The Last New Years Eve - A Dark Fantasy Flash Story

He was waiting for her to fall asleep. Her breathing had been labored all day, and she had been in pain, but no matter what she had found a smile, a kind word, and a loving embrace for everyone that came to see her.
She was the strongest person he had ever met, the love of his life, and for a long time, the only reason he kept on going.
She was his everything.
Now all he could do was wait.
Wait until her last breath, until the harsh truth of Cancer would take her, as it had taken every aspect of her life, exept her spirit.
Actually it had grown her spirit.
Since her diagnosis she had lived with such full vigor that is was impossible to not feel infected by her presence.
On good days, the long conversations, family gatherings and travels.
On bad days, she smiled through Chemo and the loss of her thick red hair. Her bright scarfs where adorned by lots of little glitter that she added with the help of both of our nieces, the twins glowing each step of the way, unaware that this woman full of life was slowly swallowed by death.
Finally Diana relaxed in the arms of sleep, the few minutes of peace that she now found, interrupted by horrific pain, that woke her after way to short periods of rest.
This is the way he wanted to remember her.
Peaceful and at ease, a half smile on her open lips, resting in the knowing that she was loved.
And loved she was.
He picked up the pillow that had caressed him earlier, making the hard chairs of the hospital less uncomfortable, or at least bareable.
Kissing her one more time, he whispered gently. "I love you more then you know. Good bye my love."

Crossing - A Friday Flash Fiction Dark Fantasy

She lit another candle amongst a sea of candles.
“Another one already?”
She nodded quietly, then finished her silent prayer to the Gods. Turning toward the older gentlemen she smiled sadly.
"The seventh in three days."
"It is  an epidemic then?”
“Indeed. I wish there was something more I could do.”
Charon placed his hands on her shoulders, feeling her shiver, and rubbed them gently.
“You are doing all that you can do for them, love. How long have you been out here?”
She shrugged, overlooking the now dark pavilion with distant gaze.
“A while, probably. I do not remember. It was light. I have to..”
She turned, but he held her gently, forcing the younger woman to look at him.
“You can not forget to take care of yourself, Medina.”
Quietly she nodded again, but turned.
“I will, Dad, I will. But for now I need to help them. I need to aid the Dead.”


(Charon or Kharon was the ferryman whom in Greek mythology transported the dead to the Underworld. In my story, I imagined his daughter as a Priestess aiding those who passed unexpectedly from illness, through prayers and offerings to the Gods in their behalf).

Book Review - Language Development - How to Use Activities for Toddlers to Boost Language Development by Roei Peled

Language Development by Roei Peled

I was invited by the Author to review this book, as he is a part of a writing group I belong to. As a person who has as an extensive background in early childhood development and homeschooling, I was wary about a book written by a lay person about the subject.

I found this book to be an interesting read, that could be an informative book for those new to the subject of language development of toddlers. His insight born out of necessity is written in a caring way, asking the parent to engage completely with the child, no matter if they are right on track in their development or delayed.
The only concern I have about this book is the lack of expert information. It would have been nice for the Author to back up some of his claims, such as the individual stages of development, by quoting an expert in the field to give his account more credibility. Considering that he writes about such an important subject, expert verification is an important addition necessary to ease a parents concerns.

Overall I feel very comfortable sharing this book with a new parent, who might have general questions about their child's language development.

The Gift - A Friday Flash Ghost Story

Flashcomb December 2013 Competion

The Gift

She knew he left the gift.
There was no real reason why this pretty little box, wrapped with a red bow should have been in her room.
No one had come in and out all day, no one cared enough to check on her, everyone busy with their own preparations of Holiday cheer, to even notice that she was missing from it.
She was not their favorite.
But he would have noticed. He would have wanted her to have fun, and stand in the midst of others, included in the fun and cheer.
Of course he would have. In his presence she had felt loved.
Deep, true soul mate kind of love, the one that gives  wings and allowed her to reach new heights.
And in his arms, that love had been hers.
A tear rushed down her cheek, leaving a salty, lonely line.
Quickly untying the bow, she opened the folded paper, reading it with a mixture of laughter and a quick sob.
“Go on living - promise me.”
She nodded into the seeming emptiness of the room, knowing she was not alone, never would be.
Quietly she murmured toward the unseen presence of her passed husband.
“I promise.”

       "The Gift" was written as an entry for a writing competition held by 1000 Words called "Flashcomb December 2013"  . The writing prompt was the picture of the gift above. 

Book Review: Kay Hooper's "Hostage"

Finally I had a chance to read the new book of one of my favorite Authors - Kay Hooper - "Hostage", and I was not disappointed.
A stand-alone novel, yet a part of her on-going Bishop series, Kay has again delivered a fast paced story with twists and turns you will not see coming.
Following the story of Haven operative Luther Brinkman and Undercover FBI Special Crimes Unit Agent Callie Davis in an intense cat and mouse game with an escaped felon, Kay managed to utilize paranormal aspects in a way that makes them plausible, and believable, while giving us an idea of the downside of having "extraordinary" powers and senses.
I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book, and was delighted to reconnect with some of the characters that are also present in other books.

I highly recommend that you check out her other Bishop related books, which while all stand-alone novels, give you an insight into a very intriguing paranormal FBI Unit, and its leader, Special Agent Noah Bishop.

You can find out more about Kay Hooper, her books and her charity work here on her website. 

Redemption - A Flash Fiction Horror Story

I ask for redemption, but it did not come.
No answer arrived and no ways could wash my sins away.
I had to do something, take action before the anger that had fueled my previous acts would reveal their ugly result.
Nothing, nothing I would do would unburden that within me, I thought, nothing, but sweet relief might come if I followed the plan He laid before me.
Unless, redemption would take a heavenly form.
I prayed, that night, long and hard, longer and harder then I ever had before, making sure that my words where chosen carefully.
Unlike other nights, the silence that engulfed my life was darker and emptier then usual.
Answers did not arrive.
Signs stayed away.
But the anger and the need for redemption remained.
What else did I need to do, to deserve to move on?
I began to beg on my knees, the tears of my soul pouring upon the smooth floor of the room, wearing me out, until I could do nothing but sleep.
Did He hear me at all? Was I now alone in the world, forgotten by the Most Powerful One?

                                                                                  *


The morning light revealed itself upon the bare concrete floor, uncovering every inch of imperfection as the previous night had shown within  me.
I knew now what I had to do. I knew now, that I was asked to give to others, that which I could not find within myself.

