Tuesday, September 10, 2013

The Price of Life - Poem

Price of Life
by Krystina Grant
__________

For everything there is a price
A cost of mind, heart or soul
Friendship, love, life . . .
And sometimes
The Price is darkness . . .
Pain
With no way to escape . . .
Is the price worth the pain?
Is it worth the darkness?

December 5, 2008

Saturday, September 7, 2013

A Writer in the Works by Olivia Stark

A writer in the Works
By Olivia Stark

There have been many stops and starts, not to mention set-backs, for this aspiring author; but she continues to endure.

Born to a young mother, and adopted at three days old by Harold and Helen robinson, Krystina Grant grew up in San Diego, California as an only child. She had four older siblings, three brothers and a sister, who had already grown, at least physically.

She never quite fit in with her adoptive family. She also wondered why there were never any pictures of her mother pregnant with her. Yet she didn’t learn of her birth parents until age 28, when she discovered a legal document of her father’s, which listed her as an adopted daughter. “It never came up, and when my nephew told me I was adopted, I apparently flipped out,” Grant said. “I’m thinking this was around the time my friend, Diane, was in the foster care system, and the people that were taking her in decided they didn’t want her and sent her back.”

Later in life, she started to believe she might have been the product of one of her father’s many affairs. But at 28, the truth finally came out.

“I was house-sitting with my then husband and our children, and they had a living trust done for them, and it was delivered by one of my brother’s girlfriends at the time. And I thought, okay, I don’t know what this is about and I don’t  care if I’m in it, but I wanted to find out how these kinds of things break down, so I decided, okay, I’m gonna read it.”

That was when the revelation came. “My name popped up on the first paragraph, and it listed me as “an adult adopted daughter.”

This time, her parents had no choice but to tell her the truth. Within a month, she found her birth mother. Within eight months, she located her birth father. She re-united with both parents, at least temporarily.

Grant’s passion for writing began at age 11, when she was assigned a two-chapter story. She wrote a twist on “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” called “The Nine Critters. The characters were based on the stuffed animals on her bed.

The following year, she and a friend were roll-playing a story. Her friend suggested they write it down. From there, she began script writing. 

“I could write for “Fantasy Island”, I could write “Battlestar Galactica”, I actually combined the two of them – it was a lot of fun.”

At 15, she began writing free-verse poetry, along with a comedy play she wrote with her best friend, Nicole Renee Bissett, that could have earned the two of them millions. It was called Love On the Socks”. Sadly, it never made the stage – yet.

Later in high school, she tried her hand at romance novels. She amused her class mates by writing short romance fictional stories coupling them with their favorite musicians or movie stars.

“I had a mad crush on Tom Selleck,” recalled her long-time best friend, Nicole Renee Bissett. “She wrote a really cool story about how I was a journalist and got together with him writing a story on him. Ironically, that was long before I ever even thought about becoming a journalist. Those were some fun times, and we needed fun times back then.”

Grant’s nine year marriage, which was stormy from nearly day one, ended in divorce. But out of it, she got two grown children, Jordan and Cassandra. She is currently living with her good friends, Jason and Susan Schneider, and her daughter, Cassie, in Spring Valley, California. She continues to edit her first novel, and is excited about the prospect of publishing.


To chat with Grant personally, you can email her at lillyblade@gmail.com  

Monday, September 2, 2013

Writing Exercise. Word Ice Queen


She couldn't believe it! The man actually had the nerve to call her ICE QUEEN?! She was stunned and furious. The man had been nothing but abusive during their stormy 10 year marriage; yelling, name calling, verbal put downs, emotional abuse . . . and even on occasions he'd hit her.

Emily Grant had stayed through it all, even though, if she'd been smart, she thought, she would have dumped him years ago. But then . . . she wouldn't have her children and she couldn't imagine her life without them.

