Made By Pain Part 1

You said you loved me

That’s why I said I do

Then you vanished from me

The charming, funny guy I knew

Your hands are on me

I’m thinking how dare you

I dare not say it

Still gotta get the kids from you

Mom said she didn’t like the look in your eyes 

I should’ve listened 

Now I sacrifice 

 

A moment of safety found in his daily routine

He sits in the tub to sleep

I have a chance to think, to breathe

My mind wanders, plotting for weeks things I could never say aloud 

I’ve found a way out 

The time is now

But his death? Can I live with it?

It’s him or me,

But, the kids?

Before I talk myself out of it again

I slap my face, I need to be urgent

 

“Juju, grab your brother and  run

Here’s my cell phone go outside dial 9-11”

 

She looks at me with her big brown eyes

Does she know my plan

Tears down her face,

I wipe them

 

“Be strong for mommy

Just say there’s been an accident”

 

She’s terrified,

I reinforce,

 

“Baby, it’s okay, Daddy’s just having a long dream

It’s important to do what I say”

 

Kissing her forehead I whisper,

 

“Go Juju, go! It’ll be ok baby”

 

She goes, but I don’t think she believes me,

Cadence in my voice must’ve given me away.

 

They’re out of the house

I climb the stairs his drink in my hand

Today I take the power from the man

My freedom already in his bottle

All he has to do is sip, he’ll see

Today is the day he’ll hit me

 

“Carol! I’ve been waiting for almost an hour for my drink”

Such an eerie tone for a complete creep

 

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t cold, something happened with the fridge and…”

 

“Shut up woman, 

Bring my drink, then in the corner on your knees

While I think 

Hmm, what should your punishment be?”

 

“Master, can it wait until the children are asleep?”

 

“You beg for mercy, I’ll consider your request,

On your knees, you know what’s coming next.”

 

He downed his drink as he stood,

How is this cowardly rat my husband too

All desires for him to touch me are long dead, buried, and passed into another’s worlds eternity

I have to fake it or be killed.

Forcing myself for my children

I do it for them.

 

He wobbles towards me,

It has to be the drugs?

In case it doesn’t work, I stand 

 

“Babe, what’s happening to you?”

 

He slips and falls, hitting his head on the tub,

 

Thinking to myself,

“This is working as it should.”

 

Running to my kids 

Fear kicks in

What if they check for drugs, for poison?

 

God forgive me

What I have done?

How do I tell my kids their dad is gone

Oblivious to my pain as Cam plays

Wonder stretched across Juju’s face

Her eyes are talking to me

I open my arms

She runs and gives me a hug

She’s 13, I’ve taken innocence from her

A siren sounds

I look up,

“Hello Mr. Officer”

 

“Ma’am we got a call,” the officer said

“He’s in the bathroom, he hit his head, I think he’s dead”

 

The officer runs inside

I feel like he was staring at my black eye

The bruises all over that I can no longer hide

The severity of agony he can readily see

If I tell him what happened, maybe he’ll help me

 

Everything is bubbling all over inside

The officer yells to his partner

“Call for help, he’s still alive!”

 

I rose to my feet in haste

“Juju, stay here, watch Cam, wait for mommy!”

 

Running up the stairs watching them resuscitate

The paramedics got here so fast

Is everyone against me?

This can’t be happening,

No! He can’t be allowed to live,

Not with everything he’s done to me

The rape, abuse, torture, and lies

Continual mind games

He’s ruined my life

No friends, family

He’s preys constantly on my mind

Praying to God, 

I need him to die

 

He gasps for breath

I can’t stand it I cringe

Hand on a knife I have in my pocket, 

Juju burst through the door

Letting go of the knife, I grab on to her

 

“Baby, where’s Cam?”

“He’s in his room coloring, Mom, is daddy gonna be ok?”

 

I just hug her, afraid of what I might say.

 

They put him on a stretcher

And run him out of the door

Unsure of the residue

I rinse the bottle and put it on the floor

Opening the door, “Can I help you, Officer?”

 

“Can you tell me what happened?”

