The Ghost Writer (5)

Copyrighted

Sorry it’s so short…

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“This is it Dean! I can’t take it anymore. I’m really starting to get freaked out,” Casidi greeted Dean when he came to pick her up for church.

“Baby, did it happen again?” His own confusion shown through those dark eyes.

Casidi merely gestured to her bedside.

Crossing the room in three strides, Dean bent over to inspect the typewriter.

“Are you messing with me Casi?” He asked, holding the pages between his thumb and his finger.

“No! I’m not freaking messing with you. Someone is messing with me!”

“Calm down, sweetheart. Where are the other pages?”

“They’re in my desk.”

Dean took a moment to read through the stack.

“This stuff really flows. Your dreams are intense.”

“I’ve never had a dream like this, Dean. And this has never happened. I want you to keep the typewriter in your dorm tonight. Please.”

“Of course. Now, come on if you still want coffee.”

“Please.” She mustered up a smile. Dean put his arm around her.

“What’s wrong?” He asked when she flinched. Casidi slipped her sweater off her shoulder to reveal the bruise.

“Who did that to you?!” His mood turned red.

“I did. In my sleep. Let’s just go.”

Dean hesitantly shut the door behind him. He didn’t like what was happening to his girlfriend. She was a mess. Hopefully getting the typewriter out of the dorm would be enough to calm her down.

Just as the door clicked shut, the window slid open.

“They’re going to move the typewriter. How are we going to monitor her if they take away that element?”

“Well we’ll have to figure out where the boyfriend lives.”

 

The Ghost Writer (4)

Yes, yes I know it has been a while, but that’s alright. You can always go back and read the last three installments. (Found under the category Fictional Thoughts)

*Copyrighted*

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Casidi didn’t want to fall asleep. The dream would come back, it would end up written up on her typewriter, and things would just be weirder.

She called Dean up.

“Baby it’s two in the morning. Don’t we have church tomorrow?” He answered.

“Yeah, but I can’t sleep. This dream thing is really weirding me out.”

“It’s only been two nights.”

“Well, yeah, a recurring dream is one thing. A recurring dream that ends up on my typewriter the next morning, complete with editing? That’s something else entirely. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Then put away your typewriter. You can’t type anything up if it’s put away.”

“Oh… that’s a good idea.”

“Get some sleep, beautiful. Coffee before church?”

“It’s a date, handsome.”

“Ok. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Casidi felt her body relax. Nothing beat hearing her man say those words.

“Goodnight.”

Dean hung up and Casidi set to putting away her typewriter. It went in it’s case in the closet across the room. She pulled the sliding door closed and promptly fell asleep.

………

She and Dean were in a car. But his name wasn’t Dean here. It was Charlie.

“Where are we?”

“On our way to San Antonio. That’s where the answers are.”

“That’s hundreds of miles away.” Dream Casidi went with the bizarre scenario, hoping it would make more sense.

“Not anymore. We’ve been on the road for three hours. We’re getting close.”

“Dean did you do this?” Casidi gestured to her bandaged side.

Dean/Charlie glanced over. “No, you did that. We stopped at a gas station remember? And stop calling me Dean. I don’t know who this Dean guy is, but there better not be anything going on with you and him.” He looked rather put out.

“Sorry. I’m still light-headed from… blood loss.”

Charlie’s face softened. “Does it hurt baby?”

Casidi focused on her side and washed in mind-numbing pain. “Oh!” She gasped. “A lot!”

“We’ll get you to a doctor after we get to San Antonio. We just can’t risk going anywhere else.”

“Who’s after us?!”

Something smashed into the side of their vehicle.

……….

Casidi shot out of bed as her alarm rang the beginning of Sunday morning. She hopped out of bed and got in the shower. Her mind was reeling. How was this dream continuing every night?

She didn’t feel rested at all. Her sheets indicated that it had been a restless night.

Casidi leaned against the wall of the shower and yelped in pain. Craning her neck, she spotted a large purple bruise on the back of her upper arm.

“What the-” Obviously she had been a bit more restless than she thought.

She dried off, put on a dress, and was on her way out the door to meet Dean when her peripheral vision caught something. Her typewriter was out of it’s case, by her bed, with two new sheets typed up cleanly.

Book Review: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

First of all the title is incredible.

Incredible.