But ICE QUEEN? It wasn't exactly unexpected that he'd try to instigate a fight with her upon bringing the kids back after his weekend visitation. Usually it was something to do with the kids; like spots on the clothes, or that she didn't pack the clothes they needed or something or other. It didn't matter to her because it seemed half the things she packed didn't come back anyway. So why send more??

But ICE QUEEN?? ICE QUEEN?? Over all the times he'd been an ass and had hurt her emotionally, verbally and physically, she'd NEVER denied him sex! HE was the one that wanted to jack off in front of his computer screen instead of coming to bed with her. So if she was the Ice Queen then he was the Court Jester, perferring images on a screen to her in the bed. What a boost to her self esteem THAT had been!

It was after the birth of their second child . . . a little girl . . . she decided that enough was enough. She didn't want her daughter growing up and finding a man just like her father. Emily didn't wish that for her daughter and she prayed that it wasn't too late for their son, who was six at the time of his sister's birth. Two years later, they'd been in court; court order for visitation and all that fun stuff. He had never gotten over the fact that she had DUMPED him.

THAT was what the continued abuse was all about. She knew it, but it didn't make her feel any better. He was sore that she left him. He was sore that she didn't love him anymore or want to be with him. 'Gee, I wonder why that would be,' she thought sarcastically to herself. 'Why wouldn't I want to stay with such a charmer!!'

Though he was gone, the tiff replayed in her mind. The bastard had the nerve to call her an Ice Queen as if SHE had been responsible for their divorce. It had nothing to do with him being an abusive jerk! Nope! Couldn't be!

Eventually, her daughter, who was now 4 years old came up to her.

"Momma?" she said with concerned eyes.

"I'm, okay, baby doll," Emily smiled as she picked her up and put her on her lap. "Mommy was just thinking about something. But don't you worry . . . everything's fine."

"Can we have pizza?" she asked.

Emily smiled.

"I think Pizza is an excellent idea! What kind do you want?"

"CHEESE!"

"Okay, we get half pepperoni for your brother and cheese for us," she said.

"YAY!!" the little girl squealed in delight.

For the moment, the argument was pushed into the back of her mind. She had more important things to focus on.

Saturday, August 31, 2013

Poem - Falling Angel

Here is another poem of mine
******

Fallen Angel
By Krystina Grant
August 9, 2006

I fell through the darkness
Stars like diamond dust my only light
Scattered across the sky
Black as death . . .

Once I flew so high
Touching the sky was possible

Anything was possible . . .

Yet time is not so kind
And my wings of white
Have turned to black
Now broken and failing me

I plummet toward the ground
Knowing it is the end of all I have ever known
That darkness will take me

But I am only a single angel
Alone
Falling . . .

Thursday, August 29, 2013

Poem - Cast Down

This is a poem I wrote a long time ago.

Cast Down
by Krystina Grant
July 31, 2006

In the darkest depths of hell
Beyond the fires
Into the darkness
Into the cold

There is where I reside
Alone
Fearful
Cloaked by the shadows
Away from the light

Nothing to save me
No one . . .
I feel nothing but pain
Sadness

Crying out for salvation
Yet met with nothing
But more darkness
More pain

There is no escape . . .

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Another Writing Exercise - Word Meadow

I wrote this a couple of years ago, but it's one of my favorites.
******

He wasn't supposed to have found her. She thought she'd covered her tracks. But somehow, there he was . . . unfortunately. The idea was that it would be over. She'd be alone and at least find peace. There would finally be peace and no more pain.

She stared out across the meadow. It had been her place of solitude so long ago. She'd fo
rgotten than she'd taken him here. Her mistake, she thought sadly.

With a long ragged breath, she closed her eyes.

"You need to leave, Daniel," she said.

"Not without you," he said simply.

She couldn't look at him. His chiseled face and blue eyes . . . strong like stone, but she knew the side he hid from the world. Like all of them, he had a soft spot too and apparently she was it. But she didn't want to be it. She wanted it over.