Warmer in thought and heart, I gloated in the midst of this new certainty, until it filled me completely, elating my every fiber, growing like the strong sunlight that poured more and more into the barren room.

Raising myself off my knees, I smiled, turning toward the mesmerizing sight behind me, just as the sunlight touched her tear stricken face, her hands still bound above her head, bound, wounded and filled with sin.
Carefully choosing my tools, I wondered if her blood would reflect or absorb the light.

The Line - A Flash Fiction Dark Fantasy

"Do not cross the line."
Most of us have been told not to cross a line. Usually it is meant metaphorically, designed to keep people in check.
Not in our family.
No one crossed our line. None of us dared.
While were not told any details, the stories of what would happen to us, should we dare to cross it, where as variable as our personalities.
Some of us considered trying it out.
According to family records, some did.
But none reported back to tell us what was behind the line.
They never made it back.

Still on this side of the line, live was not that bad. We had everything we needed, everything we could even wish for. Isolated, but cared for, we went on our marry way, each and every day, just like everyone else would. Following through on our duties, getting married, raising children. Live happily until our old age. Usually until very old age, as our family was filled with seniors that grazed our presence until well into their 90's.

But the line was always there.
Starring us in the face, taunting us, warning us of a world on its other side.
Questions arose and where forgotten, not answered with anything but knowing smiles of those whom had more knowledge then the person questioning.
Those who even dared to ask.
Most of us did not.
Most of us just lived.
And did not cross the line.

Maybe it was my red hair, which gave my grandfather the inclination to call me his Fire-Child. Maybe it was that I was named after the Greek Goddess of War, Athena. Or maybe it was all that and the combination of my youth that did not allow me to stay silent about a rule that was never explained, never questioned, never disobeyed.
I was different.
I questioned everything.

And got punished plenty for that.
But it did not matter to me. Everything was better then to follow mindless rules and standards, I did not choose.
After all, I was Athena, the Firechild.

I waited until everyone was busy with their duties. Bustling amongst themselves, absorbed by their routines that felt as restraining as leather reigns that held a bucking horse.
The steps through the garden were crossed quickly, and I stood before what was the chance to move toward the unknown.
A last glance upon my family, a breath, and I, the Firechild stepped beyond was, into the New.


                             

The Pendant - A Friday Flash Horror Story

The line to the pendant was long, as it was every year.
Our family was growing, after all, and everyone who was old enough to read, took part of the yearly blessing.
As usual we were exited, the chatter in the line was loud enough, that Grandma turned our way frequently, hushing, finger pressed at her lips, which were curved with the light and kind smile that grazed them often.
Oh how much we loved these moments!
Presents where already opened, our stomachs comfortably filled with the feast of ham, and sausages, duck and stuffing, pie and cookies which we had indulged in earlier. As a family filled with wonderful cooks who’s love poured in each morsel of deliciousness,  we savored food, gatherings and the warmth that came with it.
Never was there more then  a stern word, never did our families table be disgraced by quarrels, that occurred in so many families during the holiday season. We all really wanted to be there.
To enjoy each other.
And - to receive our blessing.

We knew that with each word the pendant revealed, another great year was brought forth, it’s power sharing a favor, that would resonate throughout each day of the coming year.
Last year, laughter had been the most common word and indeed the joyful sharing of fun had been more exhilarating then I could ever remember.
The anticipation was great, watching one by one moving closer toward my Grandfather whom held precious pendent that had been in our family for as long as anyone could remember.
It was beautiful, delicately gold framed, with an interior that appeared to be onyx, but no one was quite sure, as its depth when stared upon any other day, then the holy day of the Solstice, seemed endless and all consuming. The small sapphires sparkled in the sunlight, that glowed through the open bay window, our hairs moving gently in the soft breeze.
Two more before me.
One more.

A scream pierced the light scene, swallowing our living room with a darkness it had never embraced before. The chill in the air was felt by everyone whom had frozen in midst movement, their eyes gazed toward the blackness of the pendant whom for the first time held more then one thought, as it directed it self toward my older sister.
No one moved, no one seemed able to move, so I broke through to look upon the dreaded words that had brought forth a scream, and it was my turn to be consumed with chill.
“All Fun Must Find An End”, I read allowed, my words seeming to remove the spell of silence from the room, as everyone poured toward the scene to get a glimpse of the words I had spoken.
Everyone but my sister.
I turned toward her, as she had not moved since her uttering of despair, frozen more then we all had been, stiff and cold, staring forward toward my Grandfather, who whispered her name, then louder and louder.
“Nadine, Nadine, Nadine, NAADDIIIIIINEEE!”
I looked up to find her beautiful gaze, only to be rewarded by the black emptiness of the pendant, now borne deeply into her eyes.

Claudia Blanton Copyright 2013

Stolen Moments - A Friday Flash Fiction Romance

“I am not sure how I can go on home, pretending everything is okay.”
“I know you can. You are the strongest person I know.”
“Not without you.”
“You are not without me.”
“You will be hear, three flight hours away, and I will be home with him. I am not sure I want to go home. I feel torn.”
“Yes you want to.  For now.”
“I wonder if we ever learn to let go. How long it will take us to move forward.”
“You know I can't answer that.”
She sighed, and he smiled, kissing her gentle with a longing that always aroused a mixture of passion and sadness in her.
He could not have her.
She could not have him.
They both had to go back to a life they did not want to live.
Stolen moments.
A few hours, sometimes a day or two, together.
Their hearts never really apart.

“He won't really notice that I am back. Not that he ever notices me anymore.”
“Too busy with managing your wealth, I guess.”
“You mean spending it.”
“Why don't you cut him off?”
“Because.. “, her voice trailed off.
“Because you feel obligated. Because his family helped you, so you could get to the point of being as successful as you are. Because you think he was here for you, when you had nothing.”
“All true“, she answered with resignation.
“Still, you know better then to allow him to take advantage of your wealth and your fame.”
“Bestselling novelists are not famous.”
Some are, you are. Ever heard of Stephen King?"
“Very funny, Dan.”
She paused touching his cheek gently, as he closed his eyes for a second at her loving touch..
“Leave her.”
“I can't, you know that.”, his voice heavier with sadness then before.
“I will not leave a dying woman alone in her last few weeks of life.”
“She has lived longer then expected, two years longer.”
“Because she is a fighter.”
“You still love her.”
“No, but I do care for her. She is kind. Almost too kind.”
Mary sighed and rested her head on his chest.
They stood in silence for a moment, until the beeping of the alarm set on her smart phone brought them back to reality.

