Way back in the early to mid 90′s, I sent in about six or so submissions to the Southwest News-Hearld‘s poetry section Thoughts In Verse.

Although the poetry here is not the best in the world and I am pretty sure the editorial standards for choosing which poetry got published was no more complicated then making sure the same poet did not run in subsequent issues, it was the first thing I ever wrote with the intention of making it public.

Luckily, although I no longer have physical copies of the newspapers I was in, I do have pictures and scans of the poems themselves, cut out from an extra copy I bought at the time and pasted in a notebook.

Recently I bought a new PC and I was going through all my files and figured it would be an easy and fun thing to put back out there.

I have no clue which order these were published in, beyond knowing that The Old Green Chair was the first. It also is the only one I can remember writing. It was based on a (wait for it) old green chair we had in the house I grew up in.

I imagined that the chair was hundreds of years old and made up fictional people that sat in it through the ages…

That poem was submitted about the same time as My Chance and Life is an Eagle. The rest are either about the same time or a couple of years later.

The paper itself still exists, and despite the quality of the poetry it is nice to know I have been part of that publications history in a small way.

• Haunting Tales: Ghost of Larrabee St. (Tallman’s Ghost)
• Hong Kong Real Estate ‘Boo Boom’
• Haunting Tales: Texas Poltergeist Ranch
• News From the Spirit World’s 2012 Stats Report

A look at one of the most infamous ghost photographs in existence, that of a man searching for his lost love in a California toy store a hundred years after his accidental death:

“For most of us, toy stores conjure up childhood images of fun, freedom and imagination.

However, a Toys R Us location in Sunnyvale California has become more well known as a place of terror then pleasure.

It is said that a ghost resides in the shop, a ghost searching for a lost love.

A ghost that during an investigation by well known psychic Sylvia Browne just happened to have his picture taken and became one of the most well known paranormal photographs in the world.”

Read the rest at News From the Spirit World.

Related articles

• Ghostly Pics: The Back Seat Ghost
• Haunting Tales: Ghost of Larrabee St. (Tallman’s Ghost)
• The Haunted Hotel (Skirvin Hilton Hotel)
• Being Human To End With Current Series

It has been one year since I started to write my Fish Out of Water column for the Dolphin Talk Paper out of Seadrift, Texas.

So for the upcoming column I wrote about how it felt to be kind of thrown into the fire of reporting right around this time last year.

Here is a little preview of the column:

“It was a cloudy day that threatened to drop rain out of the sky, and little drops could be seen on the folding chairs lined up in the middle of Main Street, which was blocked off to vehicle traffic for the dedication.

I had spent the day before at Wal-Mart of all places, trying desperately to find a shirt that looked professional. I was not out of my depth, but I was definitely about to take on another aspect of the craft of writing, head on.

As I approached the building, I saw the little white cat decoration on the front of the Johnstone Building, which I took as a good omen as for a guy I am a total cat nut(seriously, I have statues).”

“Recently I was talking to a friend I have known for years who is a visual artist. We were chatting about the kind of things people probably think artsy people talk about when eventually we touched on how some people can turn their talent into power trips. I quickly related this to how I felt about reporting for the paper. Although it was fun to be able to walk up to people and interview them and arrange and take photos to appear alongside the text, it was never a power trip to be able to do so. Rather it was one of the best feelings in the universe, to be doing what you loved and being respected for it to boot. To a man who at times in his past thought he would never be able to get anything out there due to a past of troubles, it was like a dream.

So I enjoyed every little problem, every little odd quote that you had to fit in to have a news piece but you had no idea how, every deadline looming (tomorrow) and every opportunity to make each article and column my own, to try and find a voice that would hopefully hold reader’s interest, as well as entertain and inform.”

I will try and remember to place a URL in this spot to the rest of the column once it is published.

Related articles

• The Haunted Hotel (Skirvin Hilton Hotel)
• Dark Side of Mars: Russian LOM Adaption Praised
• Bones ‘Rain’ Near Church That Inspired Dracula
• ‘Exploding UFO’ De-Bunked

I published three random poetry thingys during that time on this blog that were therapeutic at the time, but deserve to be consolidated in one post…still raw as they were when I wrote them, but I dare not delete them either.

August 14th 2012:

Torn Apart:

Rain keeps dropping and these tears keep falling, just wishing it would go away.
Found a new mission and discovered a new position, wish I could stay focused that way.