This book is written in the form of letters to and from the main characters. It follows a writer, Juliet, as she discovers a literary society on the island of Guernsey.It is set shortly after World War II.

It’s an adorable story filled to the brim with quirky and interesting characters. There’s such a variety of personality traits and settings.

There’s enough heart-wrenching twists to make the story deeper than simply an odd adventure.

I don’t want to give anything away because I don’t want to spoil the beauty of it, but if you’re looking for a good book, here it is.

If you have already read it, I would love to talk about it!

Confessions of a Ninja Ballerina: Bad Days

Some days are just bad.

You wake up and you have a headache, you’re just in a sour mood, your coffee didn’t even taste good, your hair’s a mess, you can’t find anything to wear, and for pity’s sake you can’t even get your eyeliner to look the same on both eyes.

Then you have to go to work.

Let’s be real here. Your boss doesn’t like it when you come in with a bad mood, your co-workers don’t like it, and the employees don’t like it. You have to get over it, but how?

In my case, it’s especially hard to find a minute to breathe because my job is watching and teaching 40 7-12 year old public school kids. But I have found that locking myself in the bathroom for a minute to breathe does wonders.

Really though, the first step in getting past your bad mood is letting yourself. Sometimes we get stuck in our grumpiness and we kind of enjoy the self-pity. Too bad. Be open to smiling a little.

Let your co-workers cheer you up. If you’re friends with any of them, they’re probably already trying. If you despise your co-workers (I hope you don’t. It’s miserable) then at least let their complete foolishness and ridiculousness cheer you up.

Filter out the bad employees. The rude comments, the frustrating situations, the immature arguments, everything. Don’t hold on to it. It’s not worth it. Instead pay attention to the friendly smiles, fun exchanges, and if you work with kids, the random hugs and odd conversations.

It all boils down to what attitude you choose to have. If you are intent and being sucked into this bad mood, never to return, then nothing will cheer you up. You have to be open to the good things happening around you and let them influence your attitude.

I hope you all have a really good day. 😁

Those Sinful Taxcollectors

I love learning new things about Jesus’ life and his mission on earth. I hope you feel the same.

This morning my mom and I read Matthew 9:9-13 (My favorite passage of the three. If you’re only going to read one of the passages, read this one.) Mark 2:13-17, and Luke 5:27-32

First off, to avoid confusion, Levi and Matthew are the same person. Don’t ask how that happened, I don’t know.

So, Jesus calls Levi (Matthew) to follow Him, so of course he does, and he’s so excited he throws this banquet.

Well Jesus found Matthew sitting at a tax collectors booth, so obviously there were a few tax collectors.

The Pharisees and Scribes got all upset, because when don’t they?

They asked Jesus why He was eating with sinners. Jesus replied with the most awesome reply ever.

“It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”

Does it seem profound to you? Because it seems profound to me.

The first sentence goes along pretty well with the verse about seeing the plank in your own eye. Most of us know that verse pretty well. Careful not to misuse it. That verse isn’t saying that you must be sinless in order to judge another Christian’s sin. It is saying you have to be honest to yourself and recognize what your sin is. It’s about avoiding being hypocritical, not about being blameless and not judging others.

The second part of Jesus’ answer is referring to Hosea 6:6 and Micah 6:6-8. I encourage you to look them up, they are both great verses. They are saying how burnt offerings and sacrifices are not what God wants. He doesn’t want a big showy display of Christiaity. He wants acknowledgement and for us to walk with Him as best we can.

The verse uses the word mercy. Mercy does not mean excusing a sin and saying that everything is ok as long we love each other. It means desiring what is good for others. What is better than salvation and repentance? How can someone repent without knowing what their sin is?

The last part is Jesus reminding the ignorant Pharisees yet again what His mission was. It was not to call the righteous, but to reach the sinners and bring them closer to God.

Note the wording. Jesus didn’t use the word ‘believers’ he used ‘righteous’. Who among us is righteous? No one. We are all sinners. He was not saying He was only calling sinners and left the believers alone. He spoke to the sinners who recognized that they were sinners and recognized their need for Him. Not the self-righteous Pharisees and scribes.

Jesus was emphasizing the need to acknowledge your own sin and turn to Him. I love that. I love that that was His focus because it is so important to repent. It’s how we get closer to God.

