In today’s Adventures of Arthur Puddles we find him relaxing with his rubber ducky in the bath for National Rubber Ducky Day. The poor little ducky never made it to the water before Arthur fell asleep.
I nearly stumbled down the grassy hill after Theresa punched me in the stomach. My left arm struggled to hold on to the books in the crook of my elbow. The right one, swinging free, hung limp. It seemed the fear was more significant than my humiliation. I couldn’t fight back.
Theresa’s rage quickly turned towards my sister. For just a moment, I felt relief that I wasn’t her target anymore. But I did nothing to stop what was coming. My sister had her ponytail pulled so hard; I could see the redness of her scalp and little spots of blood from the ripped out hair. Still scared, I knew this aggression was far from over. The sinking feeling in my stomach was causing havoc on all the nerves in my body. I wished so hard not to be there anymore.
Why were we being attacked? What is it I was supposed to have done to Theresa for this aggression towards my sister and myself? I was so confused. I was scared too. So scared.
Theresa turned around to me again with a look that backed me way down into myself. She threatened my life, and I believed her. Then she slammed her open right hand so hard up against the left side of my head, leaving me with nothing but loud ringing in that ear. It was surreal. The left side of my whole body felt numb and on fire at the same time, while the right side was still part of the ordinary world. She glared at me as we both precariously stood on the hill. She’d braced herself into the hill, and I’d leaned slightly back, securing a foothold in the grass. I remember hearing her mumblings in my head after a bit, but for the life of me, not one sentence in my mind was coherent. I still can’t remember what she said or what I replied. Whatever it was that I uttered, the words seemed to appease her. I’d managed a reprieve for myself and my sister. Our tormentor finally left us alone and walked away.
I can still remember the colors of the grass. And the everydayness of that regular walk to the house. The smell of the wind wasn’t meaningful, and nothing was out of the ordinary. It was all just so average. In a second, all that changed to me becoming a bruised emotional wreck along with my sister. That afternoon was awful. Bathed in fear, I was feeling about as small as anyone could get. But I remember still being happy to have walked away relatively unscathed. This attack happened, for no reason other than Theresa had a bad day. She was a bully, and we were her targets du jour. We happened to cross paths with her on the way home from school — lucky us being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
In looking back, I realized courage was lacking in me that day. Self-preservation was the instinct on that hill. But it stirred a resolve in me. I wasn’t going to back down anymore. I realized I shouldn’t be afraid to stand against anyone who would seek to harm me or anyone else who was vulnerable. I wasn’t going to be intimidated anymore.
Bored, I knotted the cloth strip into a bow. The music channel the cabbie was listening to was dull, but I guess “to each his own.” My taste was different, and it showed in my style.
I picked up the file on my client to burn time. “Annoying fly!” I uttered as I aimed for his butt. That’s when I noticed the window sign – PLEASE DO NOT KILL ANY LIVING THING. Thankfully, it continued to buzz around. I tried to disguise my anxiety as the driver swung around.
“How dare you swat at my Sugar Bell!” said the driver.
Phoebe (PMU) is a wonderful artist/doodler who caught my eye back in late 2017 when I first became a part of the WP community. I always look forward to seeing the new creations she publishes on her blog –The Daily Doodle.
This artwork struck me as being so warm and inviting reinforcing the message of the words. I hope you enjoy as much as I did!
Amidst all this chaos, I felt hope. The accident meant Pop couldn’t hurt me anymore. Walking under the tree branches towards the hospital steps, I smiled.
The hanging chart said he’d flat-lined once already; now, he’s comatose. Hopefully, he got his financial matters sorted out. Giving everyone their slice of the wealth pie won’t be easy in this family. I’ll need to stay to make sure it is all worked out.
First, breakfast – a scrambled egg, and some coffee. How careless of me to neglect my needs. I guess I’m used to it being around takers all my life.
Not trying to knock my efforts here, but I don’t know if I would call it great art. One definition of art is that it is a form of creation, so expressed in that way, I DID ART! And I enjoyed it very much.
I was excited to be notified today that my sketchbook“I’m Fine” was received and within the next 6-8 weeks, it will be digitized for the whole world to see. When it’s live, I will post more information so you can see my creation for yourselves. Please be kind.
To give you a little bit of backstory on this, last year I ran across an ad about it and decided to participate. My thought was to showcase my writing in a non-traditional way. Seeing how I delight in being untraditional, this made perfect sense. Plus their mission statement below encouraged me to say “Hey, why not?” I loved the inclusivity of this project and it gave me an opportunity to try something different than I would normally do.
12 years ago when I started The Sketchbook Project, I wanted to create an informal outlet for anyone to create art, with a purpose. I believed and still believe in the notion that a creative community is stronger than its individual artists and that a project can be impactful in a way that is different than a traditional gallery.
With over 45,000 sketchbooks from 30,000 different global creative people, we have grown over the past 12 years to be the largest collection of sketchbooks in the world. We have reignited art careers, inspired first-time creatives and even helped a few marriage proposals.
We find ourselves at the intersection of the social and digital transition and analog ephemeral needs.
By allowing anyone to participate, we have grown to a massive worldwide community of not only professionals but amateurs, moms, dads, mailmen and more.
We do not believe in the statement ‘I’m not an artist.” Because it doesn’t matter. Share your story, draw your stick figures, just own it.
We can promise you a lifelong commitment to keeping your artifact safe while continuing to act as a time capsule for global creativity.
Thanks for being a part of our community.
FOUNDER / DIRECTOR
For more information about it or if you’d like to get involved with the next one coming up – Volume 16, click here.
I have a story I’d like to tell. I made a promise to myself that I would survive. I grant you; it wasn’t easy. The only choice I had was to strip at the local men’s club after my boyfriend left me. I chose to trust him, but it was just a trap. Shame, though, because he checked all the boxes on my list. I know that doesn’t matter now. Sure would be great to wave a magic wand and change my sorry past. But I guess it’s good that I’m still here.