And the night comes soon, and with every moon, I get better and better but still for tonight…

I’m torn apart…a little wore out at the seams..
I’m torn apart…but this time I won’t forget my dreams.

Thoughts keep popping but I ain’t stopping, I can’t say say much now, no matter how I feel. But memories surface, my mind reverses, I can’t stay here now, this is no longer real…

Still torn apart…haunted by the past
still torn apart…but this too shall pass

I wish I could tell you how I hate you, but still probably hold you deep inside, I wish i could say how I faked you, but that would just diminish my pride.

Your not torn apart..how could this be
Your not torn apart…did you think so little of me?

But just as the rain will stop falling this pain will stop calling, but for now your still here, and I can’t help but tear because everything I thought I held dear has gone away again.

I’m torn apart..this much is true
I’m torn apart..oh is it me or you?

You make plans for years, share all your fears, dry all those tears and always stay near…
Now I’m alone, your a bitch on the phone, and the sunshine I had turns to gray tones…

Torn apart…what a living hell
torn apart..but I’m forced here for a spell.
Torn apart…well what can you do?
Torn apart..its no longer me and you
Torn apart…but one day you’ll see
Torn apart..it wasn’t all on me

Copr 8-2012 Thomas Spychalski

August 28th 2012:

Escape the Fate (Open Door)- Thomas Spychalski

Fly away, leave it all behind my friend but,
Don’t you stay, where it all will kill you and just,
walk away, try to find the meaning and just,

Last Poem Oct 4th 2012:

So the night it rises again, except now and then, I am fighting on the cheap, why does the wound cut so deep…

Related articles

• The Haunted Hotel (Skirvin Hilton Hotel)
• Being Human To End With Current Series
• Haunting Tales: Ghost of Larrabee St. (Tallman’s Ghost)
• Being Human: Sticks and Ropes Review

This was supposed to be part of Absolute Write’s July Blog Chain, which had the prompt, Independence and Slavery.

However, I messed it up, kind of forgot about it and then still wanted to at least show there was something there, even it was written in about two hours.

Following my post is links to the other entries for July…

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Stan & His Wife:

Stan could not believe it.

There they were, arguing out in public like they usually would do after a few drinks, middle of the night on another rainy Saturday, one where the streetlights made the rain puddles in the parking lot seem like small lakes made of liquid silver.

Stan stared again at the image of his wife walking away from him, slightly unsteady, moving in the direction of the cab she had called from the ladies room while Stan fumed outside. Stan let loose a large ball of spit into one of the silver pools, making ripples.

“Fuck the bitch then, I don’t need any of this horseshit!”

Stan spat again, turned, walked back into the bar with his mind on a nice strong Long Island ice tea and the blonde who had used the jukebox earlier.

Light.

Fuzzy, bright, white light.

Stan opened his eyes but quickly shut them again as the pain he felt in his head tripled the moment he did so. Stan moaned and clutched the blanket to his eyes, breathing slowly under the heat of the covers. It was then that Stan heard someone groan next to him and braving the light, he saw that he was laying next to the jukebox blonde, who did not seem too happy about the bright sunshine pouring into Stan’s bedroom either.

Stan and his wife’s bedroom.

In his house.

He leaped from the bed and started doing what could only be described as a cross between the chicken dance and the reaction of a victim attacked by red ants. He woke the jukebox blonde, told her she had to go but he would be sure to call, all of this while dressing himself and pacing in quick little circles.

He remembered his wife calling him while he was still at the bar last night, telling Stan that she had taken the cab to her mother’s house as she needed time to think. Apparently Stan, in some drunken state of being, thought this might make for a golden opportunity to cheat on his wife.

While pushing Jukebox out of the bedroom, he happened to glance outside and saw a cab parked below outside the house. His wife was now home and Stan was stuck on the second floor with a half awake bar whore, in the bedroom he and his wide shared.

Lovely.

Stan grabbed Jukebox by the shoulders and gave her a shove into the bathroom and slamming the door, which made something fall in the bathroom as there was a large bang. Telling the bathroom to ‘shhh’ as he went by, Stan ran downstairs to greet his wife.

As she entered, Stan tried his best to look unhappy and pitiful, which was not really all that hard for Stan at all.

