the dubstep club was donated to aspiring jazz musicians as a romping ground to get together. Cute tiny puppy rocked the seismometers all over town as he leapt to a stop just outside Smooth Jazz’s hole.

“Hey Pincushion, are you home!” Tiny cute puppy waited and waited, he knew he had to have patience when visiting Smooth Jazz in case he was in the middle of a set.

He was dedicated to his craft and would keep playing until he perfected the song he was working on. Thankfully, Cute Tiny Puppy only had to wait about an hour before Jazz waddled out of his hole. Tiny Cute Puppy came here because he thought if anyone could identify an adorable puppy, it would be an adorable hedgehog.

“Hey Pincushion, whatchya workin’ on today?” Puppy knew to be polite if he wanted his friends to feel important. And he wanted Pincushion to feel important so he would be sure to give him an answer right away.

“Well today’s piece was a little number I picked up from an old bloke from back in the day. Very popular, very popular, you probably have a shelf dedicated to him at home even. Goes by the name of Ol’ Satchmo. My dear fellow what brings you to my home today.”

Tiny cute puppy was puzzled momentarily thinking about his record shelves, but came back to himself quickly.

“Hey Pincushion, I heard ’round about the pond that I would actually still be adorable if I were really big. Do you think I’d be a cute puppy if I were big?”

Knocking over  several municipal buildings in the process, Tiny cute puppy let his body crash to the earth, sending plumes of dust into the air with a shockwave.

“Hmm, well that’s an awfully good question cute, tiny puppy. I couldn’t imagine you big since you’re so snuggly and cuddly as a tiny puppy, but let’s have a look at you anyway.” Smooth Jazz disappeared inside his hole for a few seconds and reappeared wearing some reading specs. He backed up several city blocks waving his thumb in front of him and looking at Cute Tiny Puppy making all kinds of hmms and umms. Finally, he came back to puppy with his answer.

“Cute Tiny Puppy, I do believe I’ve accidentally discovered that you’re really huge. Like freakishly gigantic. Irresponsible for you to live in the city at that size even. I’m not sure how we missed it, quite an amusing oversight if you ask me. We’ll have to change your name!”

Tiny Cute Puppy was sad, he liked his name. “Aww really, what would you suggest?” Asked tiny cute puppy.

“I have just the thing don’t you worry.” Pincushion disappeared once more into his hedgehog hole to retrieve something.

This time puppy could hear the odd sound of a huge bellows being activated just as a giant blaze shot out of Smooth Jazz’s rooftop. Following were the echoing clangs of a hammer ringing throughout the tunnels, sounding like it came from everywhere at once. Finally, puppy heard the loudest sizzling sound he’d ever heard in his life. After several more minutes of beeping and mechanical grinding, Pincushion appeared in a great big excavator, tirelessly moving dirt to make the entranceway to his tunnel at least 3 times bigger than it had been moments ago.

Cautiously, the puppy asked “Hey Smooth Jazz, what’s the machinery for? I thought you were just picking out a name.”

Pincushion responded briefly before disappearing once more into the cave. “Oh puppy, sorry for the wait, I got distracted on the way to my library. I forgot I’d made a forge in this place a few weeks ago and I’ve been dying to try it out. I even had some sheet metal on the floor so I used it to make a splendid new nametag for you. Here try it out!”

Pincushion came back out with a nametag so big, he had to tie a team of horses to it just to get it out the front door.

“Thanks guys,” he waved the team of equestrians back across the street to their own homes.

With that, Cute Tiny Puppy laid on the ground so Smooth Jazz could fix the nametag to his collar. When he rose back up, he could see his new name.

“Gigantor Adorable Labrador? That’s a great name!” Shouted formerly Cute Tiny puppy.

“That it is my fine friend. That. It. Is.”

 

The End

Alma- Chapter 1

Whenever Alma thought of an adult, she thought of the firm stiff nature that her mother possessed. Her mother was a force. She could hold people at bay with nothing but the sound of her firm voice. She never wavered when she had made up her mind and she never backed down. Alma often thought of her mother when she was out shopping and someone snagged the last roll of bread or butted into her conversation with the butcher to order their own meat. Alma never had to be hard. She was soft spoken and soft in spirit. She followed readily down any path that others had already made a trail for. Alma was soft in the ways of dealing with anyone. She often saw herself as a cloud and her mother as a tall mountain. The clouds would never break through the mountains, she just had to bend and split and make her way around them. Conforming to the needs and wants that lay before her.

