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Young Death

posted Nov 20, 2017, 9:36 AM by Crystal Raen

A few years ago I took a free writing course on Coursera. Following is the result of one of the assignments. 


Young Death 


There was rain hitting the glass panes of the picture window in the living room. The smell of wood heat came up from the basement and a wooden box full of broken crayons sat on the floor between Chris and me.


Quiet conversation takes place among the grownups while we color. We stop only to fight when he tries to fix my drawing. I have a typical three year old melt down. Our parents make plans for us to have a play date later in the week. We say goodbye.


Friday arrives, but I am sick. Mom is scared; I’ve thrown up too much. My fever is too high. She calls my aunt. “Kay, I’ve got to take Crystal to the Doctor. I’m afraid she has the stomach flu.”


It's late now, I’m asleep, tired from the doctor visit. Nothing left to throw up. I’m too tired to go see why mama is crying. The next few days are a blur. Everyone around me is sad. I want to see Chris. I’m told I can’t. The grownups give me some toys, tell me to go play. I do, but I’m confused. Then we all dress up. Everyone is wearing somber colors; I have to sit quietly in a pew. Everyone is crying, I try to give them gum and tissues.


They smile sadly and tell me to be still.


“Is Chris coming?” No one answers, they just sob harder. I feel sad too.


It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen my cousin. He’s my best friend and I want to play. I tell mama and my grandfather constantly. My grandfather says we will take a trip. In the car he tells me that Chris can’t play with me anymore. That God called him home. We park in the grass. We walk along and stop in front of two headstones. One for Chris and one for his father.


“Pawpaw, why can’t Chris come play with me?” I touch the cold gray stone that my grandfather says marks the grave of my cousin.


“He’s sleeping with the angels.”


“Can he come back when he wakes up?” I look up at my grandfather, he seems so tall, so strong, his tears scare me.


“He won’t wake up sweet girl, not in this world. He’s home with God now.”


“Can I go where he is?” I sit down now, still not understanding what happened, only understanding that my best friend was not there. I wouldn’t see him again. I didn’t truly understand what that meant, I only knew that I didn’t like it and it made me sad.


“Not for a long time. We cannot follow where he goes.”


My grandfather picks me up, my tiny body wracked with sobs. We get back into his car and drive home. I quit asking about Chris. I understand now that it upsets the grownups when I do.

Coloring Books

posted Sep 26, 2017, 11:36 AM by Crystal Raen   [ updated Sep 26, 2017, 11:37 AM ]

If you've not noticed, I've been out of action for a bit while I battle some serious writer's block.

In the meantime though I've taken up creating coloring books.

So if you are into coloring feel free to check them out while we wait for me break through the wall and get some more stories out.

https://www.amazon.com/Coloring-Cheer-Boring-Days-Crystal/dp/1974605884  https://www.amazon.com/Alphabet-Coloring-Crystal-Raen/dp/1973772167 

Abominable - Poetry

posted Mar 12, 2017, 7:44 AM by Crystal Raen

This was originally published on crystalraenwriter.blogspot.com on 3/29/2012.

Found another oldie on my old blog that was on myspace, it was about this guy who critiqued a lot of the Myspace poets. This one was written March 28, 2008, so yesterday was it's 4th birthday:


If there is something so abominable in this world as you
Allow me to free myself from your reign of terror
And watch it from afar.
You send the scorching heat down upon us,
And we, defending ourselves,
Raise our voices in vain to the heavens
From whence your words,
They came.
 
You have lasted many years longer
Than many of us have been alive
To toil with our pens
And our blank pads of paper.
And we try not to stand in awe
Of the way you tear our work apart,
As though instead of stone
It is but a feathered bed of fragile stuff.
 
You slash through everything in sight,
No one can claim themselves safe from this attack.
Words that twist our hearts in the agony
Of having literary children,
That, by you, have been rebuked.
Yet we go on, knowing deep down
That those sacrifices made
Are the only way to make our way
Slowly, but surely ahead.
And those of us that can take it
In stride and continue on our way,
Bearing the new knowledge like a badge
Instead of being contrite
Like those that stand their ground and fight
And fall behind, slowly, but surely
Left behind because of their own vanity.
 
Oh, abomination,
That the multitude of voices claim that you are,
Help me to wrap my mind
Around its very own thoughts
To change them into jewels
Of worth, of magnitude
Something rare
That elsewhere cannot be found.
Turn my words to something,
That will cause a rush of feeling
And earn a certain grasp of that reality.
The reality that touches us all,
No matter how rich, how poor, how big or how small.
 
Again and again the words they are beat down,
But every time they get back up
They are that much stronger.
That much more ready to go forth in the world,
To hold their own against the other monsters
That make ours seem so calm.
And I watch each and each as they march on
From this spot in which I hide,
Trying to gain the strength
I need in order to put myself forth.
And meet the man who can tear me down,
Yet in the same breath give me the tools
To build myself back up and to travel on,
And share these words with the public beyond.

13 Reasons Why by Jay Absher

posted Mar 9, 2017, 11:33 AM by Crystal Raen

Originally published on crystalraenwriter.blogspot.com on 1/29/2012.


It was Wed. January 25th, 9:00 p.m. - I wasn't quite sleepy yet, so I decided to read a few chapters in a book that I picked up at the store over the weekend. The cover appealed to me and the description on the back was vague enough to make me curious. So off my adventure started.


