Prompts

Maybe Another Word for Indecision

/ Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 12 Comments

The Daily Post Prompt: Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt. Maybe   images-3-min

Don’t you hate it when someone puts you on the spot with an unexpected invitation? I do and like many people tend to fall back on the old reliable, “Maybe.”

It’s a word (answer) we believe will help get us out of making a decision or a commitment we’re certain, in the back of our minds, we aren’t, can’t, or won’t  keep. We don’t want to hurt feelings so,  “Maybe” gives us a way out. Only, it’s not a way out; it’s indecision.

“Decision is a sharp knife that cuts clean and straight. Indecision a dull one that hacks and tears and leaves ragged edges behind it.” Gordon Graham Tweet this

Now, I’m not preaching to the choir or holding myself up as a decision guru. When I worked, my decisions were quick and decisive, but take me out to dinner and this is what my decisions look like.”Maybe” has be2011-05-10-at-a-restaurant-minen my fall guy for many years.

“Maybe” has been my fall guy for many times. But, here’s the thing, it also leaves jagged edges behind.

Invitations stop, projects lay unfinished, and feelings are hurt. As I’ve gotten older, I do my best, to be honest with myself and say, “no” instead of “maybe.”  It isn’t always easy, but I have encouragement from one of my all-time favorite resources – a book by Manuel J. Smith, Ph.D.

When I say no, I feel guilty.  Since the day I discovered this book, I have kept it close by for easy access and referral. The very from page includes a Bill of Assertive Rights.

“You have the right to say, really No, without feeling guilty.” Manuel J. Smith Ph.D. Tweet this

The next time you’re tempted to say “maybe” want to say, “No” – be true to yourself; you have that right.

I’d love to hear your comments. Talk to me. Tell me your story and look for me on Facebook at SheilaMGood,  Pinterest,  Bloglovin, Twitter@sheilamgood, Contently, and Instagram. You can follow my reviews on Amazon and Goodreads.

Predictable? Maybe

/ Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 9 Comments

The Daily Post Prompt: Unpredictable – “behaving or occurring in a way that is not expected.”

Not likely; most who know me will tell you I’m very predictable. I keep my house clean enough one would think the Queen of England was visiting. My kids will tell you I can never keep their Christmas or birthday presents a secret, and I’m an obsessive planner and list maker.

My husband would say, besides being the most opinionated and challenging woman he’s ever met, I have no sense of direction. My sisters will tell you I’m an uncompromising conservative, among other things, but I’ll leave those adjectives to your imagination. Yet, I’m a complete fly-by-the-pants writer – go figure.

To be honest, they’re all correct – to a point. I’ll admit preferring the known to the unknown.Predictability gives me a sense of safety in a world that’s growing increasingly uncertain and unsafe by the day. Give me a map, my lists, instructions, or detailed plans any day. I’ve had my share of unpredictability, and I don’t like it.

However, I’m open to other opinions and words of wisdom, see for yourself:





What about you? Are you Predictable?  I’d love to hear your comments. Talk to me. Tell me your story and look for me on Facebook at SheilaMGood,  Pinterest,  Bloglovin, Twitter@sheilamgood, Contently, and Instagram.

The Recurring Nightmare

/ Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 4 Comments

The Daily Post Prompt: Nightmare

The sound came from far away reaching deep into her dreams. She twisted underneath the covers and listened for the disturbing sound. A frown creased her brows.

There it was again – louder. The temperature in the room rose. She tossed from side to side and kicked at the covers. The chilly night air mingled with the sweat covering her body. The sound grew more frantic. She groped for the comforter and pulled it to her chin, shivering.

A whimper escaped her lips. Oh my, God. It was the baby. Get up, get up. Her heart pounded against her chest as the cries tore at her heart. Kicking the covers to the floor, she called out, “I’m coming.”But, she couldn’t move. She thrashed against the force keeping her in place.

“Honey, wake up, wake up.” The firm touch and steady words of her husband broke through the fog, and she opened her eyes.

“You’re having a nightmare,” he said.

“Let me go,” she said pushing at his hands. “The baby’s crying.”

He held her in place. “Look at me, look at me.” She stopped struggling and turned to him. He shook his head, no. “It was a nightmare.”

Tears flowed from her eyes. “It was real. The baby was crying. I heard it.” Her whispered words faded into the night.

He pulled her to his chest.”I’m so sorry, honey.”

“Oh, God. What did I do?” Choking sobs filled the silent room.

“Ssh, it’s okay,” he said, stroking her hair; it was all he knew to do.

 

Dark Cloud Hovering

/ Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 9 Comments

DAILY PROMPT: Clouds

Dark Cloudimages-33

She couldn’t remember the last time she noticed the clouds. One day, like a magician’s trick, they disappeared – poof.  She missed the metallic smell of rain and scared didn’t begin to describe what the country was feeling. The first and last words on the radio or news channels were, “The worst drought since …” Blah, blah, blah.

Shit, for that matter, all the heat made it difficult for her to remember the year. Her brain felt as fried as the landscape. Dead shrubs, grass that crumbled into sawdust under your feet, and flowers with their blooms bowed and shriveled was all that was left. A rose is a rose until it’s no more. Damn, that sounded sad.

Sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled down her sides. She slipped on her sunglasses, moved to the curb and raised her hand praying for a cab and the comfort of air-conditioning.

Her hair fluttered across her face in the same instant a gust of wind lifted her skirt, and a breeze tickled her sticky thighs. Wind!

The air turned nippy, and the sky darkened. Removing her sunglasses, she watched the large dark cloud moved overhead and hovered. The whole country had prayed for rain. Maybe, God had heard.

She checked for the small pocket umbrella hiding in the bottom of her bag; it wasn’t there. Why add the weight of something you don’t need to an already bulging bag? Who cares at this point, she’d love the chance to dance in the rain.

The cloud grew darker and expanded. Something about the way it swirled and danced made her shiver and nervous. The electricity in the air was palpable making the hairs on her arms stand at attention. Bouncing on her toes, she scanned the streets for her rescue. Jesus, where were the cabs?

The earth shook with a sudden roar and rumble. The sound was deafening. The wind rushed against her back, pushing her into the street. Flailing against the invisible assault, she dropped her purse and portfolio into the street. Papers flew into the air and scattered. Jesus H Christ!

She scrambled for the pages littering the landscape, grabbing what she could and running after the others as the wind lifted them skyward beyond her reach. Her ragged breath echoed in the middle of an empty street. Fear slithered down her spine like a snake. Everyone was gone. The familiar storefronts blackened as if they’d never existed.

She whirled around searching for anyone. Her heart pounded as she let the last piece of crumbled paper fall from her fist and covered her ears as the dark, angry clouds roared.

The ground shook, knocking her to her knees. She clawed at the pavement and tried to hold on as the darkness of Hell enveloped her, robbed her of oxygen and the rain of a thousand years drowned out her cries. Why me?

I’d love to hear your comments. Talk to me. Tell me your story and look for me on Facebook at SheilaMGood,  Pinterest,  Bloglovin, Twitter@sheilamgood, Contently, and Instagram.