“How are you hon? I am so sorry about last night, I was fucked up and you know how I get when we drink now don’t you?”

Stan’s wife just stood there staring at Stan.

“Come on baby, it’s not like we ain’t never fought before…can’t change the past, we can only change the future so let’s let it go.”

“You don’t…” Said Stan’s wife, in a voice that sounded like she had to force it from her body.

“You don’t what honey?” Stan said, looking a bit worried and more then a little confused.

“You don’t recall me coming here last night at three AM from my mom’s when I found you in our bedroom with some slutty little bitch?”

Stan stood there, transfixed and stuck in place, his mouth hanging open, while his wife went back out to the garage and the car, most likely to call her mother, cry and regroup. Stan took this opportunity to run like a bullet back to the upstairs bathroom where Jukebox was hopefully still inside.

When he went to open the door to the bathroom he found that it would only open about three or four inches and the reason that it only opened three or four inches was the fresh corpse of Jukebox laying on the other side. Stan stifled a scream and started to bite at his fist. What was he going to do? He had a dead blonde in the upstairs bathroom and an angry wife who knew he had an affair with the now deceased Jukebox, who seemed to have very little to say on these matters.

It was then that Stan’s wife came in, poking Stan in the back with her long nails and making him jump ten feet in the air.

“Whats wrong with the bathroom door Stanley?” She said as she pushed past Stan, only to get a good look at a blonde who had seen better days. That’s when the screaming started and didn’t stop, when Stan got madder then he had ever been in his life and promptly hit his wife six times in the head with a heavy brass lamp, killing her and placing her not ten feet from where another corpse lay on the tile of the bathroom floor.

Stanley cried.

The road was bumpy and in bad need of repair, but that probably was helped along by the fact that Stan was riding on four rims and a tire so far gone it was a testament to it’s maker how well it held on.

Stan had disposed of the bodies after a quick search online about how to do it right and then threw the two women into the trunk of the old family car, the one Stan’s wife had hoped they could replace this year.

The trail of police cars that followed him were plentiful and Stan knew that something had tripped him up, someone heard his former wife screaming, someone smelled the stench from his trunk at the last rest stop…something. Stan kept thinking back to that perfect moment of freedom when he wife walked away from him the other night at the bar, how carefree and awakened he felt, just like now in a scarier way racing down the freeway, making sparks in the night.

Stan pushed harder on the gas peddle, listening as the sound of the rims got worse. Up ahead, trees lined a curve in the road with no guardrail, a target Stan made full use of, spinning the car away from jail and police and into something that was unknown…for now.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Participants and posts:
orion_mk3 – http://nonexistentbooks.wordpress.com (link to this month’s post)
knotanes – http://knotane.wordpress.com/ (link to this month’s post)
meowzbark – http://erlessard.wordpress.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Ralph Pines – http://ralfast.wordpress.com/ (link to this month’s post)
randi.lee – http://emotionalnovel.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
writingismypassion – http://charityfaye.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
pyrosama – http://matrix-hole.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
bmadsen – http://hospitaloflife.wordpress.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Poppy – http://poet-slash-writer.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
areteus – http://lurkingmusings.wordpress.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Sweetwheat – http://gomezkarla.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Tex_Maam – http://tex-maam.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
MelodySRV – http://createamelody.com/ (link to this month’s post)
CatherineHall – http://theelephantinthetemple.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
dclary – http://davidwclary.com (link to this month’s post)
ThorHuman – http://knikriverstatic.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Tomspy77 – http://thomaswillamspychalski.wordpress.com/ (link to this month’s post)

I am making this blog page the one stop shop for all of my writing related posts and information as well as a kind of online resume as I try to pick up some more writing jobs.

The old website still exists, and I have the feeling I will be doing something with it in time…

This post is part of the Absolute Write’s March Blog Chain, which was given the prompt: Rainy Days. Please see the links below the body of this post for the other blogs that contributed to this month’s chain.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The dog refused to go potty.

This was a problem as it was pouring rain, windy and cold.

Alex pulled up the collar of his jacket against the wind and gave a little tug on the dog’s leash.

“Come on you dizzy dog, we have to go in, I’m freezing.”

But the Yellow lab sat down in the damp grass, staring up at his master with her ‘puppy dog’ eyes, then resumed  staring across the field towards the abandoned farmhouse and the highway beyond. Somewhere high above and off to the West, a low and ominous rumble of thunder rolled across the fields next to Alex’s house, pressing the matter.