This is a different cop, he doesn’t care about me

I’m not ready to answer

I don’t know what to say

“Can we do this at the hospital, I wanna make sure my husband is ok.”

 

“I’m sorry ma’am, I just wanted to know if I could help in any way”

 

“I just need to gather my kids and we’ll be on our way.”

 

Mentally I’m scrambling 

 

“If there’s anything you want to tell me, now would be the time?”

 

“Mr. Officer, is there something on your mind?”

 

He just looks at me as if it’s so obvious,

I’m shaking and furious

And wondering if they’ll take my kids.

I haven’t seen my mother since I married Robert

But she is the guardian for them both

I don’t even know if she knows

Either way, she’ll be great

I won’t cry for them

If they take me away

 

Moments pass, “I’m sorry, officer, I’m in shock I can’t think. I’m too nervous can you drive me?”

He takes the bait

He’ll wait

I did not think this through 

Before I could blink we were

Arriving at the hospital

 

All I wanted to hear was

“Sorry, we did all we could do”

Internally wishing him dead

They call me in

I get other news instead

 

“He’s alive, we’re just waiting for him to wake up

He’ll be in a lot of pain

We had to pump his stomach.”

 

I gasp in shock, “I don’t understand

What does this mean for my husband?”

 

The doctor replies, “It means he will live and not die.”

 

He sees the pain and fear in my eyes

I smile, “Thank you doctor!”

He turns away

I sigh

This news is somewhat of a surprise

He was evil before

How do I survive?

 

I go towards his room and open the door 

The walls fade away

He’s taken my soul

I have no will to live

Save my kids

If there was a way to take him out

I’d die with him

Lost/Always

I sought hope

She escaped

I fell to my knees

Lost breaks me

All I wanted was the need to believe

Faith is ever fading

Wasting hastily

Hunger deteriorated 

Deserted in silence

Nothing’s fulfilling

Aches almost violent

Longing is haunting

Still

Always

Wanting

 

Craving a presence

Break me out of my cell

This prison inside I made for myself

 

I buried the keys in the sand

Mind, body, and soul

Staggering

In search always

Always wanting to be found

Seeking for a love

Though I’m turned off

I’m so lost

 

Alone, depression seizes me

Ever ready to jump off a cliff

Voices whispers 

“There’s nothing holding you back. Go ahead, do it!”

Your love, it arrests me

Your heartbeat beckons my name

Your want summons me

Its strength gravitates me to your plane

 

There’s a channel to my spirit

The frequency always hidden

Noises, muzzled sounds

Echoes of silence

Something, someone

Always trying to get through

Finally a voice

A word,

You

Lost in the pitch of your voice

Such peace in your laughter

The lust in your tone

What else in life matters

 

Man was not made to be alone

You pulled me out

Safety being raptured feels like home

Thoughts At Midnight

Open your heart to me

Let me see

You

Like no other has

My keys fit your locks so

Let me pass

Have I not proven my love

Look into my eyes

See past my facade

You know this love feels right,

Like life, how it’s supposed to be

Take me as I am 

You’re already a part of me

My lungs 

My heart

So intertwined in how I breathe

And move

And go about my life

An extension of myself

A limb 

A sense

Hairs on my arm raise in your presence

You present a challenge

For me to be more

To deserve a chance to earn your love

I extend my time, my emotions, myself

You wear your heart on your sleeve

Let me guard it 

Speak

Your words are hidden in the crevices of your heart

Where love doth spark

I seek not to entertain

I hope to remain

By your side

In your mind

A lifetime’s full

You are mine

Eternity

I am yours

All of me

Eternally

Royalties???

 

Hello Peeps, I got my first “royalties” check in the mail and it made me question my sanity. It couldn’t buy a jar of peanut butter. Then my mind trailed off for a while on a tangent trying to discover if I’m writing for a check or writing to fulfill some space, some emptiness within me. So, I asked myself if no one ever bought any of my books would I still write. Without a second to pause, the answer was, Yes! I don’t know how to not write. Everything within me turns into a song or story or something written with heart and wonder.

