Ames Pointer: Blog en-us Ames Pointer (Ames Pointer) Thu, 15 Feb 2024 14:51:00 GMT Thu, 15 Feb 2024 14:51:00 GMT Ames Pointer: Blog 120 67 Daily Prayer February 15, 2024 Lenten Daily Prayer

by Amy Pointer

February 15, 2024


Dear Lord,

         Be with the ones who try to fit into their communities and don't succeed. Comfort those who give their best effort to help, be kind, have patience, and to be Christ like to all, but who still get ostracized, talked about, or hurt by others.

         Shield their hearts from hurtful looks, from painful words, and from negativity. Let the world see their light and let it brighten the lives of people whom they encounter. Don't let them become discouraged. Help them not give up in their pursuit of doing what is right and good even when they don't receive the same compassion and love in return. 

         And when they stumble and fall, when they lose their patience, when they can't control their tongue at the injustices hurled against them, forgive them. Forgive them when they realize that they are human and that they can't be perfect like you, and don't let them lose their will to keep trying anyway in this difficult world to achieve sainthood. Give them grace, heal their broken hearts as they realize their shortcomings, and restore to them the light that shines from their soul.





(Ames Pointer) 2024 author catholic christian daily lent lenten prayer Thu, 15 Feb 2024 14:50:48 GMT
February 14, 2024 Prayer Something I decided to "take on" during Lent was to write a prayer a day and share it as a blog post.  I "gave up" sugar and social media, so if you see this post, know I shared it from the blog and I'm not scrolling. ha-ha Also, my coffee is very boring. 

I'm trying to limit my internet time to develop my God-given gifts to help others. It's hard, though. So hard. I like distraction. (lol)


February 14, 2024 

A Prayer by Amy Pointer


Dear Lord,


            As we begin Lent, and you go on your journey alone in the desert, take us with you, spiritually. Shine light on the things in our lives that bind us to worldly obsession. Show us the ways in which we can make the most of this life on Earth, and how we can use this life to help other souls find eternal life with you in Heaven. 

            As we move onward in the month, remember us, and our weaknesses. When temptation arises, help us be as strong as you were against the false promises of Satan, and be with us as we use our own free will to overcome them. Let us learn from this, let us grow from this, and let these forty days become the beginning of new habits that benefit us for the rest of our lives, rather than viewing it as forty days of sacrifice from which we fall right back into the snares of the devil. 


            Saint Michael the archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou, oh prince of the Heavenly host, by the power of God thrust into Hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. 



            Mary, mother of Jesus, pray for us. 

            Joseph, protector of our Lord, pray for us. 

            Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and all the angels, pray for us.

            Jesus, pray for us.

            Holy Spirit, be with us.

            God, love us. 



(Ames Pointer) Ash author blog book catholic christian guided Holy Lent me of pray prayer Spirit spiritual Wednesday with Wed, 14 Feb 2024 14:06:34 GMT
Seven Times Seventy, a poem I've been thinking of ways to expand on The Weeping Key. I wrote this poem, the idea was planeted during one of the gospel readings recently, and I think it pairs well with the novel. I've never claimed to be good at poetry, so don't think I have aspirations to become the next Maya Angelou or Langston Hughes. (Two of my personal favorites.) haha  

I hope you enjoy!



Seven Times Seventy

by Ames Pointer



Times Seventy

that’s 490 times we are 

supposed to forgive, but is that 

per person, or can we reach our quota,

 and start seeking vengeance?



keeps me

 far from heaven,

thinking about forgiveness.

Because, what if we can’t do it?



what if they 

can? Does the person 

that hurts us get through the gates,

while we stand outside them awaiting our 

elevator trip down to Hell?



on your deathbed, 

and all will be forgiven, but by whom?

.…..Not by us, not from the ones they hurt…..



they are able 

to cleanse their souls,

the stains of their abuse remains,

and for each lick of the belt, smack of the hand,

squeeze of the neck, we’re still left angry and hurting, 

unforgiving, even though we may say the opposite with words.



 what about us?

Is forgiveness endless?

Should it be?



say they 

are sorry and we put 

the pieces back together

but the cracks are still there,

held together by the glue of love,

but what if the bond breaks?





because we’ve been broken too many times?



them, for they 

know not what they do,

buuuuuuuuut, sometimes they do. 



they know.



they are aware, 

and they do it anyway,



it fills their 

negativity meter 

and they can easily move on,

and the ones they hurt are left 


                                      wanting to let go,

                                                             wishing to not remember…



we say 

we forgive, 

but we don’t truly 


and then 

the stain of 

anger becomes sin…


and now,

we despair, 



is hard,



is easy,

so we 


in the hurt


for change

but we 

never act,

because we feel 


and we 


if we 

just pray 

about it,

 it’ll disappear,


it doesn’t.