“You have to go. Don't miss your flight.”
She kissed him once more gentle but short, then straightened herself, her face now filled with the professional smile she put forth most of the time.
Unless she was with him.

Stolen moments.

“Call me.”
Not waiting for his answer, she walked quickly through the front door.

Copyright Claudia H. Blanton 2013

A Little Compassion - A Flash Fiction Short Story

"Mrs. Phillips died."
"I know."
The young woman in white sighed. "Family has been notified?"
"Of course. But no one has arrived."
"Still not. She's been here for two weeks."
"I wonder.."
"Wonder what?"
"If they even knew how much she liked this story."
Melinda smiled.
"The little prince, yea she told me too. Not exactly the average reading for a 42 year old woman."
"She loved it. She told me, that she would read it to her son every night, when he was a child."
"Then he should have been the one reading it to her.", Melinda answered low, but with a harshness that defied her kind eyes.
"It's okay, I didn't mind."
The woman in white hugged her friend, then handed her a chart.
"New patient. Mrs. Walker. End-stage breast-cancer. Could you?"
Terry nodded with a sigh, grabbed the chart and moved out of the nurses station.
"Of course."


Copyright Claudia H. Blanton 2013

The Cop - Flash Fiction Story

Grieving families.
My personal nightmare.

And I am a part of their nightmare.
I have to poke into their lives, dig deeper then anyone would like me to.
Really, I do care.
Still, I have to do my job.

It is not my fault, that I uncover mistresses and secret bank accounts.
I am aware of the dilemma an no longer hidden drug problem will be for the family and with your friends.
Yes, I am sorry to hear, that the man in the bag, being driven away,  is someones father. Someones friend.
It touches my soul deeper then I will ever share with anyone, and definitely not with you
.
Even my wife, and absolutely not with my children.
Keeping a brave face for their sake.
And for yours.

Never-less, the scars this and every death leave upon my soul, are deep.
They wake me from each sleep, never restful, always disturbed.
Nightmares of tangled bodies, and the ability of human disdain of one another.
How can people be so cruel?

Yet, between the wanting to drown your and my sorrows in the bottom of a whiskey bottle, I return.
I always return.
Because someone has to.
Someone has to clean up, make sure that at least some of those scumbags will be locked up, away from you.

So I return.
Again.
Tonight.
My badge and gun always in reach.

But the question remains.
How can I survive another death?

Aftermath

I am the shadow
cleaning up
human brutality
left in the wind
after your imprint
disappears

I am the absolution
your transport
to another dimension
blood collector
bone crusher
alone

I am the solution
breaking whom
brought death
upon this place
in the morning hours
darkness gone


I am the mourner
at your destination
tears streaming
as the afterthought
of your life
passes through
left behind

Copyright Claudia H. Blanton 2013

The Ultimate Power - A Flash Horror Story

Ultimate power.
What a wonderful presents to receive for one's 18th birthday.
Or was it?

Terry contemplated his next move.
Should he use this gift for his own gain? Play the lottery and get the winning ticket? Bet on horses? Sleep with Beth?
He sat upon the old, worn out couch of his mother's, the flowery cushions barely softening his seat.
How about revenge on Master Stevenson, the bastard who drove over his beloved cat?
Another option would be to take care of that freaking eye sore of a house across the street, INCLUDING the loud brat pack that lived there, finally allowing him to sleep through one entire night.
Being rich and famous could be interesting as well.
Choices, so many choices.
Terry smiled and closed his eyes.
Trying to decide alone would be fun beyond measure, more fun then he had in a long time.
But of course, after his nap.

                                                                                     *


James gazed upon his sleeping brother.
The Chosen One.
The First Born.
If he would have been the first born, the gift of Ultimate Power would have bestowed upon HIM.
HE would have been the one making choices, not Terry.
And he would have made them faster then that boy in front of him.
It was not fair, never fair, his entire life always playing the second fiddle was bad enough, but this was the last straw.
He could not take it anymore.
Not for one more second.

                                                                                     *

Diving the Henkel's Chef knife into his brothers abdomen was easier then expected. The quality of the knife his mother always praised, loudly proclaiming her prize possession, was a perfect murder weapon after all.
Easy to handle, not too heavy, not too light, a masterful balance.
The blood soaked the flowery couch and cushions, but he was not too concerned about that.
His mother deserved a new couch anyway.
Picking up the box that contained the Ultimate Power, he grinned from ear to ear.
Yeah, getting rid of everything in this dump would be the second thing he would do with his gift.
After all, he was now The Chosen One.


Copyright Claudia H. Blanton 2013

Celebrate The Small Things - Winter Holiday Edition

It's celebrate the small things time again!

For those of you who do not know about this blog hop, it was created by VikLit to which we usually add every Friday (I know I am a day late, sorry) a small list of what we are exited and grateful about from the previous week.

This week, I am enjoying a warm day within the midst of coldness. I am glad that it is today, considering that today is Hecate Trivia, a celebration of the Goddess Hecate, whom I honor as a part of my spiritual path. I will be leaving an offering outside once it is dark, and the weather is perfect for that.

Also I am celebrating that I have been working a lot on polishing the two blogs I run as well as the associated social network presence. I got some really good tips from a few other bloggers and articles that I will work through and implement, so that shall be fun.

I am celebrating that I found a few books that I will be reading over the next few days - time permitting. They are all e-books, some non-fiction, others fiction. I will most likely post about them, once I have read some of them. Always fun to read.

So why don't you join us for the "Celebrate The Small Things" blog hop and have a wonderful week!

Blessings!

Zombies Among Us

There are zombies amongst us. I have compiled a list of the types that have been recently discovered:

Ice Zombies
Zombies whom forgot how to care about the plight of other zombies - see Koch Brothers

Stiff Zombies (also known as Stiffs)
Those who can not see other zombie's point of view as being valid. Very inflexible beings.

Overindulgent Zombies
Will eat anything and anyone in their way. They tend to be the most prevelant around the winter holiday season.

Coward Zombies
Those whom hide in the corner, while the herd of zombies in front of them devours everything in their paths. Usually pertains to zombies who think that pretending that the mayhem around is not there, makes it go away.

War Zombies
Used to invade other countries to turn them into their own brand of zombies, so they can be assimilated.