I talked to a lot of writers and found out that they also go through the struggle. Whether they self-published or had a publisher, advertising always popped it ugly head asking for more of the pie. Don’t fret, everyone is going through something, just stay the course, keep asking questions and above all…don’t give up!

I know a lot of us write our stories wanting to change lives, but if no one reads are just killing ourselves. Writing is work, very hard work; the time you spend writing, the pressure for it to be good, the research to make sure it’s real. And then the payoff is so small, is it worth the effort?  If it’s what fulfills you then climb aboard and don’t give up until you reach your destination. Sometimes we need to put more coal in the fire, just don’t let the light go out. 

There’s no easy way to say it, the money will come or it won’t but your talent can’t be taken it can only grow if you train it and guard and don’t downplay it. It’s easily hurt. When people ask, “What do you do?” stick your chest out like a peacock, “I’m a writer! What do you do?”

 

To all my writer friends don’t give up, don’t beat yourself up, we’re in a competitive, alluring, and addictive business. Keep falling in love with your words, we will feel what you feel.

 

 

 

Published Author!

Hey Hey Peeps! So, I’m a published author now. HOORAY! It’s still so surreal you know. I’ll be at the doctor’s office and they’ll ask, “Occupation?” this devious smile comes over my face as I say, “Published Author.” I know I know, I’m not Stephen King and you don’t see me on TV, yet, but, I am a published author. I, me, between raising 3 children 6, 3 and 1 and husband which includes: Homeschooling, cleaning, laundry, rearing, baby shark and endless listening to random tales that never end. Don’t get me started with also having to keep up with my 6 siblings and their SO’s and offsprings, mother, father, grandmother,  aunties, last living uncle and my babies I tended to in Ghana who still reach out to me all the time. All of that going on daily and I still managed to complete a book and get it published. Now that I’m published there’s a whole new set of rules. Can’s and cannot’s. Run by’s and check-in’s. It’s kinda cool though. The fact that a group of people looked over my writing and decided I was worthy is a great feeling. They put in the work right beside to get something great.

Kyanite Publishing LLC is a author based, author founded, author run family that are full of support and positive reinforcement. Everyone I worked with, personally has been super helpful B.K., Sophia, Sam! To name a few, they’re all so super helpful and talented and they care. Writing that book robbed me of so much sleep, but it was so worth it to hold her in my hands and she’s beautiful.

My pain and my joy, She Cried Wolf, was released in September of 2019. My life has never been the same. That feeling of accomplishment still rushes me when I wake some days. Random people tweet, “Oh, I ordered your book, can’t wait!” I’m stunned, “Thank you!” I mean I say thank you, but, is that enough? Can they feel my tears? The steady streams, flowing down my cheeks. One person choosing me is no small feat, there are so many millions of books being released yearly, over 5,000 a day and you picked mine. Awesomest feeling ever! No, Auto correct, I meant awesomest and I’m not changing it! Because it sums up exactly how I feel. And now you’re here, reading these, my words, and I get that feeling all over again.

Well, thank you for visiting and if you have anything to say, leave a comment. I love the interaction, keep in mind I am pretty silly.

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Weekend Reads Reviews

Hello Peeps, I recently a started hashtag on Twitter #weekendreads. I started #weekendreads for a specific purpose. Get people reading! We’re all so busy writing, some of us, including me don’t take the time to refine our craft and read. If it doesn’t apply to you, kudos, if it does, don’t feel ashamed. I used to think that if I read other people’s work that it would bleed into mine and I would incoherently write in their style, like I would borrow their words. Well, I’ve been reading tons of books and my writing has only gotten better and it dawned on me, all the words are borrowed but each author has their own release, their own representation of how the words should display themselves. So I started a hashtag in the hopes that others would see a book they may want to read even if it’s not mine and be inspired to read.

I also realized, duh, you have left no reviews for people to follow. I mean, I leave reviews for each book on every site I can think of: Amazon, Kobo, Barnes and Noble, Goodreads, everywhere. On my blog however, nada. I’m thinking that needs to change. I thought I’d leave reviews of how the books make me feel. What I go through, or what I think the characters or going through with poetic expression. I didn’t plan it but it hit me and I went with it and now I can’t stop.