think if we 

ignore it, and bury it 

in the backyard, it’ll go away,



it comes to the 


like a dead body,


and we rot with it, 


because we don’t know how to forgive,

because we’ve reached 700, 

per person,


we are stuck,

dreading the end,

because they will surely die happy,

and they may repent and seek God and make it 

to paradise,

but we won’t,

because we are camels,

stuck in the eye of the needle,

waiting for someone to pull us through,


when what we really need is a hug 

and an ear or a kiss

to lessen the 

weight we 

carry of 



others not 

being who we want them to be, 

and finally, 



we realize 

that the one who 

needs to be forgiven isn’t just the 


but ourselves,

for all the things we’ve done 


not done,

or all the teachings 

we’ve heard but ignored,

for all the intuitions we’ve turned off,

or all the ways we’ve allowed others to use us,

or any of the things on our hearts that makes us wonder if we are good enough,

strong enough,

talented enough,

loved enough

then we’ll be able to let go,


we won’t 

worry about the end,


we will live in the now,

                                                                                                     at peace.


(Ames Pointer) author authors books catholic christian christianity fiction forgiveness Jesus poem poet poetry Thu, 28 Sep 2023 15:46:40 GMT
Behind the scenes of The Weeping Key Volume One: The Book of Tobit Behind the scenes of The Weeping Key

Volume One:

The Book of Tobit

A surprisingly controversial little story about how bird poop can blind you.


         In The Weeping Key, we follow the life of Katie ‘Tidbit’ Thorne (Tobit) as she deals with trauma from her childhood and the suicide of her beloved father, Vernon. My inspiration for the novel came after reading the book of Tobit, which can be found in Catholic and Orthodox Bibles but isn’t present in Protestant translations.

         Common questions that arise upon the mention of this scripture are: 

Why did the Catholics add it to their Bible? 


They didn’t add it, it was removed by Protestants. 

         Present in early translations of the Bible, and written in either Hebrew or Aramaic language, Martin Luther removed the seven books that are in the Catholic Bible and not present in the Protestant Bible. (They are often referred to as deuterocanonical or apocryphal, depending on who you are talking to.) He wanted them out because he didn’t feel like they matched with the theology that he wanted to implement. His first Germanic translation was missing 25 books, with such exclusions as Genesis, Exodus, Job, Jonah, Matthew, Luke, John, Acts, Hebrews, James, and Jude to name a few; but his followers didn’t allow him to accomplish that and replaced many of the books he removed. 

What is Tobit about?

I’ll put this in simple language because I feel that’s the best way to teach: 

         Tobit was a Godly man. He lived during a war and would go out at night and give the dead proper Christian burials. Tobit gets tired one day and falls asleep leaning against a wall, and as he sleeps, a bunch of birds poop in his eyes. (There’s no easy way to say that. It is what it is. It must have been a GOOD nap.) 

         When he wakes up, he’s blind. As time goes on, he begins to feel like a burden to his wife and son, Tobias. It reaches a culmination when his wife brings home a goat to cook for dinner one night. Tobit feels like a failure in every way because he can’t provide for his family. That night, he begins to pray and asks God to put him out of his misery and kill him.

         At the same time Tobit is saying this prayer, a woman named Sarah is in equal despair. Sarah has been married seven times, but all of her husbands die on their wedding night because Sarah has a demon, Asmodeus, attached to her. She feels like an embarrassment to her family, and like she’s a burden. She, too, begins to pray and asks God to kill her because she’s tired of the struggle.

         While these two are praying, God hears their prayers in Heaven and sends the archangel Raphael to earth in disguise to help both of them. Tobias is out and about one day and a fish attacks him. He kills the fish, and Raphael walks up and throws down some wisdom. Raphael tells Tobias to kill and save certain parts of the fish for later. He tells him which fish bits will heal blindness, and he tells him which fish parts will work as a burnt offering to drive out demons. Tobias follows the plan laid out to him by the stranger, and, to make a long story short, heals his dad, marries Sarah, and all is wrapped up with a nice little bow as Tobias gives his father the honorary burial he had been giving to other men all along, which had gained him favor with our Lord. 

That doesn’t sound so bad, what could be the issue with it?

There are a few issues that Martin Luther found. 

         One, there are a few minor contradictions with timing and age for Tobit. But given other places in the Bible with the same problems, for me personally, this wasn’t a make-or-break deal.

         He also felt it wasn’t clear enough whether it was a true story or a parable. Again, given Jesus's love of teaching in parables, and the use of allegory, metaphor, song, and poetry found throughout the Bible, for me, personally, this wasn’t a problem.

         Finding consistent information on why Protestants are against the Apocrypha is surprisingly difficult. With every click through the deep web of information available to us, opinions litter the ground forming a deep blanket that keeps us from seeing the bed upon which our faith should sleep. One common theme amongst the plethora of opinion pieces is that Tobit teaches us that one is saved through “works”. This is often an anti-Catholic talking point, and as a convert from atheism to everything in between before landing in the Catholic church, I’d like to express my opinion on that, and it might make sense to someone else. 