Alex started to tug at the leash a little harder. “Come on Gracie, we gotta go in. If it starts to thunder and lightning…”

But Gracie would have none of it.She strained her neck against the collar, raising her head to give her more space. Alex started to feel his hands going numb as he strained against the dog’s weight and strength.

Just then ,the rumble of thunder became almost a constant roar, making the dog start to panic and squirm as it struggled against the leash, throwing herself to the ground and rolling onto her back. Alex tried to pull her up to a standing position but it was no use. Gracie half rolled, half walked to the small tree that was about four feet away, circling the tree in a counterclockwise motion and getting the leash wrapped up in the low branches.

“Gracie, no!” Alex roared, trying to run around in the same pattern as the panicking dog. As he did so, he slipped on his right foot and Alex could feel gravity pulling him down on his backside as he struggled to hold on to the leash. As he was getting up he saw Gracie making wild leaps into the air as she had now entangled herself so badly that it was starting to choke her.

Another loud clap of thunder exploded from across the field like a bomb and the dog made one final jump in the air, freed herself from her collar and bolted away from Alex.

“Gracie!” Alex called, watching the dog sprint straight towards the old barn at the edge of the open field.

Alex ran in pursuit, dragging the leash and collar behind him while calling the dogs name. When Gracie reached the barn, she turned back towards her owner, panting and staring at the sky.

“Come on Gracie, we gotta go back pup, we don’t have time to play games.”

But the dog only looked behind Alex and then started to bark. As Alex turned his head he saw that the sky had turned an odd shade of green and the clouds were low and black. Portions of the clouds seemed to be slowly rotating, while the bottom half started to slowly reach dark, ominous tendrils towards the Earth, searching for the right place to make contact with the ground. Hail began the fall from the sky, small at first but then becoming the size of golf balls.

“Jesus” Alex croaked from his suddenly dry mouth.

Behind him, Gracie gave another couple of loud barks and then pushed her way inside the abandoned barn’s opened doorway. Without taking his eyes off the approaching twister, Alex followed.

The inside of the barn was almost completely dark and Alex could not see Gracie anywhere inside. But he could hear her cries from a direction that sounded like it was directly in front of him. Alex slowly walked closer to the sounds and found the dog huddled over a back corner of the barn’s floor. Feeling along the dogs back in the dark it seemed her head was bent over, as if she was sniffing something on the ground.

Moving the dog out of the way, Alex saw a small orange and white kitten sitting in the exact corner of the barn. The kitten purred as Alex gently picked it up, but another, louder sound seemed to be growing behind him, like a fright train was going to pass right through the old barn or a commercial airliner flying low to the ground.

Alex ran back to the door, Gracie barking behind him and the kitten now under the top of his coat. Opening the barn door was near impossible due to the amount of wind pressing on it so Alex looked through a hole in one of the wooden boards of the wall and nearly cried in terror at what he saw. A huge wedge shaped twister was tearing across the field.

Running back into the barn he tripped over Gracie, making the dog yelp and the man slide across the barn’s floor, while he attempted to protect the kitten with his palm as they slid. In a panic, he pulled himself up on some old wooden crates and almost fell down again as the rotted wood buckled under his weight. As Alex picked himself up again he could see a line in the wood, in the opposite direction of all the lines in the floorboards.

Praying that it was what Alex thought it might be, he moved the rest of the crate out of the way and to his delight saw a rusted ring in the floor. He dived for it while frantically calling for Gracie. The ring was rusted and probably had not been touched in at least fifty years but with effort the trap door started to rise, revealing an old set of wooden stairs. Stepping on the step closest to ground level, Alex called for the dog and she came bounding out of the darkness. Alex grabbed the big dog by the neck and tried to coax her into the cellar but surprisingly the dog allowed itself to be pulled into the hole, as if it knew a dark smelly hole in an old barn was a better option then being anywhere near that awful sound outside the barn.

As Alex pulled the animal tight to his body, it seemed two things happened at once.

First, the entire side of the barn was ripped away. Instantly, the dark interior of the barn was filled with debris and around him Alex could feel the barn’s pieces hitting him in the back. The second thing that happened is that the wooden stairs leading into the cellar shifted and swayed under the trios weight, and all three: man, dog and cat, were puled into the darkness of the barn’s cellar. The trap door dropped shut above them, not quite muffling the sound of the roaring overhead.