Here’s a list of the books I’ve read recently. My TBR (TO be Read) List is long but I don’t mind, it’s my midnight joy. I either read or write and they both are satisfying.

River by Ryen Lesli
FairyTale Lies by D.K. Marie
The Darkness Returns by Michael Nadeau
Bits and Pieces by Dawn Hosmer
The End of Echoes by Dawn Hosmer
Night Shift by B.K. Bass
Silver Glass by Anna Read

Guest Blog Tears in the Rain: The Emotional Impact of Storytelling

By B.K. Bass

 

One of the primary objectives of any kind of storytelling is to invoke an emotional reaction from the audience. The methods and results of this might be painfully clear in some situations, such as a love story or a tragedy. In other situations, such as an action-adventure story, this might not be as clear. Think back though to the last flashy action movie you watched. Consider that big, climactic battle or chase scene. Were you excited? Were you anticipating the outcome of the situation and what those results might mean for the characters? That, too, is an emotional reaction. Even the goofiest comedy invokes an emotion: joy. You don’t have to end the journey crying or longing for love to have your emotions prodded by a story, and as a writer you don’t have to focus on these two things to get an emotional reaction from your audience.

 

A lot of what I write, despite the particulars of genre, can fall under the general umbrella of the action-adventure story. Even in these there is a cycle of tension and release that plays with the audience’s emotions. Two warriors clash with sword and shield, death just one misstep away. A police officer races through the streets to apprehend a fugitive, but will he catch them? A thief balances carefully on a ledge, the town guards just below him. People talk a lot about pouring your own emotions into your work, but you can play emotions like the strings of a guitar with pacing, tone, mystery, and danger. That’s what I usually do.

 

There are those situations where we pour everything into our writing. Phebe Yawson’s She Cried Wolf is a fantastic example of this. I was privileged to be the developmental editor for this book, so I went on Tyese’s journey with her and saw the raw emotion Phebe had poured into this book. It was striking how powerful some scenes were, and they echo with me to this day. I think you get to know Phebe more following Tyese’s story, because I could tell that she poured a lot of her own personal experiences and emotions into the book.

 

I mentioned that I usually write an action-adventure, and rather than pouring emotions into the story I fine tune narrative aspects with the calculated intent of affecting the reader’s emotions. There’s one exception to this, and that’s my upcoming post-apocalyptic novel, What Once Was Home. This book and She Cried Wolf couldn’t be more different from one another at first glance, but when you dig down into the emotions that lie under the settings, plots and characters; you find they are very similar.

 

There’s a lot of shared themes between these books, and loss stands out as the strongest connecting thread. Loss of innocence, loss of home, loss of loved ones. Like I suspect Phebe did, I took many of my own experiences and emotions and used them to stoke the fires of creativity when I wrote What Once Was Home. Like Tyese’s story, Jace’s is a personal one where the main character must come to grips with repeated adversity and loss. Despite these obstacles, they both persevere. They grow and become more than they were, and they seek to discover a way to preserve some shred of purity within themselves even though they are faced with difficult decisions. How each of them approaches these obstacles, and the results of their decisions, are different. 

 

She Cried Wolf is a contemporary paranormal fantasy book full of magic, monsters, and focusing on family bonds. What Once Was Home is a post-apocalyptic military science fiction book with aliens, armies, and focusing on the importance of community. But, at the core of both She Cried Wolf and What Once Was Home, these are stories of what the human heart can endure.

Click here to find out more about Phebe Yawson’s She Cried Wolf, and B.K. Bass’ What Once Was Home.

 

About the Author

b-k-bass-author

B.K. Bass is an author of science fiction, fantasy, and horror inspired by the pulp fiction magazines of the early 20th century and classic speculative fiction. He is a student of history with a particular focus on the ancient, classical, and medieval eras. He has a lifetime of experience with a specialization in business management and human relations and served in the U.S. Army. B.K. is also the Acquisitions Director for Kyanite Publishing, the Editor-in-Chief of the Kyanite Press journal of speculative fiction, and the Writing Department Chair for Worldbuilding Magazine.