It was a sad but easy life for Alma. Until the day mother died. The brisk men in dark suits showed up and demanded this or that. Stating that her mother had no right to keep them from it. Alma could do nothing but sit by as the men took things from her home to pay for the rest of the debt on the house. She would get to keep living there but with far less of the art and specialty pieces her mother had fawned over. She was left with her own meager mattress and the books. Her father had loved books. He had spent his whole life learning and collecting as many stories as he could. He was a dreamer and very soft as well. Alma supposed that is why mother was so hard, to counter father’s soft. Father passed away when Alma was only 10 years of age. Her mother had made talk of taking out the books and turning the room into a rented room for extra income. That was the only day that little Alma took a stand. Well, rather a sit. She sat in front of the doors to the office all day and night. Refusing to move, no matter the beating promised or candies offered. She sat there clutching tightly the last story her father had read to her.

If she thought back carefully she supposes that one could say mother was proud of Alma for finding something to hold on to. Even mother had hated the idea of getting rid of such a large collection that was such a part of their lives. So she gave in on this one thing, with the solid understanding that Alma was to be the sole owner of the office and as such, it was her job to keep it neat and tidy. Every morning Alma would set to work dusting off all the shelves of books, stacking neatly the last round of reading, shoveling out the ash from the fireplace and hauling it all out. She made sure that nothing was out of place or kept incorrectly. One small thing for her mother to latch onto and Alma feared she would take all of her joy.

The books were a shared world where Alma didn’t feel small. She felt as brave as the young lost boy on a magical island, or as fearless as the small girl who followed a rabbit. She would find herself wondering how such wonderful and amazing people were even thought up. The only people around her were all quite practical and reasonable people who kept to themselves and worked hard to keep their reputations quite high. She never was able to find people like in her book. Until the night she met Ro’dan. Ro’dan was a young boy who had attempted to cut her purse. Alma having read every book in the large office found many that talked about how to avoid such things from happening. She also realised that this boy likely didn’t have any choice in the matter and was doing so just to save his own skin. Alma caught Ro’dan’s hand swiftly and pulled him close.

“Listen closely, I will make it seem as if I am so upset at what you are doing and hauling you off. You must follow and make it look good for whoever might be watching you.”

Ro’dan was just confused and shocked at the speed of this younger looking lady. By the way she dressed and acted he had thought her to be a spinster for sure. Now looking at her closely he could tell that her eyes and face showed a much younger and lively looking young woman. He wasn’t sure what she was talking about but when she started making a fuss and talking about constables, he was pulling as hard as he could to get away from her shrill voice of alarm. However, her arms and hands were much stronger than he suspected and she easily pulled him down the street and around to an ally way out of sight of his crew. He looked up in worry as this crazed young woman watched people running around and looking confused. She had managed to cause chaos as people started to notice their own pouches emptied. She had a mad smile spread across her face and she turned to face him with those excited eyes.

“You are someone I have been waiting to meet for a long time. Please come with me and have tea.” Before Ro’dan could give a response, Alma took him once again leadingly by the wrist and dragged him all the way to her home.

From the outside, Ro’dan could tell this girl was well enough off. She should have been no different than the average victim of his snatches. However, this girl had reflexes too fast for him to see and a power that rivaled even his own master’s power. She was strong in a surprising way that kept Ro’dan silently waiting for an opening to get away.

The Grumpy Penguin

Kris here,

So some time ago while we were all hanging around and I was probably doing some manly dad things, like grilling outdoors or twisting off tight jar lids or something, when I had the bright idea “Hey Nik and I should write a story!” So I then said aloud “Hey Nik and I should write a story!”

Tina was totally down with this on account of it not including any work on her part, but Nikolai was apparently heartbroken. Do you know how long he’d waited to play with those toys? It might’ve been watching his tablet too but let’s go with the toys thing. He was yelling and crying and calling 911 and generally just making a ruckus that I don’t think was necessarily apt for the situation. So, of course, I sat down and started writing the story about him, out loud, while writing everything to paper. He gradually grew less and less fussy and started laughing because I’m the best and we all learned something at the end (dad had to google because he was making outlandish allegations that nobody was sure of.)

Right after we’d finished writing it down to paper, Nik and I read the story to Tina as a whole instead of the broken sentences I used while I was actually writing it down. Tina did that thing she does where she’s the best and there were suddenly illustrations! And now we have a brief and amusing story that still gets told before bed from time to time – we thought we’d post it on our blog here, in case anyone else was able to make their toddler giggle at the antics of The Grumpy Penguin.

Grumpy001Grumpy002Grumpy003Grumpy004Grumpy005Grumpy006Grumpy007Grumpy008Grumpy009Grumpy010Grumpy011Grumpy012Grumpy013Grumpy014Grumpy015

Story Time with Tina

Hey guys, Tina here!

