It may take the shape of poetry

Trigger warning/suicide

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Photo by Hailey Kean on Unsplash

Praying to the Unicorns? No. Not praying.




Unicorns are as real as Gods and sons of Gods when

your wrists are slit open. When

you are bleeding out. When

there was no other option, no other person, no other thought, feeling, emotion.

Only desperation.

Praying to the Unicorns makes as much sense as accepted nonsense, water to wine, bread and fishes, invisible power listening, caring, allowing pain and


no proof of existence.

Unicorns are as real as Gods and sons of Gods when

you are crawling or curled. When

your body spasms. When


Memory loss and brain fog aren’t just annoying; they are dangerous.

Lamp posts along a trail in the fog.
Lamp posts along a trail in the fog.
Photo by Rory Björkman on Unsplash

I'm far too young to be this old.

I started the aging process a bit younger than most. Not only did I have a full hysterectomy in my 30s, jump-starting menopause, but I have done a lot of damage to my body. I started smoking cigarettes when I was ten. I poured a lot of poison down my throat and have put worse into my veins. I began drinking and using drugs at 13. I continued well into my thirties. I no longer use drugs or even drink beyond the occasional glass of wine or bottle of beer. I do…

With a pen in her mouth and ink in her hair?

Headstone in a cemetery reads “Cast a cold Eye, On Life On Death. Horseman pass by -W.B. Yeats”
Headstone in a cemetery reads “Cast a cold Eye, On Life On Death. Horseman pass by -W.B. Yeats”
Photo by Mark de Jong on Unsplash

What is she doing over there? Eyes glassy. Blank stare? Is that ink in her hair?

Words pressing in her brain. Images went in, they want out again. They are trapped in a prison of fear and shame. The words want out. Now! They are beginning to cause pain.

The small voices speak inside her. They say she is bad; she is wrong, they can’t abide her. She’ll fail. She’ll fall. She’ll stay off the horse. She’ll let it ride her.

Too many years chasing the dragon. The words build and build. She hops on the wagon.

Years and years…

50 or 100 Words

Thrifty Words 100 and 50 Challenges #6 and #27: Entitlement

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Photo by Giorgio Trovato on Unsplash

I have a problem with “everybody is a winner” and “everybody gets a prize.

I believe it creates a false sense of accomplishment and breeds entitled little pricks who grow up to be entitled big pricks.

Healthy competition is, well, healthy. But healthy competition has a winner and a loser. Or a winner and a not winner.

My belief is when two or more people compete to reach a certain goal, whether it is a correct proof for a mathematical theory, or a foot race, the best apple pie, or…

100 Words

Thrifty Words 100 Roundup #5: Working Through the Pain

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By Snow_white_1937_trailer_screenshot_(5).jpg: Petrusbarbygerederivative work: Gilles (talk) — Snow_white_1937_trailer_screenshot_(5).jpg, Public Domain,

The other day I went to the doctor.

I’ve had a sinus infection for the last six months or so, but didn’t want to go see the doctor because Covid. So I lived with it. I lived with the headaches and the facial pressure. I just kept working through the discomfort.

When I started to cough, I went in because, well, Covid. I got the trifecta of swabs- Covid, Flu, and Strep. All negative. 100% sinus infection. The standard treatment I get for sinus infection is a shot of steroids, a shot of antibiotics, a prescription for antibiotics, and Mucinex…

100 Words

Thrifty Words 100 #5: Working through the pain

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Milk Goat: Painting by Jonica Bradley

As I sit to write this Thrifty Words 100 I am in pain. I don’t wanna.

But I’m gonna.

I’ve learned to work through the pain. Any kind of pain. Physical pain is easier for me to work through than emotional pain.

I dissociate when emotionally hurt. Sometimes I can’t feel parts of my body. I go into a fog mentally. I get stupid. My brain doesn’t work. Emotional pain causes my pistons to misfire. I am unable to work on all cylinders. Everything takes longer and is far less eloquent. I make silly mistakes. …

POMprompt #22

During blackouts, I see the whiteout

A snow covered cabin in a snow covered clearing in front of a snow covered forest
A snow covered cabin in a snow covered clearing in front of a snow covered forest
Photo by Fabian Mardi on Unsplash

I stand at the kitchen sink
water boils on the stove.

I stare at the window
frost slowly clears.

I pour the boiling water
heat sears my skin.

The pane has cleared.
I look up and out on a vast expanse of white
so bright I cannot see
the snow stretching out in front of me.

And I wash the dirty dishes
frigid water soothes.

We were very fortunate. I live in the Texas Panhandle and we never lost electricity. Our hot water pipe did freeze under the kitchen sink. I had…

50 Words

Thrifty Words Roundup #25: Temptation

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Photo by SwapnIl Dwivedi on Unsplash

I’m exhausted, injured, and in a brain fog. Running on 4 hours of sleep, feeding two babies on a schedule, milking a recalcitrant goat who just this morning kicked me in the shoulder, chest, and forehead (nearly knocking me backward off the milk stool) before kicking over the milk bucket nearly an hour later.

So, the intro to this roundup is: without further ado, please read 13 50-word stories about temptation. Look for Marla Bishop’s theme challenge on Monday.

Julie Ranson finds a diary

Terry Barr doesn’t go for a walk

Marla Bishop stays healthy

GrayMatter gives in

GB Rogut

100 Words

Thrifty Words 100 Roundup #4: Internal Struggle

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Photo by Anna Samoylova on Unsplash

It has been a very full week. We’ve had unprecedented freezes. Our kitchen sink hot water pipe froze. We had some baby goats that needed to be brought inside. Too many of my fellow Texans are out of electricity. Propane gas companies are running out of gas. Stores are running out of heaters and replacement pipes. Deliveries aren’t being made.

Today, (Friday) I’ve been kicked three times in three different places by a recalcitrant goat. I’ve suffered insomnia and delayed mental health appointments. I have struggled not to get drunk before 11:00 a.m. Turns out, I haven’t started drinking, yet…

Jonica Bradley

Writer/Painter/Poet/Believes in magic/nature/prays to unicorns/goat expert/bee farmer/mental health advocate/C-PTSD/

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