Charlie’s Angels

The time for talking is over.

The time for walking…is now.

Walk for SUICIDE AWARENESS!

Stay tuned to And So It Goes…Life
and look for a meeting near you.

I once knew a human so profoundly interesting that it took drugs and alcohol to understand him. We used to stay up late and talk about all the stupid shit that junkies talk, and hope one day some day we will finally rise from dirt and walk…enough talk it’s too late…

See?

It is easy to make up words and put them in sentences, but think and use your imagination beyond the box and between the lines:

 

Welcome to And So It Goes…Writing Contest!

 

Have you ever wondered if you had a talent for writing?

 

Do you already express your thoughts, words, deeds, actions, daily doo dads, stories, poetry, fiction, non-fiction, essays, or just stream of consciousness through paper and pens? Do you sit up late at night and write, and write, and write on your little blog that has a couple followers and that is your world.

 

Enter by Thanksgiving

Send  your writing in an email to andsoitgoesmag@gmail.com

All entries are anonymous

$10 Entry Fee

All writing will be judged by Professors and Professional editors from Cape and South Coast of Massachusetts.

 

WIN a BLUETOOTH STEREO SYSTEM Complete with AUX Cables and Speaker wire

Photo_00004

 

Advertisements

Fatal Thoughts

Today a friend that I hadn’t talk to in a while tried to commit suicide.
The news shook me up a lot more than people would be able to see on the outside. This person was someone, that even though I hadn’t talked to in about a year I can still hear laugh. I remember all of her hairstyles and her views on many different subjects. I still have pictures of us at prom, and although she changed her name and got a new sense of style she will always be someone I laughed and had a good time with.
Sure she was found and brought to a hospital where she will hopefully get the help she needs but will it be enough? The blow that everyone felt to just hear the news that she even attempted this act is one that can not be described, or even shown by rivers of tears. The impact that I felt was something that I didn’t expect…mainly because it came a couple hours after finding out she was okay.
I have never lost anyone close to me, except my grandparents. Never before had someone close to me try to take their own life, and come this close to succeeding. I have always tried to make sure people know how much they mean to me, but after this I know that I need to try harder. When do you know it’s too late to tell someone how much they mean to you?
Hopefully it’s before they’re gone for good.
~Hayley Fray
Sun beam of love

Casualties of War

Locked in a constant battle with an enemy I can’t defeat.
His strength is never ending impossible to beat.
Waging this war against him has brought heroes to their knees.
Those who oppose his reign of terror become casualties.
Confusion and chaos are his weapons of war always on the attack.
Taking no prisoners, sparing no lives, never looking back.
His strategy always calculated whereas I can only guess.
Clouded is the battlefield as I search for wounds to mend.
Sifting through the wreckage looking for a fallen friend.
My enemies face appears to me and things become much clearer.
All the while this war was fought standing before a mirror.
My defenses are no match for an enemy such as he.
I have finally come to realize-that the enemy is me.

anonymous author

20131107-174414.jpg

My Story

I grew up on an island off the coast of New England called Martha’s Vineyard. It is a special place to me. My earliest memories are of the woods and golden sunlight on green grass that was just mowed. Insects reflect light buzzing in the heavy air. The trees are filled with leaves of dark hunter green. Cookouts and gatherings, fellowship, love, laughter, and song.

When the winter hits there is not a soul around…but silence and the falling of trees.

The house my father built stands strong on post and beam. As a child I imagined it was a castle. It was right around the time Robin Hood was made into a movie with Kevin Costner and Morgan Freeman. I fell in love with the art of swordplay using sticks and some times knives. Usually it was imaginary…my mind had a powerful imagination…looking back I see trouble in that little boys eyes that could not have been stopped.

Until now…

One day the kid is home from school and is feeling like he is ready to become a ninja. At this point I think the kid is obsessed with 3 Little Ninjas, and looked like tum tum. But with no one around to play fight with, the kid searches for something to fill the need for companionship and action and rush and excitement…anything that made this kid feel alive he did.

Before he can even remember the kid is on a scooter headed out of town before his father finds him.

The plan was simple. What was complicated is the consequence…because what is real and what is fantasy to a young boy hopped up off of soda and candy and Hollywood?

The filet knife rested in a brown leather sheath. It was just like a sword and the kid felt dangerous, just like his hero Robin who ran around the hood and made bad into good.

The afternoon sun is laying low before it has to go to bed. The trees still have a look of life. The air was crisp with a bite of cold of air. Enough to see a faint wisp of breath.

He stared across the driveway to the neighbors land. There was a path that connected the two houses. It was worn in and could tell of many feet pressed into the brown earth of dead leaves.

Crouching low, the kid moved in stealth down the driveway that sloped up a small hill to the house.

In his mind, he really has no idea what is going on, and the reason for the target is even more complicated. But nothing was going to change the plan to fix what went wrong.

What did go wrong?

Voice Inside

Mike Sussman

Mike Sussman

It’s been a lonely road these past years

Now as time goes by and I think

Sometimes the pain of it all brings me to tears

Worried often of the road ahead and where it will lead

I set forth on my adventure with high hopes

While being cautious of people, and of dopes

I am hopeful my spirituality will guide me

My heart, and soul, and sober mind intact

I hope to stay off butts, and avoid a heat attack

Through these troubling times of mine that I’ve caused

I hope one day that I can stop, pause, and enjoy freedom

I’m much too worn out to live a destructive life like this

What I want now is to be loved – to come home to a kiss

In time the truth will be told – I will survive.

Anonymous Inmate

From “The Voice Inside