—————————————————————————————————————

The sun shone brightly across the field and the sounds of happy birds mixed with the sounds of the chainsaws cutting down fallen trees. Alex lay on the stretcher, looking at the remains of his house, which had been almost completely destroyed.

In his hands was the little orange and white kitten. The EMS people had tried to take the cat away but Alex would not allow it.

Besides him, being dried off by a rescue worker in a blanket was Gracie, her tongue hanging from her mouth and looking from the destroyed house to Alex, occasionally sniffing at the floorboards that were all that was left of the barn the dog had led him to, only to find the kitten and shelter from the storm. Soon Gracie was sleeping, exhausted at having saved three lives in one afternoon.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Participants and posts:
orion_mk3 – http://nonexistentbooks.wordpress.com (link to this month’s post)
Bogna – http://bemaslanka.wordpress.com (link to this month’s post)
Ralph Pines – http://ralfast.wordpress.com (link to this month’s post)
pyrosama – http://matrix-hole.blogspot.com (link to this month’s post)
Nissie – http://www.paperheroes.net (link to this month’s post)
Lyra Jean – http://beyondtourism.wordpress.com (link to this month’s post)
Domoviye – http://working-in-china.com (link to this month’s post)
magicmint – http://www.loneswing.com (link to this month’s post)
areteus – http://lurkingmusings.wordpress.com (link to this month’s post)
julzperri – http://www.fishandfrivolity.blogspot.com (link to this month’s post)
hillaryjacques – http://hillaryjacques.blogspot.com (link to this month’s post)
AFord – http://af12.webs.com (link to this month’s post)
randi.lee – http://emotionalnovel.blogspot.com (link to this month’s post)
J. W. Alden – http://www.authoralden.com (link to this month’s post)
SuzanneSeese – http://www.viewofsue.blogspot.com (link to this month’s post)
Tomspy77 – http://thomas-willam-spychalski.webs.com (link to this month’s post)
ronbwriting – http://ronbwriting.blogspot.com (link to this month’s post)

Enjoy, and let me know what you think in the comments and by sharing the posts around your favorite social networks if you like it!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Second Chances:

The bus shook slightly as it took the turn and Robert’s stomach did a turn with it, rolling and gurgling at the motion. Some days were still like this, an endless struggle between himself and his body. He clinched even tighter to the manilla envelope between his fingers, wishing he had not taken a seat by the back of the bus near the wheel wells.

Robert looked around the bus, looking for watchful eyes that might have seen his reaction to the turn, but none of the other passengers seemed to have noticed. Robert had no idea why he felt that people were watching him all the time, it seemed to be an extension of the shame he felt being a recently clean cocaine addict, as if the mark he placed on his body and soul was visible. It had been a month since he had stopped using, but it had only been a little less then a week since Robert had stopped using Amantadine, a drug that was supposed to help with the cravings, and did to an extent, but he had felt that at some point he had to fly solo. The bus jumped again and while doing the now routine glance around his surroundings, Robert noticed her. She had red hair and had her nose planted deep in a book, reading intently. She was amazingly beautiful and Robert had to almost pull his eyes off her, although even after his eyes had moved he still felt her presence on the bus, buzzing like a broken light.

When the next bump came, Robert had enough of being directly under the bus’s back wheels and started to move towards the front of the bus, holding himself up by the metal poles with one hand while the other clutched at the manilla envelope. As he was trying to reach for the next handhold the bus hit a pot hole and Robert lost his grip on the envelope. He stifled a cry as he watched it slide down the middle of the bus interior. He was imagining what he would do if the envelope got damaged or even worse, slipped out the gap between the buses doors and the floor and out into the streets when a black high heeled shoe stopped it from going any further.

It was the red haired beauty, her book laying open in front of her on her knee while she kept her foot on the envelope. Whether it was concern over the envelope’s safety or the fact that fate had just happened to have the most attractive woman Robert had ever seen in his life save the envelope from certain doom, Robert could only mumble a barely audible “Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome, but if I were you I’d try not to get up and move around on the bus after it hits 78^th Place, all the recent construction around here has made the road like something out a post apocalyptic movie.”