"Lara, you can't do this," he said softly.

"But I can," she replied.

He saw her finger twitch on the trigger, as the pistol with silencer was pressed firmly against her temple. He knew she was serious. He'd seen it in her from the moment they'd met. But somehow he had to stop her. After everything, he couldn't lose her.

"Lara, just take a moment. Just think . . . Tell me why," he implored; anything to stall the dark haired beautiful before him from taking an action that could not be undone.

"You know why," she said. "Just leave me." She choked back a sob. "I am tired. I am sick of the world we live in. I can't live with the memories of the world I somehow managed to survive. The bullet is just making things official. I was dead a long time ago."

"No, Lara," he said. "You weren't. I felt you alive in my arms. When I kissed your neck and your shoulder . . . Your heartbeat would rise . . ."

For a moment, he thought he saw her waiver.

"That's life . . . right there, your heart beating . . . heat . . . touch . . ." He slowly inched toward her. But immediately, he saw her stiffen again. The momentary waiver was gone.

"That was . . . lust," she said. "Chemistry . . . hormones . . . pheromones . . . nothing more."

"Is that what you honestly believe?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, but even the softness of her voice fractured at the simple word. It was a lie. Only he could read her so well.

"Then look me in the eye and tell me that you don't love me," he said. He needed to get close enough to her. If he could look into her green eyes, then maybe he'd have a chance . . . stall her . . . save her . . .

She battled with her feelings. It was like a raging storm and there was no end in sight. She felt as if she was a ship constantly being bashed upon the rocks over and over again. Pain just grew and now he was here. She'd wanted to shield him from this side of herself, but someone he'd known. He's sensed it and followed her. She didn't want him witnessing this final end to her pain . . . to have the image carried with him forever of her weakness and inability to fight the pain any longer.

Barely above a whisper as she bit back tears; she implored him. "Daniel, please just go . . . I don't want you here."

"Look me in the eyes, Lara," he said. "You look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me and I'll leave you."

Steeling herself for the lie to come, she swallowed hard. Carefully, she moved, never taking the gun from her hand, or away from her temple. Her green eyes were like marble by the time she gazed at him; hard and cold. She'd learned to do that well long ago.

"I don't love you," she said with as much cold as she could muster. But through her emotional fog of pain, she noticed he seemed closer . . . too close . . . She had to act. She didn't want him to see, but now there was no choice.

He had used her indecision to inch closer; distracting her with his request. Seeing the muscle in her arm begin to twitch, he struck like a snake, grabbing the weapon from her and pulling out the clip tossing both as far as he could out into the meadow. She moved to stop him, but was met with nothing but his muscular chest. She pushed against him and shoved at his chest, but in the end, she just dissolved into tears.

His arms held her close. Finally . . . the tears . . . she needed the tears and he needed her. The man made of ice wasn't any longer, not since meeting the girl made of fire. Their line of work rarely made for happy endings one way or another, but he would find a way; for them.

Lara had run so far and so long trying to escape the past that had always haunted her and the overwhelming pain that came with it. She'd never trusted anyone; never let the walls down far enough to allow anyone in until Daniel. He'd made it through her defenses and wanted to save her . . . he wanted to save her so badly, but she wasn't sure she could be saved.

"Don't give up, Lara," he said softly as he kissed her forehead. "Don't give up on me or yourself."

Suddenly, in the distance, she heard the sound of a helicopter. Her eyes turned to Daniel's questioningly. "Thought you needed help," he said simply and before she could argue or struggle, he used a small injector at the artery in her neck and tranqed her. He watched as her eyes grew glassy. "I love you, Lara, and if you think I'm going to just let you die, you've got another thing coming . . ."

Those were the last words she heard before everything faded away into darkness.

Sunday, August 25, 2013

A Positive Thought When You Have One of Those Days!

Thankfully I haven't HAD one of those days lately, but tonight I am a bit tired and just wanted to share something empowering!