girl – penned in moon dust

Oksana – a story of survival #dailypost #children #world #Atozchallenge

The true story of survival of a young Ukrainian girl

Oksana -It seems but days ago that you sat on my lap rattling off words in English proud of your ability to master languages.

I present you with a new challenge to start at, a skill – teaching. “Oksana, take these pictures of words and hold them as you point to them. First say the word in your language, then say the word slowly in English. Very slowly form the letters “R_AB_BIT. ” Atleechna you are a natural.”

My eyes sparkle as I look at the proud face of a woman who never knew she would be a mama and certainly not at 65. “Nina be happy. Oksana will make you proud. At six she is fluent in Russian and English and is attacking Polish.”

Oksana holds the cards with hands that barely shake. Just tiny reminders of the drug addiction she had as a baby. “Yes, you will grow beautiful like the rose and your knowledge of the world like its thorns will keep you strong.”

I silently remove the picture of a bottle from the stack of cards. It too closely resembles the scores of bottles that Oksana’s mama found herself wrapped around. They found Oksana’s mama at the bottom of her bottle one day; a screaming 5-year-old clutching to her ankles. “What was it you poured for yourself? Sleeping pills and Vodka? The Vodka never hid the scars that you got from your husband’s beatings did it? Oksana’s little body only survived because your body shielded her. Your older son Sasha was not so fortunate. What pile of broken glass does he lie under? Prison is too good a place for a man who uses broken Vodka bottles to tattoo his son using blood as ink.”

‘”Da,” Oksana very good. You pronounced WA_TER well, just a tiny hint of a V, but not much. Nina your love has cleansed this girl like water. Yes, she will always be old for her years and bear a certain sorrow, but look at her radiant smile.”

“Dance Oksana dance with the children as they play in the waves of the Azov Sea. Fly high with the gull; he too has much knowledge of the world he sees below him. Crimea is etched with scars well hidden in the sunlight, but you understand them.”

“Persevere Nina, this is a job for a young woman. The energy and vitality of this young mind will test you. Be strong for her. For one day Oksana will be a strong woman. She will hold the hands of other young girls who suffer at the point of the needle, are cast offs, or are used by men for momentary pleasure. Shield her from her mother and father’s world. She will always wear the scars like Crimea, but she will hopefully wear bravery like a crown.”

****

I have fictionalized the story of a young girl I met while working in the Crimea enough so she can’t be identified. “Oksana’s” story is one of victory because she was rescued by a compassionate woman who lived in the neighborhood. “Oksana” would have otherwise joined her mama soon as most of the discarded children of that country do.

I’m also using this story for the Daily Post at WordPress. The challenge is to write three paragraphs (Person Place and Thing), though you can choose to write more or less if you wish — the goal is to get you watching closely, observing, and collecting people, places, and things to use in your creative writing projects. It’ s story that I believe is poignant and needs to be told.

Girl Ghost #NWCU #photography

Sometimes it’s best not to look at the reflection…

Welcome to Wednesday Wake Up Call. I’m hosting today. Hope you enjoy the prompt.

I can’t tell you how long ago it was.

Sometimes it seems like yesterday – the first time I saw her face.

There was something so familiar, though I could not quite define it.

She looks so alone that girl frozen in the mirror.

What was it she saw that caused such terror?

Her eyes are like magnets I can’t look away.

Please tell me your story. I implored on this day.

An icy hand grasped mine and took me to a place behind the staircase.

Things too horrible to be told were there. A place that was beyond cold.

A smile of knowing was glazed on a horrible eyed half face. “you are us now” he grinned.

Now there is a new face in the mirror. I have taken her place.

Please set me free!!!!!

I took a picture of this painting at a B&B. The mansion had a long history. I wondered if there was a girl captured in a frame. I think the reflection of the staircase makes the picture more complicated. Would love to know what this inspires in others…

But the Cat (Microfiction Monday)

I’m sweet – see my smile.

I would never do a thing

to cause you to revile.

But cat- spells alarm

she has a police record

as long as her arm.

Thanks to the sweet and gentle Susan who each week hosts this Micro Fiction Monday and does a fine job. Join us for the challenge to say something in few words.

What will this day hold??? (One Shot Poetry)

On this day

I am faced

with a barrage

of questions …

Who is that in the mirror?

How can it be?

How did I get here?

Is the little girl a woman now??

I was in a dream

dressed in white

long dark hair

on top of my head

I wore a veil

the scent of flowers

wafted in the breeze

***

A man was there

looked into my eyes

his smile took my fears away

our hands

were joined

***

I turn from the girl

face the man

We say

“I do”

My questions are answered

The girl is no more

the woman is held close

in the arms of the man

she loves.

****

I hope you enjoy the photography of my friend Florin. Go to his website to see is gallery

http://florindesign.com/index.html

Yes it’s another day to celebrate great poetry at One Shot Wednesday. Please come join in the fun.

www

It was over … (Part 1 – Short Story)

“It was over before it had begun… ” Mae awoke to these words banging against her head where had she heard them before??? She had to close her eyes to reach deep. Several frozen frames shot by rapidly until they stopped at…

There was the frame of a girl climbing up in a tree. Scabs on her knees; her hair in a tangled mess. “I will save you princess,” she called into the air. In her make -believe turret was a teddy bear with a satin dress. “Away with you ogres” she looked down in disgust at the ogres dressed like leaves.

Suddenly, she was yanked from her fairy tale by her older brother Charles.

“Get down here quick. He’s asking for ya.”

“I’m playing,” she pouted.

“I know sis,” he said as he smoothed the dirt from her beautiful cheek. “We don’t want him mad.”

The reel spun to another frame.

“Mommy, I will always remember this day and my special gift.” Mae smiled as she hugged her mommy and her new teddy bear. A tear fell from her eye; that was the last memory she had of her mother alive.

The frame moved. She was in her first year at the University of Louisiana. He was older; A professor, like her father. He assured her of his love for her. That he was struck by her beauty. “We will be together someday soon I promise princess,” he said as he stroked her brow and gently touched her lips. He was her first lover; she poured all her desire to be loved and adored into this talented man.

Then frames whizzed past other men who all seemed to resemble each other. Were they all brothers? “No they were all professors,” she sighed.

Then a frame with two people: Charlie her beloved brother who took good care of her. Too bad they were related he would have been a faithful lover. Rosie, a little blue eyes rosey cheeked little girl who always brought her mommy rose petals and smiles.

She pulled herself up and wondered what it had all meant. What was her life, why was her life? She didn’t know who she was anymore. “Really?” Why was there so much heartache and pain? How could she survive another day?

The last frame was more ominous. It was a girl laying with her bear. On closer inspection, it was a woman who was “girl-like.” A knife driven through the heart of the bear and the woman.

Thanks to Dom H for the Teddy Bear with the Heart

(http://www.flickr.com/photos/domhuk/197869000/)