Robert retrieved the envelope and steadied himself where he stood holding the closest support hole, lest another bump sent him flying down the aisle.

“Thanks for the tip” Robert said. “Can I sit down?”

Red hair smiled. “You’d better, before they drop the next nuke.”

Robert smiled back and sat down, the closeness to the woman was both nerve wracking and tempting. “My names Robert.”

“Mines Barbara. May I ask what you do Robert when your not playing Frisbee with envelopes?”

Robert Took a glance around him, thinking of a plausible answer. What he did hope to be doing was in the manilla envelope, but it was not something he felt entirely comfortable talking about yet, not till he was sure. What he had did before, scrounging for money and stealing to sustain his drug habit, he could not say.

“Well, I write.” Robert took a glance out the window. “I mean, I will be writing, hopefully I’ll be writing if all goes well today. In a way you just saved my life, my whole immediate future is in the envelope you saved.”

Barbara smiled as she looked down at the watch on her wrist. “Well, that beats a record,” She said, raising her eyebrows. “I’ve never saved a life this early before, usually I wait till after lunch.”

A hearty laughter came from somewhere near Robert’s stomach which was so busy laughing it forgot to go into it’s lurching routine as the bus hit another bump in the road.

“Well I’m glad your pleased Robert the Writer, it’s not often I get to see a writer laugh, usually it’s the dagger eyes that I get.”

“Oh, and why is that?”

“I’m the submissions editor for Powerhouse Publishing, well one of them anyway, the junior one.”

Robert’s face must have looked like he felt as Barbara quickly looked a bit concerned and flustered. “I’m sorry Robert, is that where you are headed this morning?”

“Yeah, although now I feel like I should not have mentioned it.”

“Not at all Robert the Writer, must be pretty important for you to brave the usual intriguing stenches of the Buses on route seven.” Barbara said as Robert’s composure returned.

“However, this also means we have to get off at the next stop, so hold on tight, most of these guys can drive, but stopping is another matter.”

The rows of skyscrapers spiraled into the sky above their heads as they watched the bus roll off into the distance. Barbara turned to Robert and pointed at the double revolving doors that lead into the building.

“You go up five floors, and turn left.”

“Thanks,” Robert said, glancing up at the fifth floor with new apprehension.

“I’d follow you in, but I have to go around the corner to the coffee place or I’m the one that will need saving before noon.”

“All right, thanks again, it was nice to meet you Barbara.”

Barbara smiled again and pointed up the street.

“The museum is about four blocks that way. Today they close early but they should be open beyond noon at least. I go there when the buses are behind, that way I don’t have to sit in back, the back of the bus can be bumpy at times.”

“So I’ve noticed, but why would I go to the museum at all?”

Nodding her head a couple times, Barbara pointed at the envelope in Robert’s hands. “ Now I know why your submitting here, we only do no non-fiction, you don’t seem to have much imagination”

“Sorry?”

“I am telling you about the museum’s hours so you can meet me back here at these doors at noon to take me to lunch Robert the Writer.”

With another smile and a flourish Barbara disappeared around the corner to get her coffee. Robert stood for a few moments in the sun, feeling that the day had all of a sudden got a little brighter and that the future had just grown a bit more promising.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Here are the rest of the folks that are participating in this months blog chain. Be sure to see what their ‘Second Chances’ were:

Participants and posts:
Turndog-Millionaire – http://turndog-millionaire.com/ (link to this month’s post)
orion_mk3 – http://nonexistentbooks.wordpress.com (link to this month’s post)
Ralph Pines – http://ralfast.wordpress.com/ (link to this month’s post)
magicmint – http://www.loneswing.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Tomspy77 – http://thomaswillamspychalski.wordpress.com/ (link to this month’s post)
MamaStrong – http://writingofme.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
in_one – http://quirkythomas.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
LilGreenBookworm – http://themayhemofwritingsahm-style.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
LiterateParakeet – http://lesliesillusions.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Diana_Rajchel – http://blog.dianarajchel.com/ (link to this month’s post)
sambgood – http://www.samanthabagood.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Bogna – http://bemaslanka.wordpress.com/ (link to this month’s post)
writingismypassion – http://charityfaye.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
kiwiviktor81 – http://storygenerator.net/ (link to this month’s post)
AFord – http://af12.webs.com/ (link to this month’s post)
randi.lee – http://emotionalnovel.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
These Mean Streets – http://ohno-anotherwritingblog.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
areteus – http://lurkingmusings.wordpress.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Domoviye – http://living-working-in-china.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
pyrosama – http://matrix-hole.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
SuzanneSeese – http://www.viewofsue.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
julzperri – http://www.fishandfrivolity.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Nissie – http://www.paperheroes.net/ (link to this month’s post)

You always hear those stories from the old timers sitting in their little groups in coffee shops and restaurants all across the country: “I remember the blizzard of 1930, you could barely see outside the windows and we were snowed in for days.”

