Midnight Musings – A journal by Jade Walker

We’re all victims of our own hubris at times.

September 13, 2015 / No Comments

It’s with some sadness that I report my own demise. Cause of death was poisoning due to an inability to think fast.

If you’re interested, my last words were: “I just needed 10 more minutes, damn it!” These were exclaimed rather than uttered once the location of the much-needed antidote was revealed.

Ironically, I died while celebrating a friend’s birthday. In honor of attaining the grand old age of 40-(mumble), Mark decided he wanted to fete the occasion with a death-defying visit to an Adventure Room. Foolishly, M and I agreed to join him.

This proved to be a fatal decision for all of us.

On Saturday night, we drove to an office building in Connecticut. Our appointment was for 10:30 p.m. and the parking lot was both dark and sufficiently creepy. We rode the slow OTIS elevator to the correct floor, not knowing that we were heading toward our doom.

After signing in, the three of us were escorted to a room and told of our fate. The three of us had just been poisoned and while the antidote was hidden nearby, we had only one hour to locate it. The door shut with a solid and ominous thud and immediately we began searching for clues.

Prior to our arrival, I discovered that only 30 percent of participants actually survive the Remedy Room. But I was cocky and unconcerned; surely we could solve all of the room’s mysterious obstacles before time ran out.

Alas, we were 10 minutes too late. But dying turned out to be pretty fun. In fact, I may have to try it again… someday.
Bruised but not broken

August 25, 2015 / No Comments

Cuts bleed and sometimes require formal medical attention. Scrapes are inconsiderate, making the patch-up process unnecessarily difficult. Sprains and broken bones simply cause suffering. But bruises, these are the wounds that tell stories.

Bruises are chameleons. They begin as pink or red, don a bluish tinge, shift into purple then transform into various shades of yellow and green before finally fading away.

Bruises generally only hurt when pressed, but they remain a visible memory of pain. If you experience something traumatic, say a beating or a car accident, a bruise will show the world how you’ve suffered. Consider it the ultimate witness; a bruise cannot lie and may even help you obtain justice.

Best of all, bruises make great writing prompts. Where did you get that bruise? Oh, that came from smashing my knee into the coffee table while hurrying to answer the door for the UPS guy. What? I didn’t want him leaving my new computer in the rain.

This one? This bruise I picked up when the power went out, and the cat stepped right beneath my feet as I was walking down the stairs. Instead of stepping on her, I let gravity guide me. Right into the banister.

The bruise on my shoulder? That appeared while rappelling down a well to save a little boy. The rope swayed with our combined weight and I hit the wall with my side. Kid’s fine though.

To be honest, I have no idea where this bruise came from. It’s possible I’ve started sleepwalking again, and dreamed I was a vigilante or superhero. I imagine the fighting was pretty intense. You should see the other guy.

(Note: A writing prompt on The 10th Muse inspired this post.)

–Photo by Mensatic
Quote of the day

August 24, 2015 / No Comments

“No matter what happens: Go buy books. Share the love of those books. Talk about them. Give them to others. Get on social media and crow about them. Don’t be afraid of ideas and politics and people who aren’t like you. Embrace it. Come into the pool. The water’s warm. The drinks are cold. The stories are amazing. Read on.” —Chuck Wendig
5 true confessions of a jaded mind

August 23, 2015 / No Comments

* August has long been my least favorite month of the year. Perhaps because it’s so freakin’ hot and muggy.

* The happiest moment of August is when the fall catalogs start to arrive, particularly the ones that feature Halloween items. That’s when I know the relief of Autumn is on the way.

* If I spy a small animal — say a cat or a chipmunk — hanging around the house, I will leave scraps of food for it.

* I am delighted by good manners, common courtesy and kindness.

* I never tire of chocolate.
My place in the world

August 19, 2015 / No Comments

“You’re going to make choices that don’t seem important. There’s little ones like, what’s side of the bed do you want? Yeah, oh, I thought that was trivial. That’s your side for LIFE right there!” –Ray Romano

Last night, while watching a favorite film, I noticed that two of the characters, a long-married couple, ate dinner at a wide, rectangular table. The man sat at one end and the woman at the other, with two seats on each side of the table between them. It was clear from the story that they had always sat in these places, and for many years, children or guests occupied the middle seats. Once the children had grown and moved away, the two remained in their separate corners, still in love and still separated by the gulf of habit and space.

This stuck me as odd, even though I’ve seen similar tableaux my whole life. Yet when I eat a meal at a long table with M, it never occurs to me to sit so far away from him. Oh, I’m sure it’s more proper to do so, particularly when there are guests over for dinner, but my place has always been by his side.

When we first met, I think we sat this way to be closer as we were flush with the headiness of new love. But we’ve been together for nine years now, and the seating arrangement hasn’t changed. We always choose to sit near rather than far.

M and I have adopted similar arrangements for other activities too. We walk down the street, and he’s typically on the side that’s closest to the road. During a movie or show, he’s on my right. In bed, he’s usually on my left. I could be wrong but I don’t think there was ever a moment where one of us formally declared, “This is my side.” It just happened naturally, and now, over time has become our tradition, part of what Stephen King describes as the “interior language of marriage.”