Vampire Zombies
Zombies who will suck the last bit of blood out of anyone, after slowly destroying the brain - also known as Fox News

Revenge - A Friday Flash Horror Story

"You really thought you were going to get away with this? You really thought I wasn't going to be upset?"
She pointed the shotgun at him, and his panicked eyes moved between the nozzle and her face.
"I didn't think...."
"Of course you didn't. You never thought. You never thought about how I would feel when you killed him. Just like you never thought that I would check up on you, be smart enough to uncover all of your secrets and lies. You know what your problem is always has been? You never thought!"
She spit the words into his direction with an deep hatred, that had been bottled up for a long time.
12 years.
12 wasted years.
God, it felt good to finally be able to openly say, what she had wanted to say for so very long.
"Did you think of the children? Did you think of what it would do to them? They loved him! They adored him."
"I thought he was going to hurt me"
"He would have never hurt you, never. He would have never hurt any of us. He was loyal, sweet, and caring. He was better then you. And I should have seen that. Unconditional love, Jerry. He showed unconditional love, something you have never been capable off."
"But...."

She shot him in the knee before he could finish his sentence. His wail of pain surged through the emptiness of their property, disappearing in the darkness of the forest, that surrounded them.
"No one can hear you, dear, remember? No one cares. Isn't that what you always told us? No one ever loved you as much as the One you just killed."
"Beatrice.."
"Do not speak my name!"

She shot him again, his other knee busting, the torn flesh twisted on the concrete floor of their garage.
His garage.
"Bea, please" he moaned.
"No Jerry, I had enough. I had it with you, the kids had it with you, we all do. You did this to yourself, Jerry. And now it is time for you to leave."

Without waiting for anymore begging wails, she stepped closer toward her tormented husband, and shot him in the face.

Dropping the weapon, she turned quickly and ran toward the motionless figure laying on their front lawn.
He was dead, and all he had wanted was to protect her.
From him, from the monster her husband had become.
Or always had been.

Gently she picked up the sweet, heavy body of her furry creature into her arms, laying snout against her chest, her sobbing shaking both of them, while her tears wet the short trimmed fur of her dead, beloved chocolate lab.

© Claudia H. Blanton 2013

Express Yourself - People That Inspire

e 

I love this weeks "Express Yourself" Blog question - Who is someone you look up to? There are two particular people that come to mind, so here is my list:

1. J.K. Rowling
Not only because she is a great writer, but also an inspirational person. Coming from humble beginnings as a single mother, to a multi-millionaire (okay she was a billionaire at one point), she shares the fruits of her success by giving back. She has never forgotten where she came from, never forgotten those whom are struggling every day, so to me she is an inspiration.

2. Joss Whedon
A man who openly stands for women's rights and equality. Brought strong female characters to the forefront in many of his creations. A great man in my book.

Who is someone you look up to?
For more blogs that participate in the "Express Yourself" blog hop, look at the list below

Family Tradition

Family Tradition

Dysfunction
ignored perpetrators
dancing with victims
of crimes hidden
by family tradition
rules of silence
unspoken
yet powerfully enforced
while pretending
the bleeding hearts
away

© Claudia H. Blanton 2013

Celebrate The Small Things - Dr. Who Edition

It's celebrate Dr. Who time!

Today, we are celebrating the 50th anniversary special of Dr. Who. We, that means the kids and me. We got the snacks ready, coffee made, television on, and are ready!

These are the fun little moments that are wonderful to celebrate together as a family.

Wishing you all a fun week - blessings!

The Last Thanksgiving - A Friday Flash Horror Story

The Last Thanksgiving

“Seriously, you want me to sit next to Uncle Herbert? He smacks his lips.”
I bit my tongue trying not to snap at my nephew, whom I am sure would rather be somewhere else then here at my house.
Anywhere else on the planet.
“Just sit down“, his mother scolded him, shooting me a small smile as she plopped upon her own chair, as usual barely registering her sons bad behavior.
Like when he kicked the neighbors Chihuahua.
Or locked his 3 year old cousin in the trunk of her mother’s car.
Or beat up of the kid with autism in school.

Everyone made excuses for him.

Everyone else made excuses for each other.
Or worse, simply ignored the fact that there was something happening in the first place.

There were two types of people in our family, the “Ignorers” and the “Perpetrators”.
Both would be sitting at my table tonight.
Pretending.
Eating.
Conversing.
As if everything was normal, nothing ever happened.
All they wanted from me was free food.

It took all of them a moment to get seated, unusually mannered, in anticipation of a full meal. For a full meal even those with the worst inner demons and hidden habits could behave long enough to be waited upon.
After all the facade was what mattered.
It was practiced well.

Today it was at display at my house.

I brought the meal out, followed by a polite applause, but without help, just as I was expected.
The turkey, heavy and just the way they liked it, the gravy thick, the stuffing, plenty.

All with a special ingredient.

No one had noticed the cards, my fine calligraphy of black on warm light brown, the words meticulously written with great attention to detail.

I had made sure everything was right.

No one noticed my smile, my empty plate, until it was too late for them to stop, realizing what I had done.

I enjoyed the moment of realization before death came for them, one, then the other, the poison taken its quick effect as it had been promised to me.
Watching, I moved one of the cards out of my way, observing the finality of it all, the words silently shouting in the midst of the chaos.

“Happy Last Thanksgiving”

© Claudia H. Blanton 2013

The Picture - A Friday Flash Short Story

the following story is from a challenge to write with the following picture as a prompt. The short story was meant to be 145 to 155 words. You can find out more about this writing challenge here. 

The Picture

I miss her with every fiber of my being.
I keep holding on to the only thing that is left of the live we have spend together, the only thing I own - a picture of her.
What would live have been like if she would not have walked down that alley? The choices she made, the death she endured, let me to here.
If I can not spent the prime of my life with the love and reason for my life, it has become devout of meaning.

Maybe it’s meaning can be found again here, in the stillness of this place, in the connection with faith and nature.
But to experience that I must let go off you, and I will never be able to let go off you, not with the depth required of me.
I wonder if they know?
How can they not know?


© Copyright Claudia H. Blanton 2013

Writing - A Poem

Johannes Vermeer - "A Lady Writing"

Writing

In the flow of things
words dance upon the page
with a rhythm of their own
greeting friendly faces
and deadly foes
battling hero conquering
fears of a lifetime
taking us along
for a thrilling ride

Copyright Claudia Blanton 2013

Celebrate The Small Things Time - It's Getting Cold Outside!