The Ghost Writer (3)

(Copyright)


Her attacker stood over her, face hidden in a shadow. Casidi’s side burned again. It’s like it never stopped.

“Casidi,” the sinister voice said hoarsely. “You’re about to be saved.”

Casidi didn’t even have time to be confused. There was a loud clang and her attacker fell to the side, revealing Dean holding a trash can lid.

“Cas! Come on.” He grabbed her hand and helped her up. Suddenly her side was healed.

“Dean, what’s going-“

“Who’s Dean?” He replied.

“That’s… that’s you.”

“No. I’m Charlie.”

“What?” Casidi stumbled as he pulled her along. “You look like Dean. Where are we going?”

“San Antonio.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s where we’ll find answers.”

Casidi’s alarm buzzed her back to reality. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and took a moment to realize how weird it was for her to continue a dream the next night. As far as she could remember, that hadn’t happened before.

Her eyes roamed to her typewriter, almost subconsciously.

A fresh page, typed up. There was part two of her dream.

Casidi found Dean at lunch.

“You were there this time. You saved me from the guy who stabbed me.”

“I have been trying to tell you I’m the man of your dreams.”

“Except your name was Charlie.”

“Whoa, who’s Charlie?”

“You.”

“But I’m Dean. Why wasn’t I Dean in your dream? Do you not like the name Dean or something? I could change my name to Charlie if you feel that strongly about it.”

“Oh good grief,” Casidi laughed. “I like your name. I don’t know why you were Charlie.”

“You know, I read this article about how you never see new faces in your dreams. Always someone you already know. So maybe you were just using my face, and that guy isn’t supposed to be me.”

“Maybe. I wonder whose face the attacker had.”

“Who knows. Anymore weird typewriter incidents?”

“Yes, actually. Just like last night, every detail typed up to perfection. There was even a misspelled word crossed out.”

“Huh. What have you been eating before bed? More importantly…” Dean leaned across the table. “What have you been drinking?” He cracked a smile.

“A Dr. Pepper.” Casidi stuck her tongue out at him.

“Mystery solved! Don’t drink Dr. Pepper.”

“I had water the night before.”

Dean huffed and crossed her arms. “Stop poking holes in my half-baked theories.”

The Ghost Writer (2)

Here is the second installment of my pet project The Ghost Writer.

(This idea is copyrighted by me)


The typewriter had been a gift from her boyfriend, Dean Calloway, for her 19th birthday. As far as Casidi knew there wasn’t anything special about it. It couldn’t read minds or anything. How her dream had ended up on there in the perfect mystery novel form was beyond her.

Finally, Casidi pushed the odd incident out of her mind and worked on her Modern World History assignment.

At 7:30, Casidi donned her jacket, packed everything into her book bag, and set out for the café. She and Dean have a standing date every Friday morning at 7:45 and they haven’t missed one since the spring semester began two months ago.

He was waiting for her in their spot. As soon as Dean spotted her, he stood up and pulled out her chair.

“Thanks babe,” She said as he kissed her cheek.

“Anything for you,” Came his reliable answer. He sat across from her and adjusted his brown-rimmed glasses.

“So… something weird happened this morning.”

“What would that be?” Dean pushed a mocha towards Casidi, like he did ever Friday morning.

“You know that typewriter you got me?” Casidi clipped her long auburn hair out of her face.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I had this crazy dream last night, woke me up even, and it had been typed up. Every last detail, just like some fiction piece.”

“You probably did it in your sleep. Didn’t you tell me you sleep walk sometimes?”

“Yeah, but do you really think I could do that in my sleep? I mean, it was written well, the spelling was all correct… I don’t know, I just think it’s really weird.”

“What else could’ve happened though?” Dean asked as he sipped his steaming hot Americano.

“There isn’t really another explanation is there?”

“Well…” Dean got a glint in his eye. “The typewriter could have come alive and read your mind. Or you’re being possessed by some evil Japanese spirit… have you been to Japan recently? Or you are unknowingly part of some dream experiment. Or you are doing drugs. So which is it?”

By this point Casidi was laughing. “Ok, ok, I wrote it up in my sleep.”

“Mystery solved!” Dean spread his arms wide, causing a few sleepy eyes to glare at him with distaste.

They continued on with their conversation, talking about plans for the day and assignments they hated, not knowing that the entire conversation was being listened to.