Wed. January 25th, 11:00 p.m. - I put the bookmark in the book, scolding myself for not getting to bed at 10:00 like I had planned on. I quickly brush teeth, jump into jammies and go to bed.


Wed. January 25th 11:10 p.m. - My mind will not stop turning with possibilities at what is on side 9. The 9th person. I have to at least read this section of the book so I can sleep.


Thur. January 26th 12:50 a.m. - I finish the book. My mind is reeling. My heart is pounding. My eyes sore from the tears I've cried off and on for over the past 3 hours. I sit back. I lay the book down. I pick the book up. I set it back down. I call my fiance.


"Did I wake you?"


"No is something wrong?"


"I just read the most astoundingly, heartrendingly, beautiful story that I think has ever been told. I will not be able to read another book again."


"You are not okay. What book was it?"


"The one you bought me over the weekend. It was just, oh my gosh, I can't describe it, you have to read it. I think the author may have ruined his future career. There is no way another book could be this profound again. Not in our time. I want everyone to read this book. I have to go buy as many copies as I can afford and start giving them away."


"Sweetie, you need to go to sleep. You have to work tomorrow, you are talking a mile a minute."


"Will you read the book?"


"Will you go to sleep if I do?"


"Yes, I love you. And when you read the book, I think you are Clay. And I once came entirely too close to being Hannah."


"What?"


"You'll understand when you read the book."


"Okay, I love you too babe. Good night."


"Goodnight."


Click.


Sunday, January 29th 8:10 p.m.


My fiance brings the book back since he borrowed it.


"Babe, I am so glad that this book will be in our library. It was, wow, intense and so well written."


"Told ya." - Me with smug look.

I still haven't started another book  yet, I'm going to wait until the euphoria over having read something so mind bending wears off. When I think of the book my heart still breaks for the characters and my mind still screams for peace for some of them. But this book made me truly realize how everything you do, no matter how small, can have a huge impact on someone else's life.


Seriously. READ. THIS. BOOK.


Website for book: http://thirteenreasonswhy.com

March is Endometriosis Awareness Month

posted Mar 7, 2017, 7:29 AM by Crystal Raen

It is endometriosis awareness month. 1 in 10 women have endometriosis. It is a chronic condition that cannot be cured. At least not yet, I have high hopes as I am one of those 1 in 10 women who have endometriosis. I had surgery in August of 2013 to remove endometrial adhesions from my intestines, abdominal lining, my right ovary, and a chocolate cyst from my left ovary. When I say that my Bug (she'll be 2 in just a few months) was a miracle, I mean it. I’ve been very fortunate that the pain from endometriosis has not yet returned to the level that it was before my surgery, but it has been gradually worsening month by month and I dread to be one of the women who have to have repeated surgeries throughout their lives in order to maintain the pain at a level that is tolerable. That isn’t enough, we need more research, more doors opening to help us treat and possibly cure this disease.

For more information about this disease visit: http://www.endomarch.org/


Poetry in Rain - Crystal Raen

posted Mar 1, 2017, 5:54 PM by Crystal Raen

Orginally published on crystalraenwriter.blogspot.com 11/9/11.

Here is a poem I wrote when I was probably 15, had it rejected several times and retired it. Dusting it off, making no changes, and posting in here. Just for my own amusement mostly:

Storm
Thunder races,
Through each cloud.

Lightening shatters
The calm serene air.

Clouds roll toward
The peaceful home.

Slow and steady.

Pit-pat
Pit-pat

The rain begins.

Animals scurry,
To their dens.

Leaves turn up,
Welcoming each mouthful
Of fresh, sweet rain.

Slowly the thunder fades,
Into a deep,
And low rumble.

The lightening,
No longer fierce
Dims.

Slow and steady.

Pit-pat
Pit-pat

The rain,
It fades away.

Crier's Release - Crystal Raen

posted Feb 27, 2017, 7:40 AM by Crystal Raen

Originally published on crystalraenwriter.blogspot.com on 11/1/11.

Revisiting a blog that I used to write with Blogophilia, everything on the blog was just spur of the moment, impromptu type writing. Thought I would share a few of these pieces with you starting with a poem I called Crier's Release. Going through this older blog has really made me miss all the Blogophilia folks. I am posting the poem as is, no touch ups, no rewording, etc. Just how I wrote it back at the age of 22/23. Here it is all blemished for your to read and critique (be harsh I know it needs it!)


"Crier’s Release"

Have you ever thrown your head back,

And just soaked up all the rain,

Listening to the thunder,

Trying to hide all that pain?


Have you ever tried to hide,

The tears that fell down your face,

As people walked by laughing,

Making jokes of your disgrace.


When the rain finally stops,

And the tears begin to dry,

Do you find yourself pretending,

That you never need to cry?


When these feeling shake your world,

And your heart yearns to be free,

Let go of all your doubts,

And your soul can finally be.

Importing Blogs

posted Feb 23, 2017, 5:02 AM by Crystal Raen   [ updated Feb 23, 2017, 5:02 AM ]

I will eventually get my most important blogs from crystalraenwriter.blogspot.com transferred over to this new site, I think this will be a much better option than trying to feed in the RSS into the blog page as it seems to be glitching despite my best efforts for it not to. So please continue to bear with me as I work on my webstie.

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