"Cultivate the habit of being grateful for every good thing that comes to you, and give thanks continuously. And because all things have contributed to your advancement, you should include all things in your gratitude."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Time for Celebrating The Small Things Blog Post Again. I hope you all had a wonderful week and much to celebrate about. Here is my little list for this week:


I have been utterly grateful that the cold time of the year has not found us here in Florida until two days ago. This was so far a very warm November, and I am very grateful for that.

I am also grateful that the heater is in working order. Not that I am expecting to need it too often here, but I made it a point to try it out, just to be on the safe side. It is working well.

I think I am going to have to break down and buy one of my dogs a sweater. I am grateful that we have a large pet store in walking distance from our condo, and it allows the pets to come in, so I can try some on her. She has - unlike my other dog - a very short coat, which does not protect her much from the harsher wind and cold.

I have been writing like a mad woman, getting more articles out to various sites, writing short stories and working on the books. After a few days of dealing with family obligations, it felt really good to sit back down in front of the computer and let the words flow. There is nothing I'd rather do then write.

The Paper - A Friday Flash Horror Story

Everybody dreaded getting the newspaper. But like a good little herd of sheep, every morning, everyone who was old enough to read, stood in line in the three places the paper was given out - the central grocery store, the post office on the other side of town, and the largest church, adjacent to the state park.
Everyone hesitated to look at the obituaries at the end of the publication, but they all ended up doing so, no matter which ritual they compiled to get there, or how many distractions where in their day.
They all looked, just like my parents did, everyday, waiting until we were home, where we sat around the table. My father overlooked the procedure, being the one who quietly read each name as it showed itself upon that dreadful page.
No one wanted to see their name there.
No one wanted to see the name of a loved one there.
Because the paper knew.
It knew when it was your time to die.

This morning, like any other, he was reading quietly, sipping the cup of coffee Mom provided for, each and every time, freshly brewed, moved into the fine china our Grandmother had brought from Germany. The delicate handles never hid the slight shaking of his hand, and the smile of relief he gave all of us, when none of our names where listed.
Another day living without the burden of death.
His expression on this morning was different.
He starred at me, a deep stare, one what questioned but one that also knew that I had been watching him. Closely.
He quickly rose up, leaving the paper behind, moving out of the room, as I grabbed it, frozen by the words in front of me, in the silence of dinning table.
“Dr. Wayne Duncan, 52, will be put to rest at the Cornerstone Baptist Church, together with his wife Sherry Duncan 43. The couple will be missed by their three children, Mary, Jennifer, and Jackson.”
In a move to keep the sight from my younger siblings, I pulled it closer and turned it, only to be shocked by its headline.
“Two dead in murder-suicide. Prominent West-End Doctor beats his wife to death, then shoot and kills himself.”

Express Yourself - 5 Favorite TV Shows

And its "Express Yourself" time again.
This time with a subject I love - drum roll please:

Favorite TV Shows!

I love movies and well made television shows, specifically this year, as it is filled with wonderful shows, new ones and old favorites that have entertained us this season. So without further ado and in no particular order of like and importance, here they are.




The Blacklist
OMG - yes I really typed that - this show is the absolute best piece of television I have seen in a long time. I was hooked from the beginning. This show is filled with memorable, well acted out characters, a brilliant multi-episode story arch, and individual story lines that have everything a crime drama should have - so if you have not watched it, you are missing out, big time!

Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D
Okay, I am a Marvel fan, so I am biased. Not only that, Joss Whedon is the writer/director/brainchild behind it, what can go wrong? Not much. Love it.

Castle
Casket (Castle and Beckett, the two main characters morphed into one) are just adorable. Nathan Fillion is brilliant as the smart @# writer who falls in love with is muse, the Detective Kate Beckett. I am not going to tell you more, you just have to go and watch it - go on, get caught up already!

Arrow
Stephen Amell does an very impressive job in portraying the DC comics hero Green Arrow - with a nice, creative and not always cooperating team by his side. Oh did I mention that Steve is absolute eye candy and does have his shirt off on occasion? While the show in itself is well done, it does add a nice visual to the mix. (I know I am bad)

The Witches of East End
Well I am a Witch, so call me bias here, but this thing is actually good. That was a surprise for me, I really thought it was going to be just a wanna be Charmed, but it has its perks, and not overly done special effects. Nice Sunday show.

So that was my list, what do you guys watch? I am very interested in your list.

Have a great week,

Blessings!

Claudia

Hell's End - A Flash Fiction

"How the hell did that happen?"
"No clue, never mind that, how are we going to get out of here now?"
Steve sighed and took a closer look around the neighborhood they were in. He was not familiar with this street, but had passed through via the larger avenues in the area before today.
"Got no idea. Never mind how this happened, we got to get out of  here before he shows up."
"Not with the car. We are so not getting around that broke down van." Luke grimaced at the white smoking vehicle that blocked  his Ford in the narrow alley.
"No shit."
"Don't be a smart ass, Steve. It was your idea to get over here without any real planning. Damn you know what he is capable off."
"I want him out of her live."
"So do I, but we could have done this better."
"No one forced you to come with me, Cuz"
"And let you run into trouble all by yourself,? How stupid do you think I am?"
Steve grinned without answering.
"Thanks. Still no reception?"
Steve starred again at his Smartphone, and shook his head.
"None, dead as a door nail, and not much charge left."
"Time to get moving then."

Quickly moving past the broke down, smoking pick up, the abandoned their car in the tight alley, their breath quickly accelerating  as they tried to make some distance from that dump of a place, Steve's sister used to call home.
Hardly a home, considering the man living with her had a preference for breaking her bones and almost all of her will, until she finally had enough and left him, coming to the first place, the safest place she could think off.
His house.

They arrived at the end of the tight alley, with Luke checking the reception before Steve had a chance to ask.
"Finally, Luke nodded into his direction.
"We got reception"


*



They made it home just in time.

Three police cars, one of them crushing  his mothers rose garden, the others blocking the entrance to his little blue house took over the small front yard.
The flashing lights threw blinding pulses through the always quiet neighborhood, with a sterile coldness and irritating rhythm that took their ability to move out of the cab with the usual swiftness from them.
Silence,.
One breath.
Another. Then Luke spoke gravely.
“I got it, go.”
Steve moved automatically, grazing over the scene, trying to get a glimpse of it all, looking for him, looking for her, cursing himself under his breath, for leaving her alone at his home, without protection, without anyone by her side, when he had known that she was not safe,.

Not even here, not even in his own house, the home they grew up in.

He should have known nothing would have stopped that bastard from getting what he thought was his.
“No, no, no“, he murmured with increasing loudness, not wanting to see that which happened, but moving forward with the same automatic motion that propelled him this far.