But nothing could have prepared me for the blizzard that descended on the Chicago area on February 1st 2011.

Like most amazing events, it started off with normal day and a normal Winter snowfall, something you become used to living in the Midwest. For days the National Weather Service had called for a major blizzard in the forecasts by early that evening with predicted totals being close to 24 inches of snow by the time it all ended sometime early the next morning.

My boss had refused to close the small shop I worked in due to the weather as he felt it would be ‘nothing’ and as I worked alone and had no car at that time, I was actually fearful that I might have to spend a night in the back of the store, trying to catch some sleep on a rickety office chair.

However the need to have steady income and my bills paid overcame sensibility and instinct and off I went, not knowing that less than eight hours later I would be fearing for my life.

As the storm progressed the streets got worse no matter how many times the snow plows plowed the main street my store was located along, and eventually cars disappeared from the scene all together with the few brave (Or foolish) souls who had to venture out getting stuck out on the roads.

At the height of the storm I was sitting on two milk crates watching the sky glow purple with the rare phenomenon of thunder snow while observing anyone foolish enough to try to enter the shop’s lot, which had yet to be plowed even once(Probably due to them being stuck themselves elsewhere), getting stuck in the drifts that had accumulated on our entrance way.

By the time nine-o-clock had arrived I had enough. I called my boss telling him that if I was going to leave it had to be now as it was a now or never situation, as the NWS was still predicting even more snow into the overnight hours. He reluctantly agreed and I called my relief (Who was not even up yet and never would have made it on time even if he tried unless he had a team of sled dogs handy) and told him that I was closing the shop and that he should stay indoors.

I called a cab and made my plan of escape.

The front doors were pretty much snowed in by this point as I had given up on trying to shovel the path outside hours ago, as every time I did it returned with majorreinforcements less than half an hour later. However I had been keeping the back door clean as I knew I might need to get out of the store and there was no direct wind causing any snow to drift onto the doorway.

When the cab arrived I opened the door, shutting it behind me and literally leapt into what was at least a three-foot drift just beyond the doorway, fighting the bitter wind that was whistling around my head as I made my way to the cab which was idling on the main street as it could not enter the lot nor come down the side street next to the store, which was also impassable.

I felt like I was one of those old Apollo astronauts you would see on the videos of the moon landings as every step seemed to be awkward, with the difference that instead of being weightless, I had to struggle against the weight of the accumulated powder that was now almost to my knees as I approached the street.

With a final leap from the untouched snow to the cab, I swung open the door and told the cab driver where to go, thanking him for being so prompt and also for working on a night like this. Beyond that, neither of us made any of the usual idle conversation as the driver had his full concentration on the road ahead, as did I.

Everywhere around us cars were either stuck or stalled out, and the cab driver would swing the cab cautiously to the farthest lane when we were passing a stuck motorist who was spinning his wheels in the snow to try to escape, lest he free himself and ram the cab. This seemed to be something that had already happened to others as in the three-mile journey, which took us about thirty minutes, we saw lots of cars that were entangled with other vehicles.

When we finally got to the closest major roadway, about one street from my destination I instructed the cabbie to turn onto the main road as I did not want him to try to brave the side street my apartment was on and get himself stuck.

After assurances from me that this was fine, I paid the man fifty dollars for what usually was a twenty-dollar fare, the only time on my limited budget that I ever gave such a large tip, but the driver’s good driving skills and willingness to work in the middle of the blizzard made me very generous.

Exiting the cab I was once again faced with a terrible wind that seemed like something out a movie about the Alaskan tundra, the wind being augmented by the fact that I lived near an agricultural high school which had some open land which the winds and snow just blew across unimpeded.

