4 years, 3 corporate jobs later and the creativity is gone

I swear I’m not stealing this post idea from Jess (SWEAR). Last night I was rooting around the basement storage area and found a little box of mementos of the early days of my relationship with Matt. I found two disks: “Marcoda’s Stories” and “Work in Progress”. “Work in Progress” was the name of a screenplay I was working on. I had no idea what was on the “Marcoda’s Stories” disk. Oh, side note: When I say “disk” I mean an actual plastic floppy disk. There were two stories on it. They were super short. And they were, if I may say so, pretty not bad. I remember writing these when I worked in a call center and was bored out of my mind.

Now I’ve hit a slump at work and am equally bored and listen to audio books, perfectly happy to let someone else be the creative one.

What the heck happened?

Here they are, two untitled tracks from Marcoda’s past (No, you will NOT be reading my “fantasy” story about a thief out to avenge her parents murders):

There’s an exceptional quality about a blind man who’s just regained his ability to see. Beams of light and color crash into eyes that until that moment had only been white orbs whose soul purpose was to fill the voided sockets in his skull. Now he feels pain. Pain shooting into the back of his head and piercing parts of his brain that had never before experienced the coursing of electrical currents that translate into color and shape. Arms shoot up to his head to shield his precious virgin eyes from this onslaught of visual rape. After he brings his panting breaths under control and gives up trying to calm his pounding heart, he realizes what has happened. He saw! He saw what other people have been trying fruitlessly to describe to him his entire life. He gingerly opens one eye. It snaps shut again. Even behind the shield of his arm, the light is too much. He’s determined now, however. He’s been given a gift and he’s not about to hide behind this self-crafted barrier. Slowly, he lowers his arms. He’s standing there, arms at his sides, with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He relaxes his muscles but keeps his eyes shut and stares at the light shining through the lids. For the first time he sees that just because you shut your eyes, that doesn’t mean you can shut out the light. A small, awkward smile creeps across his face and an astounded laugh escapes from his lips. It’s so wondrous. Both eyes closed yet he can see the pink circle that his two eyelids created. He can see!


She peeled back the green foil ever so delicately, allowing the sweet scent of chocolate infiltrate her nostrils. It was now fully exposed on its bed of tin. She placed it gently on the kitchen table and stared at it. The soft moonlight shone through the window casting its eerie glow on the chocolate’s surface. She swore she wouldn’t eat this last piece. She promised her husband she would save him at least one piece out of the economy sized, pink and red ribboned satin box. So what? It was her Valentine’s Day present after all. Not his. Why should he get any of it? She sighed and glanced up at the clock. 3:17. He’ll be getting up for work in a couple hours. Was it that late already? Yeah, that made sense. She’s woken up around 2:00 and crept down stairs to sneak just one chocolate before making her way back up to the warm hollow in her bed. Over an hour later and 24 pieces of assorted chocolate later, she was down to the very last piece and going over the same arguments with herself as with the other 50 pieces over the course of one evening.

Her husband thought he was doing a valiant thing bringing her home that giant heart-shaped box. Doing his husbandly duty by not only remembering the stupid holiday but also bringing her 75 pieces of assorted heaven. Her weakness. Her chocolate. Oh, she was thrilled when he produced the box from behind his back. She jumped for joy and clapped her pudgy little hands with delight. Gave him the best lovin he’d gotten in 8 months. It was easy for her. For the entire love making session her mind was on her beautiful box of chocolate waiting for her in the china hutch. Afterwards when her husband left to clean himself, she ran downstairs and had just one piece. It was a caramel. Smooth velvety caramel that erupted in her mouth when she bit through the chocolate barrier. It was all she could do not to shove every last piece of the remaining chocolate into her little glutton mouth. She was disciplined though. She very calmly replaced the cover of the box and went back upstairs to crawl into bed beside her darling husband.

She’d been down to the kitchen three times before this last one. Now she was angry. What was her husband thinking bringing home 75 pieces of chocolate. He should have known she’d be up all night fighting these inner battles. “Yeah, just save me a piece.” He’d said it so casually. So callously. Like it would be nothing for her to spare him one piece; like he just expected her to part with the most beautiful gift he’d ever given her. She sighed and glanced at the clock again. 3:22. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she just wrap up the chocolate and place it on her husband’s night table for him to enjoy on his way to work? It was probably that nasty cherry filling she hated anyway. Yeah, that cherry stuff with those weird nuts in it. She found herself carefully wrapping the foil around the chocolate once more. The foil had been folded and refolded so many times, she should’ve just forgone the foil and stuck the chocolate on the night stand as naked as the day it emerged from the candy press. No. She couldn’t do that. The wonderful thing about chocolate was the presentation.

Standing up from the table, she looked down at the chocolate in her palm. It looked so sad in its pathetic little wrapping. This just wouldn’t do. She clenched her hand around the chocolate and marched over to the drawer and found her holiday Saran Wrap. Good, she still had some green stuff left. She yanked off a generous piece of the Holly Green wrap and ripped off the worn foil from the now melting piece of candy. Noticing the bits of chocolate that remained on the foil, she paused. Can’t waste it. Her tongue shot out to meet the worn-thin foil and run across it, soaking up every last lingering bit of the chocolate that she would never taste again. Heaven. Little pieces of heaven. She shook her head and opened her eyes from their ecstasy driven trance. Ok. Back to business. Her hubby was going to get this chocolate. She furiously wrapped the chocolate all the while berating her self for being so weak. She was better than this. It was just chocolate. She’d have more. It’s not like there was a shortage of cacao plants in the world. With one final twist of the plastic she threw the wrest of the Holly Green Saran Wrap into the drawer and marched upstairs.

This was it. Her husband’s snores met her before she reached the landing. The whistling breathing of the best husband in the world. The man who’d given her the thing she treasured most in the world. And then expected her to give it up! No, that wasn’t true. He was her husband and just wanted to share in the wonderful treasure that represented their love. This was the least she could do. She tip-toed into the bedroom and over to his side of the bed. With trembling hands, she lowered the chocolate to the night table. Her hand shot back.

What if it was coconut?

No. It was the yucky cherry stuff she hated.

Her hand reached down again.

But what if it is a coconut? How many coconuts are in a box? How many did she have?

No, she ate them all. This one was for her husband. It was the cherry crap she hated so much.

But what if?


Before she could talk herself out of it again, she all but slammed the chocolate on the stand and ran to her side of the bed and dove under the covers.

Her husband stirred and rolled over to look at her. What was she doing bouncing around the bed at 4 in the morning? Oh, she was just putting a piece of candy on his table and tripped when she was getting back into bed. Why didn’t he go ahead and have that candy now? (The curiosity was killing her!)

“Mmm! Cherry-Pistachio! My favorite. That was so sweet of you to save it for me.”

She smiled, kissed him on the cheek, and rolled onto her side and fell asleep.



One Response

  1. […] Thank goodness I have photoshop to fall back on now instead of old literary works… […]

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