Four more steps until the front step.
Three.
Two.

The sound of his sister yelling his name was the sweetest sound he had ever heard, mirroring her rushing embrace as she pushed his arms around him, shaking, shivering more then he had ever felt another human being shiver.
“He broke in, just broke in, he wanted to kill me.”
Squeezing him even harder he added. “Steve, he was trying to kill me.”
Her sobbing, made her words temporarily impossible, as he stood their holding her until her crying allowed words to come forth again.
“I shot him, Steve. I was so scared and I shot.”
The release of the breath he had been holding without realization, created an animalistic sound  of release he had no idea he was capable off, and he dropped to his knees, still holding onto his sister, his precious, safe and breathing sister.

It was over.
Her nightmare was finally over.


© Claudia Blanton 2013

Express Yourself - Favorite Subject in Highschool/College

This weeks "Express Yourself" post ask us (I know I am late) to share what our favorite subject in Highschool/College was.

For me it was English, not so surprising, but my Highschool English teacher was also my favorite teacher as well as the Head of the Choir Department. Because of his double duty, and the fact that many of my class mates where also in the Choir, he incorporated our English lessons and artistic expression, meaning he would teach us how to speak and pronounce the language correctly through song and by participating in international festivals around the city.

For those whom are wondering, I was raised in Germany, in Southern Bavaria to be exact, so my love for expressing myself in English might have been a surprise to some as much it was a surprise to me. I was lucky enough to have a bookstore near by, which had a large section of English books, which I devoured.

What was your favorite subject?

Blessings and have a great week!

Claudia

Inspiration For Writers

Quotes inspire me, motivate me to keep on writing, sometimes even strike a nerve that ends up developing into a story, poem or finds its way in my books. Inspirational quotes for writers are specifically beautiful, more so when rejection slips arrive or the dreaded writer's block makes the continuation on a project hard if not impossible.

Today, I wanted to share some of these quotes. Maybe they will also inspire you.

"You must keep sending work out; you must never let a manuscript do nothing but eat its head off in a drawer. You send that work out again and again, while you're working on another one. If you have talent, you will receive some measure of success - but only if you persist."

- Isaac Asimov


"If you've FINISHED writing a novel you are amongst the elite!!! You ARE NOT A FAILURE IF YOU CANNOT LIVE OFF YOUR BOOKS. You only fail by NOT TRYING."

- Nadia Cornier


"Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful people with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan 'press on' has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race."

- Calvin Coolidge



“Creativity is an act of defiance.”

- Twyla Tharp


“The secret of it all is to write in the gush, the throb, the flood of the moment–to put things down without deliberation–without worrying about their style–without waiting for a fit time or place. I always worked that way. I took the first scrap of paper, the first doorstep, the first desk, and wrote–wrote, wrote…By writing at the instant, the very heartbeat of life is caught.”

- Walt Whitman

Celebrate The Small Things - All's Well That Ends Well

"All's Well That Ends Well"

Indeed the theme of the week.

After a rather turbulent last few days, and no sure end in sight, finally, what I had planned for has come forth. While I can not go into details, I am tremendously grateful that the opportunity I was hoping for, occurred and exactly in the time frame I hoped, even though it did not look like it would. I really do not like last minute things, it makes me nervous and questions my resolve. I rather plan, know when things should occur, how to do something, maybe even over-prepare, but then life happens, and life is certainly not always that neat, at least not for me, lol.

I am  also grateful that, while this new "adventure" will cause more work for me, my daughter offered to help me where ever she can. She is such a wonderful young woman, and I am incredibly proud of how grown up and centered she is, even though she is not 16 yet - at least until December.

Thor 2 is out - which is another wonderful thing to be grateful for. We won't have time to watch it until next week, but as Marvel fans the entire family is exited about this movie. So guess I am grateful for Marvel and the whole Avengers franchise - yes I am a Geek, lol.

I hope you all had many things to celebrate, many occasions to spend in happiness and blessed to be surrounded by people you love and love you.

Hugs and Blessings

Claudia

Celebrate The Small Things - Welcome To November!

Wow this year has gone by fast so far. It is almost time to start listening to Holiday music, the decorations are already up in most stores, and I am not so sure what to think about that.

But today I am celebrating one part of that season - the music. I love music with a passion. As a rule though I do not listen to any holiday music until the day after Samhain/Halloween. So this was the day.

And I ran accross a favorite, "Thankful" by Josh Groban (from the CD Noel)

Here are some of the lyrics (which I thought where fitting for this celebrating blog)

Thankful

Somedays we forget

To look around us

Somedays we can't see

The joy that surrounds us

So caught up inside ourselves

We take when we should give.

So for tonight we pray for

What we know can be.

And on this day we hope for

What we still can't see.

It's up to us to be the change

And even though we all can still do more

There's so much to be thankful for.

Look beyond ourselves

There's so much sorrow

It's way too late to say

I'll cry tomorrow

Each of us must find our truth

It's so long overdue

So for tonight we pray for 

What we know can be

And every day we hope for

What we still can't see

It's up to us to be the change

And even though we all can still do more

There's so much to be thankful for.

Even with our differences 

There is a place we're all connected

Each of us can find each other's light

So for tonight we pray for

What we know can be

And on this day we hope for 

What we still can't see

It's up to us to be the change

And even though this world needs so much more

There's so much to be thankful for

To me, for tonight, this just says it all.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Claudia

The Final Heist - Friday Flash Fiction Horror Story

This was supposed to be our last job. It was large enough to set us for life, both of us, and our families, reaching our goal of financial independence a few years earlier then expected.
A quick job, in and out, methodical and clean, a robbery of its finest and planned to the T.
Nothing was going to stop us, after all, we knew how to act quick, and in all of our years of criminal activity we never had to physically harm anyone.
We were proud of that fact.
We had principles.
And we knew how to stay out of the radar of the police.

Everything was planned, today was supposed to be the day and all we had to do was wait until it was past midnight. We had found the perfect place to watch and wait, to embrace and be embraced by the darkness that was going to be absolute on this day before the New Moon. We were used to waiting patiently, our patience had been practiced like an artist practiced his specialty.

What added to the satisfaction was that we were robbing those who robbed others.

Then everything that could go wrong went wrong.

We did not even make it out of our car when he found us. Dan was dead before he could react, his throat slashed with a quick efficiency that only a master could bring forth. He knocked me out, before I was able to reach for the Magnum in the glove compartment. He wanted to take his time with me.