Walking from this main street to my apartment took five minutes, which is amazing as it is only a street down. I know the exact time it took as I recorded the event:

(The lack of accumulated snow in the video is due to the snow being blown out of that area by the wind, with it mostly falling into the streets around the back lot I was walking through)

By the time I reached the inside of my apartment it almost seemed unreal, as if the last eight and a half hours had never happened at all.

The Chicago Blizzard of 2011 was the third worst blizzard in Chicago history, with a total snowfall of 21.2 inches. Not as bad as they said, but pretty close.

But at least now I know that when I am old and grey and grumpy I can aggravate all the young whipper snappers with memories of how I survived the great Chicago Blizzard of ’11, even if I add an inch or two of snow each time I tell it.

Other people participated in the Absolute Write January Blog Chain and they are listed below, please visit them and check out what Winter Nightmare they created:

Participants and posts:
orion_mk3 – http://nonexistentbooks.wordpress.com (link to this month’s post)
MamaStrong – http://writingofme.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
pyrosama – http://matrix-hole.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Turndog-Millionaire – http://turndog-millionaire.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Alpha Echo – http://aprilplummer81.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
LilGreenBookworm – http://themayhemofwritingsahm-style.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Domoviye – http://lets-get-happy.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
writingismypassion – http://charityfaye.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
kimberlycreates – http://www.kimberlycreates.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Suzanne Seese – http://viewofsue.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Diana Rajchel – http://blog.dianarajchel.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Ralph Pines – http://ralfast.wordpress.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Alynza – http://www.alynzasmith.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Literateparakeet – http://lesliesillusions.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
in_one – http://quirkythomas.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Tomspy77 – http://thomaswillamspychalski.wordpress.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Inkstrokes – http://drlong67.wordpress.com/ (link to this month’s post)
kiwiviktor81 – http://storygenerator.net/ (link to this month’s post)
These Mean Streets – http://ohno-anotherwritingblog.blogspot.com/ (link to this month’s post)
areteus – http://lurkingmusings.wordpress.com/ (link to this month’s post)
Abielle Rose – http://stainedglassinthenight.wordpress.com/ (link to this month’s post)

Today I was on Facebook and I was reminded of one the great truths of the modern miracle we call the internet. But it wasn’t about how much valuable information could be shared across the world or how many new avenues for business could be opened up via the web, but rather an ongoing observation that at times has me shaking my head in disbelief.

If you are a woman and put a picture or video of yourself in public, eventually some guy will come along and hit on you.

If you post it they will come.

It hit me as I was reading a thread created by a writer I subscribed to who also just happens to be female. The writer had posted some new pictures of herself and along with the usual kind remarks and friendly banter were the male sharks, smelling blood and posting comments that are thinly veiled attempts to make a love connection via social media.

Being inquisitive I went through the profile pics of other female public figures I subscribe too and found more of the same, including some that would have been out of place in the comments section of a pornographic video.

"No, I do not want to see pics of your appendex scar!"

Now, it’s not that I am blind and do not find any of these girls attractive, of course I do, but even if I was single I’d think better of trying to flirt with a person in a public forum when they just happen to post up some new personal photos.

A commenter on one profile pic even mentioned that someone had shared the pic and posted it on his Facebook wall, something that unless you personally know the individual and are sharing the picture with mutual friends is creepy in itself.

A long time ago I was bored (Don’t be afraid, it’s not what you think) and joined a Yahoo! chat room, not a sex orientated one either but just a general forum for people to chat in. Besides being amazed by the ratio of ‘bots’ to Humans, I was also surprised at how many males were in the room waiting for a real honest to goodness female to type something.

When some poor unsuspecting woman did finally post something it was like watching a group of tigers fighting over a fresh zebra as they all appeared out of no where, with comments and suggestions running the gauntlet from repeated calls of ‘hello’ to some that were just downright sick.

Now I know that the web is just an extension of our own habits in everyday life, but with the major difference of anonymity. People who would never dare to say “you’re hot” to a girl at the local watering hole or at work will gladly post it over and over on the net, usually with results that make you seem silly and at times more then a bit desperate.

I do believe that it is possible to fall in love or find someone you really relate to over the internet, but I think that steady conversation and getting to know that person and just being their friend is a more effective method then posting “Nice legs” on a profile pic on Facebook or Google +, as old fashioned as that may sound.