So as I am getting ready to lay out the next GGGS, I wanted to take a break and share some of my own personal work. I like to write short stories as a way of dealing with my PTSD and bad dreams. I have been working with a Therapist on all of this and she agrees that writing the short stories that I just blast out are a great way to process my emotions and fears. So I am going to work on transferring some of my old work over to this blog but I wanted to see if I could work out a story for today’s post. So, without further ado, I give you my very short story.

Also note, If you want to listen to what I listen to when I write these stories here is the link. My Muse.

Trigger Warning: You are going to be reading something from a really fucked up mind. You WILL read something you don’t like or might make you feel uncomfortable. I want to take the time to say, If you have sensitivities of any kind to stories that have to do with things that might upset you. Don’t read this. Giving a specific would kill the mood of the story so just use your own judgment.

Also, apologies in advance for using ‘bad words’.

Deep Sleep

I sat up straight from a dead sleep. My head dripping with sweat, my hands shaking. The nightmare had pulled me in once again.

Dreams have always been a burden to me. Taunting me with wishes far out of reach or wrapping my deepest fears around me like a soiled bandage. All the pain and suffering, I could still feel on my arms as I looked them over in the dim light of my flickering tv. No scars, scrapes or bruises to mark the torture I had just endured. My hands were pale and stung from the returning blood. They had lost circulation as I had used them to rest my head on. I flung my legs over the side of the bed and waited a moment for the rest of my mind to understand what I was about to do.

Slowly I stood and started walking off toward the bathroom. I hadn’t pissed the sheets yet but I needed to go. I walked past the dim yellow nightlights that dotted the outlets of the hall. I lived alone so I never risked anyone laughing or questioning my need for light all the time. My feet found the cold, hard tile as I stepped into the bathroom. I reached around on the wall to flip the switch, looking forward at the mirror awaiting my reflection. With the sudden blast of light, I saw a familiar face behind my own just over my shoulder. The face of a very old woman who had lived near my family when I was a child. Her angry furrowed brow dipped down in disappointment.

As suddenly as I gasped at her face, I blinked and she was gone. My lungs were burning as I attempted to take slow steady breaths. I leaned on the frame of the door looking down at my feet. My eyes, searching the darkness behind them looking for any danger. After regaining my mind and breath, I finished walking in and pushed the door closed behind me. I didn’t need to be in there long but I didn’t want the darkness unshielded behind me. Standing over top the bowl with one arm braced on the wall in front of me, I let go of the flood. Wrapping up I tucked everything back into place and turned to the sink to wash up. The sink was filled with a sickly looking brown waste water. As though someone had connected it with a sewer. I shook my head and looked again to see nothing wrong. Fucking nightmares playing tricks on me even now. I couldn’t wait to get back to bed and see what they could come up with then.

I washed up and dried my hands on my towel hung from the door. I flung open the door to find the full figure of the same old woman standing in front of me. I blinked, but this time she didn’t leave. I backed up a bit and pushed the door shut. I moved backward until my ass came in contact with the counter of the sink. Feeling the wetness of the water I turned around to see her face looking back at me instead of my own reflection. Jumping backward, I slammed against the door. Her face had vanished. I felt something brush my foot and looked down to see grasping, bony fingers, skin loosely wrapped around them and wrinkled with age reaching out to touch me. I hauled ass into the tub and sat there crying like a fucking kid for a good half an hour.

Nothing else happened as I carefully maneuvered out of the bathroom and practically ran to my bed. No one to watch as I pulled out my childhood friend Bare bear. The same raggedy old toy I had been given when I was a small child. I sat on the bed, back to the wall, and watched the room for any signs of movement. I started to drift off here or there, shaking myself to be awake and watch for the bitch I knew couldn’t be real.

At some point I had lost to my body’s need for rest. Waking up with the sunlight pouring down on my face. I felt different, the overall heaviness that had been haunting me for days seemed to have vanished. My fears all melted away. I even left Bare bear on the bed, instead of hiding him from anyone who might come around. Not that anyone ever did. I made my way into the living room and sat down on the couch. My tv always on. Fuck the bills, I found ways to keep on lights all around regardless. I sat there for what felt like only mere minutes when I turned and noticed the sun had set. Where had all the time gone?

I walked back down the hall to my bedroom. Keeping an eye on the creeping corners of darkness that were starting to impose themselves. Turning into my room I saw it. The single thing that I had always feared to find. My own body laying on the bed with a rash of pill bottles laying all around and a note neatly folded on the foot of the bed. It had a tear-filled outline of my living horrors and my need for help but inability to find it. I smiled and laid down next to myself. Falling asleep and dreaming of the same nightmares as always. They couldn’t hurt me, cause they weren’t real, but neither was I anymore.