In all of our luck and precision, our planning and concise pre-arrangements we had to park ourselves in the hunting grounds of a serial killer.

A serial killer with preferences for blond women.

Just after midnight, the darkness covering the area as deep as it could, with such an completeness I had never seen before, the time when we were supposed to rake in the heist of our lifetime, I began begging him to let me die.

© Claudia H. Blanton 2013

The Professional - A Haunting October Blogfest Story

Time for a Haunting October Blogfest Story! 

"The Professional" 

I take my job seriously.

While I find it arguably important, many might not agree, but I have never been someone whom cared too much what others thought of my activities. Trust me, that does not make me heartless, but I do know how to separate my personal feelings from my professional life.
After all I am a professional.

Sipping on my cappuccino, I watch her closely. She seems nervous, anxious for the same reason that I was watching her.
She is meeting him.
For the third time this week.

Usually I prefer not to do surveillance, I find the long hours of spying upon the deep secrets everyone keeps redundant and painstaking, but I did it this time. For this special client.
He was important after all.
And I owed him gratitude.
Not sure watching his wife cheat on him was the preferred way to pay him back, but if that is what he asked of me, and paid good money for, I would do it.
After all, I am a professional.

And there he is again, the well build young lover of hers, greeting her with the same smile, that seems to turn her from a serious woman in her mid 30’s  into a giddy teenager in love for the first time.

Stolen moments together.

They have no idea what is in store for them.

*


They had taken their time, as usual, in his small condo on the other side of town. The place was private and hidden, a perfect lovers nest.
A perfect place to hide from unseen eyes.
And a perfect place for me to hide from them.

Their routine was predicable, the time when lights when on and off in his bedroom coincided with the love making that occurred, then the light in in the open kitchen, living room area was illuminated to its fullest.
Sex and dinner.
Cheating makes hungry, so it seems.
I know, she was not expecting to having to leave this time, just like two weeks ago, her husband expected to travel half way around the world. She would relax after their meal, and fall asleep in his bed.

Perfect.

*

The darkness hides me well as I move smoothly around the quiet condo, but it does not slow me down. I know every inch of his place, know every placement of his furniture, just like I know his habits.
After all, I am a professional.

No one expects me to be here, their deaths quiet and efficient, no time for them to wake from their deep slumber, one last time.
One, two.
Shots, no sounds, the silencer doing its job as it is meant to.
Fast, clean, easy.

As I turn away from their bodies, I feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Another job well done. Another act fulfilled, in a methodical and efficient manner.

Some people need killers.
I provide that service.

I am a professional, after all.

© Claudia H. Blanton 2013


For more info on this blogfest, follow this link: http://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/

Catch Up Time - Haiku, Halloween Candy and Haunting, Oh My!

Can you catch time lost

dancing in the leaves of fall

before its too late? 

© Claudia Blanton 2013

Not to be confused with Ketchup, its always time for ketchup, but right now I am trying to get caught up with my weekly postings, so I am going to combine the Express Yourself (sorry I am late) with blog hop news and stuff.

All right, updates first.
I am participating in this years Wep Bloctober Fest Haunting on the 30th of October. As a part of this blog hop anything related to Halloween goes, and I already have the perfect little story planned. Really looking forward to this.

I am also absolutely, without a doubt participating in NaNoWriMo this year. There are books that have to be finished, and I am using this commitment to make it so. No more excuses, get er' done. That's it.

My other blog has not gotten as much of my attention as needed, because of the time I put in my writing and into trading (yes I wrote trading, as in stock market - there is a horror story right there), but I am planning on getting that under control as well. You can find the Shrine of Hecate blog by using the link on the top of the blog.

Now to Express Yourself - yay!

Well we were supposed to write about the favorite candy we enjoyed finding in our halloween bag, well I have a tie here between - drum roll please - Reeses and Almond Joy. Yes I know it is boring, but I like both. The spoiled rotten European part of me would prefer some Milka Chocolate, or some Lindt but hey that is a little unreasonable for a Halloween bag. And peanut butter as well as some coconut are always a winner. My kids would not agree, lol. My son is a Kitkat kind of person, while my daughter would prefer something salty, like pretzels.

So that's all for now folks. Hope you are having a wonderful week.

Claudia

Halloween - A Poem

Halloween

Danger lurking in the street
Shadows you will never meet

Until the wrong turn in the night
Shapes fun into a frightful sight

Of bloody mayhem, torn apart
Mangled pieces of a heart

The spirits left to haunt the space
Float amongst us without grace

And merge with living souls to play
Creating terror on this day.

© Claudia Blanton 2013

However you choose to celebrate this holiday - Happy Hallween and blessed Samhain to all of you!

Celebrate The Small Things - Week of Oct. 26th - Celebrating Women's Rights

Running a little late this week with my celebrate the small things blog post, but out of reasons that are indeed reasons to celebrate. My husband is home and has off for the next few days, so we are celebrating by having a cook out (yesterday), taking the dogs to their favorite park and a picnic (today) and doing some fun shopping (tomorrow). So not much time online, but I am sure I will be back on a more regular blogging schedule once the short vacation is over.

I also wanted to celebrate the fact that I was born in (Germany) and live now (USA) in a country where we as women have fundamental  freedom, freedom to work without having to ask for permission of a male guardian, freedom to drive by ourselves, freedom to choose the clothes we wear. Of course there are important improvements and fights we as women still have to conduct in the US, such as the earnings gap and access to child care and abortion rights, but these are small compared to the challenges that the women in countries like Saudi Arabia, Iran and Afghanistan face.

The reason I chose to celebrate that today, was because I was inspired by the "protest" in Saudi Arabia for women's right to drive, which was scheduled for October 26th, and in solidarity with them.

Blessings to all of you

Claudia

The Foster Home - A Friday Flash Horror Story

“Ouch!”
The prick on her finger produced a deep red drop of blood, but Danny resisted the urge to move it toward her mouth.
She had not expected it to hurt this bad.
What the heck.

“Oh hold still, you are such a baby.” Tess shook her head at the younger of the pair.
“Yeah right, and who was the one who got all squeamish earlier?”
“I don’t like guts and gore, all right? I prefer clean deaths, singular shot, a quick prick with a syringe filled with poison, a quick snap of the neck. Not the messy kind.”
“You mean my kind.”
“Oh don’t be such a baby, I did not mean to criticize your style of murder. You got the job done, all that matters. And your blood sugar is fine, hon. You don’t have diabetes. I told you not to listen to her bullshit.”
“Well now I don’t have to listen to her bullshit anymore, do I?”

