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The Critical Soul

Posted in Thinkingten posts and comments, www.thinkingten.com on March 27, 2014 by Illyria Taylor

She called him at midnight again, screaming that he had killed her soul, again he hung up. How dare he trash her novel, it was her soul she put into it, and he killed it with the stroke of a pen. Twice she had seriously thought of shooting him from the church bell tower where she sat everynight with her sniper rifle. She thought to use a red lazer scope to give him a moment of panic, to know how she felt when she saw his words, but the more she came to hate him the more she just wanted his life to be over. Tonight she didn’t take the shot, she leaned back, took her finger off of the trigger, and lit up her cigarello. Maybe her nightly 3am call to him would give her some relief, maybe he would agree that he killed her soul, if he would just say he did, she would end the phone calls. Those four words would change her life forever, it would mean that at some point in her fucked up life she did have a soul once, before the hatred and the pain and the disappointment crept in.
She looks at her watch even though the church added a clock to the tower, she could hear every movement of the minute hand, tick tick tick, more moments of life lost to her forever. It is almost a quarter to 3, she leans forward, rifle in hand, a cell phone in the other, and waits for the next call.
.
.
He answers the 3a phone call as he always does, this time she isn’t screaming. “Don’t you see that you killed my soul, does it bother you at all?’ she pleads to him.
“Lady, you killed your own soul along time ago, I can see it in every word you write” he says in hushed tones.
“Thankyou” she says and hangs up the phone. She puts the sniper rifle down, and pulls the handgun from her pocket. He was right, about everything, every word he crucified her with was right. She puts the gun to her head and pulls the trigger.
(2010)

Posted in Thinkingten posts and comments on December 21, 2012 by Illyria Taylor

Big Ben

There’s a rumour going around that the term “it was a pallbearer-dropping-the-casket start to the day” is an indication

of it’s going to be a bad day. Still in half sleep half dream mode I remember when the Haller clan actually did drop

Uncle Ben on the way out of the church. Irish Catholics can turn anything into a party, so there were many jokes about

“did anybody ever check for a pulse” and “we knew he’d go down fighting” and finally I stuck the missing bottle of

whiskey in Uncle Ben’s casket and that made him happy enough to let us put him in the ground. Gads, how many

years ago was that? Anyway, considering I have nothing but hilarious recollections of that term I can’t seem to

relate to this new phrase. In the distance there is an ever growing annoying beeping sound that finally reaches

crescendo levels and I jerk awake and slap the snooze button on my alarm clock. Big Ben says it’s 5:30a and I have

to go to work soon. Oh, now I get it.

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Take it Away Tues

it was a pallbearer-dropping-the-casket start to the day

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Comment by Blake N. Cooper on April 14, 2010 at 8:50pm
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Nicely done, Alisa.
Thanks, all, for playing along with my wacky prompt. I thought of it in the elevator the other day. Weird, I know.
Comment by Michael D. Brown on April 14, 2010 at 8:37pm
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Excellent take on the prompt. This phrase is new to me also, but I can see how it describes one of THOSE days to a T. Never would have thought of working it into a dream. Clever writer!
Comment by Coraline J. Thompson on April 14, 2010 at 4:26am
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Hey at least we both got a laugh about the phrase at work today!!!
Comment by Edward Dean on April 13, 2010 at 6:31pm
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Beautiful recollection of a REAL feeling story Alisa! I really don’t care about the facts but I bought the emotional portrayal. Your writing voice is developing into a new reality. I like it.

Finally, Mercy comments

Posted in Thinkingten posts and comments on December 21, 2012 by Illyria Taylor

For all the 16 years of her devotion and love, all I can say is that in the end, I finally showed her Mercy.

 

 

 

 

 

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Comment by alisa rynay haller on April 13, 2010 at 10:33am
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thanx all. This was hard to write.
Comment by Blake N. Cooper on April 13, 2010 at 10:08am
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Hi Alisa. I just wanted to let you know how moving this piece was for me; you sure have a way with words. Thanks for sharing these rare emotions—not the easiest thing to do, but why we love the art of writing.
Comment by alisa rynay haller on April 13, 2010 at 7:49am
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Thanx CJ, I’ve taken to calling China “Ruffy” suddenly, I hope it is not a portent of things to come. We both need to find sainer jobs.
Comment by Coraline J. Thompson on April 11, 2010 at 10:38am
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I, like you Alisa, dread the day when I will have to put down my own animals after having worked at the shelter where we both euthenize animals day in and day out. I wonder, when that day comes if I will beg for forgiveness because I gave them a life of being kenneled and not spending the much needed time each day with them or if it will be much like putting down any other animal at the shelter. There are moments when I think of an animal at the shelter, and know without a doubt that I care more for that animal than I do for one or two of my own.

The one thing that I hate the most about what it is that you and I do, is play God and decide who lives today and who doesn’t.

Long live Ruffy – may her spirit be filled with joy.

Comment by Edward Dean on April 11, 2010 at 8:29am
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Very touching piece Alisa.
It’s hard for me to relate because I’ve never had pets, although I did have a number of younger siblings my mother let me drag around at the end of a rope! 🙂
Comment by alisa rynay haller on April 9, 2010 at 2:08pm
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well then that is much better. (enthusiastic you’re welcome!)
Comment by alisa rynay haller on April 9, 2010 at 1:51pm
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oh paul, you’re welcome, but I wish it was for something better
Comment by alisa rynay haller on April 9, 2010 at 1:32pm
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thanx,
Comment by Travis Smith on April 9, 2010 at 1:18pm
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Wow – that evokes a range of emotions – nicely done.

Posted in Thinkingten posts and comments on December 21, 2012 by Illyria Taylor

Going Home

  1. Someone from the past had been sending me messages for days, weeks, eons on end. My dead twin brother, I buried him on Halloween four years ago. I finally decided to buy the one way ticket to home, the suicide note I left read simply; Gone Home.

When I arrived in Hell I was greeted by the Lord and Master himself, Lucifer.

“My child, you’ve finally come home” he said to me as he kissed me on the cheek.

“Daddy, you knew I would eventually” I said as I hugged and kissed him back. “Now where is that worthless brother of mine?” and we chuckled as we walked arm in arm through the gates of my Father’s Kingdom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Comment by Michael D. Brown on April 11, 2010 at 7:47pm
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Who’s your mother? Are you Rosemary’s Other Baby? You are either one clever hellcat or a beautiful demon.
I enjoyed this immensely.
Comment by alisa rynay haller on April 8, 2010 at 2:30pm
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that’s an idea…thanx
Comment by Jessica Lafortune on April 8, 2010 at 2:29pm
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Interesting twist–would love to see where this goes…
Comment by alisa rynay haller on April 8, 2010 at 2:25pm
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ahaha! although that may have been an insult, are you saying I’m not charming enough to seduce the old guy? hmmm.
Comment by Coraline J. Thompson on April 8, 2010 at 12:58pm
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LMAO! hey I think I know where the brother is!!!!