Her friend laughed, looking toward the end of the hallway, where the closed door separated them from the still warm bodies.
“Want some of the cookies?”
“Nah, but that coffee smells good.”
She took a quick sip. “Taste good too - you want some?”

That was one thing the Tyrant had been really good at, making coffee, pouring it into the delicate flower cups with the thin golden rim and the tiny handle. Her favorite cups, which the kids were never allowed to touch unless there was a visit from the Department. Then, it was time for delicate cups, and delicate cookies, and beautiful clothes reserved for special occasions.

Tess shook her head, the blond strings of her hair moving down into her face, which she snapped back quickly,  a gesture Danny had come accustomed to over the last 10 years they known each other.

They were more sisters then friends, foster sisters, knowing each others greatest secrets and fears, discovering them one by one, as they were both held in this barbaric household, that had provided the perfect environment to create disturbed individuals.

Or killers.

They had spend most of their pre-teens and teenager years in this pretty home with so many secrets. Secret beatings, secrets starvation's, secret men who liked little girls. Hey the Tyrant knew how to make the most money out of her projects. She had been a business woman to the core.

That ugly lady with the crocked teeth but perfect smile, hiding behind that prim and proper exterior of Sunday school teacher dresses and gentle voice, the real monster only the children got to see.
On a regular basis.

But no more.
No more monster, no more beatings, no more days locked up in moldy closet in the basement.

Danny smiled and lifted up her head, glaring at her friend, whom freed the large and very sharp kitchen knife from blood and finger prints.

Free at last.

Moonlight At The Mountains - A Full Moon Poem

Moonlight At The Mountains

The Moon, one star
crickets in the trees,
light, there!
      -  Not far!

                          Watching,

Quiet trees, swaying
only silence remaining
beneath the mountains
      -  What a beauty they are!

© Claudia Blanton 2013

Positively Grateful - A Celebrate The Small Things Blog Entry

Short pause of silence

deep gratitude warms the heart

dancing leaves of fall 

© Claudia Blanton 2013

Time for the weekly "Celebrate the small things"!

In this (again as usual) busy week, there are multitudes of things to be grateful for. 

We celebrated some special accomplishments in my husband's business. Being a business owner in turbulent times can be trying, but we are so grateful for the opportunities that we receive. We are also grateful for having a support system that allows this en-devour to be a lot easier then if we would have to do it all alone. 

I am grateful to have the chance to learn something really interesting and new to me, which is binary option trading. Not exactly what I would have seen myself study about, if you had asked me 10 years ago, but I am exited to see where that will take me.

I am also very grateful for my online support. I am happy to be a part of a few very positive groups, that make it easy to share and care for one another, even if we live in some cases half around the country or even the globe. 

I am grateful that I live in a time where I can choose to express myself on a place like this blog, where I have had the pleasure to come accross the most interesting people from a variety of backgrounds. What a wonderful way to learn and explore! 

Now it is your turn - and do not forget to check out the other blogs who also participate in this blog roll (just check the blog roll page above for a list)

Have a wonderful weekend!

Claudia 

Silence - A Friday Flash Fiction Horror Story

Blood, all this blood! How glorious! Never before had she seen so much blood, covering the living room carpet with a completeness that was satisfying. The absolute heavenly silence brought a smile to her face. Finally no shouting, no demeaning expressions, no sarcastic laughs. Only silence.

Even the outdoors seemed to participate in the hushed observation of the death that had occurred here. Her fathers pistol rested in her hand, sun reflecting upon its black surface, glittering.
She had never seen anything so beautiful. Their bodies curved together in an harmonious way that eluded them in live, a graceful piece of art, dead flesh in its lifeless form creating beauty within the Spartan living quarters.

The time had come when it all was enough, when she could no longer ignore the incredible cruelness they had embodied. Action needed to follow the years of devilish noise that always moved through the corridors and rooms of the small dreary home. Time had come to stop hiding in her room, tuning out words of hatred directed toward anyone within shouting distance, toward her, toward neighbors, even strangers. Time had come to stop all of this. Time for silence.

Everything had been perfectly planned. The reason to spend time together in their dinning room. The special tablecloth covering the scratch marks of the old table, the better china placed upon it, waiting for her own creation. Glances toward her purse, where the Magnum waited, while one last chance was given, one last chance to experience something that she knew would never come from them. Again, no kind words. Another meal filled with hatred, while she stayed polite.

She had excused herself to the bathroom, holding the weight of the weapon in her hands, filled with anticipation, then stepped toward them, determined to create silence.

The astonished look as the Magnum raised toward his face, then hers was fascinatingly free of anger, but full of confusion. She smiled at them as she pulled the trigger - one, two, simple, quick. Then silence. Glorious blood.

Gently placing the weapon upon her father's desk her smile deepened as she stepped over his body toward the kitchen. How much better would desert taste in the midst of silence!


© Claudia Blanton 2013

A Positive Voice - Using Affirmations For Writers

writer's block dreaded

empty page in front of me

stuck in the process

© Claudia Blanton 2013 

As Writers we can be our own worst enemy. Our internal dialogue can be more defeating then those of our critiques, and also very disabling in our writing process.
I am no exception, spending days in self-doubt rather then progressing through a story, second-guessing every word until I squeeze the last bit of joy of putting words onto a page, until it feels more like bleeding then a creative form of expression.

One way I have come across to combat this down-spiral of self-condemning and destructive inner dialogue, is via Affirmation.

Affirmations, specifically for Writers are an expression of self-love, that allows us to free our internal conversations toward a more productive and positive goal.

In my search for these specific types of affirmations, I have come across a few websites whom have touched the topic as well as offered some affirmation examples.

Balboa Press (a division of Hay House Publishing) offers 5 specific affirmations to get back into the flow of the process here:
http://www.balboapress.com/WriterWisdom/ShelfImprovement/GetGoingVol2013Issue2/AffirmationsforWriting.aspx

Bryan Hutchinson from Positive Writer also adds affirmations while speaking about our inner voice:
http://positivewriter.com/how-to-overcome-your-internal-naysayer-using-affirmations/

Writer's Relief offers practical advice on how to use the affirmations most effectively
http://www.writersrelief.com/blog/2012/07/10-creative-writer-affirmations-and-tips/

while the following site allows you to write (with some help) an instant "Writer's Affirmation Poem:
http://ettcweb.lr.k12.nj.us/forms/affirmation.htm

Have a wonderful and positive day!