Jesus says it is more difficult to get into Heaven

than it is to get a camel through the eye of a needle.

         Our greatest commandment, according to Jesus, is to love God and to then love your neighbor as you love yourself. I take this to mean, that in order to fulfill the commandments properly, I have to actually DO something for my neighbor. It takes great effort to love yourself, and the action of getting up every day and doing something to make yourself a better person. Love isn’t something you just say, it’s something you SHOW. It’s an action, which, according to Jesus, prayer without action is dead. 

         I’ve always taken Jesus’s words to mean that we should pray, we should love- both ourselves which is HARD, and others which is HARDER, and that we need to take action for these things to work. I have to take action to show God my love through prayer, helping others, helping myself through spiritual, physical, and emotional betterment, and by DOING things. The idea that we just say we love God, and we go to church on Sunday, and we shake the dust off our hands in the meantime because we are “saved” seems WAY too easy to me. I can’t imagine Jesus came to Earth, God in human form, suffered horrifically both physically and mentally, and went through utter despair, all so I can say that because I went to church on Sunday and said some prayers when I thought I had time for it, that it would be enough to get the camel through the needle. 

         Works, however you want to define them, don’t “save” us. It is through them that we grow in our love, faith, and our spiritual life, so that we can become those lights for Jesus that he talked about in scripture that he didn’t want hidden away from the world. So I ask myself, how can I be a better light for Him? Is it through action, or works, or whatever you want to call it, or is it through the effort I take to make that manifestation of LOVE a real, tangible concept in this world?

         It is my opinion, which we are all entitled too, that I don’t think the book of Tobit should be excluded. Tobit took action, he saw good, Godly men dying in the streets, and he gave them the burial he knew God wanted them to have. It was through that ACTION that he gained favor, and his prayer was heard. Sarah kept trying, she kept trying to do what God wanted and she tried to get a man to make it through their wedding night, but it wasn’t working for her. She took action, and it didn’t work, but when she prayed, he still heard her.  We can hold two concepts: we need action, but we don’t always have to rely on it. Life is complex.

What drew me to Tobit?

         The idea that a person in despair can still love God and his creation, yet not want to be in it any longer. Suicide is something that ravages families. People feel like they can’t go on, usually through the way they’ve been treated by others or from feeling so alone and unnoticed. In this, we have Tobit and Sarah both feeling like burdens. They didn’t really want to die, they just didn’t want to feel the way they felt any longer.

         There have been times in my life that I’ve felt utterly hopeless, and maybe you have, too. Perhaps you’ve found yourself sitting in a house that is so quiet you can hear the electricity moving through the cables in the walls, ringing in your ears, and you think, “Why does no one love me? Why am I this alone?” You want to escape that feeling, in any way possible, but you look at the intricacies of our creation and you see God working through all of it, from a big level, to the smallest of atoms, and you think, “All of this was created for me to experience, and I’m unworthy of it, because the way other people are making me feel makes me not want to be a part of it any longer.” And you might start to debate whether or not taking your life will send you to an eternity of torture, and you may begin to think that even if that’s the case, it wouldn’t be so bad because it would have to be better than this, but something in you, the spirit that moves upon the face of the waters, reaches out and makes you come back to yourself, and so all you can do is sit in the deafening quiet and talk to God, and you ask him to help you, or to take you from it, because you simply don’t want to do it anymore, but you thank him for his efforts in creating this wonderful world for you, and you wish you could have loved it more.

         Or something like that. 

         I could see myself in Tobit, and in Sarah, and the fantastical idea that God could hear a lowly human and want to send his beautiful, majestic angels to help them. 

         And so, The Weeping Key began to manifest, with hints of reality forming a story that needed to be told so that someone else who might find themselves praying the prayer of “Help me, I don’t want to do this anymore” might remember that they are heard and that there is help, and that it’s all around you, always, even if it doesn’t come in the form of beautiful angels and time travel or actual conversations with Jesus. 


Hopefully, I’ve explained this well, and if you have made it this far, you can find my book on Amazon for Kindle and paperback. Shameless plug at the end. I have to make my 33 cents per sell somehow. Ha! 

I’ll be back with Volume Two where we will discuss Archangels, who they are, where they can be found in the Bible, and how they differ from other Heavenly beings next week.


(Ames Pointer) author books catholic christian christianity fiction protestant Sat, 26 Aug 2023 19:02:36 GMT
The Weeping Key release after thoughts: The Weeping Key

Now that the excitement of the weekend is over, I can calm down and make a better post for my book. haha 

I moved up the release of my book so that I could get that done before the kids start back to school. I had originally planned the release for their first day back, August 7th, but I had it ready to go earlier than that. This is my "little book that could". I know it isn't a perfect novel, but I consider myself to be more of a storyteller. Like an old man by a campfire telling a story that is going to keep your attention, and though it may be gritty or hard, you are going to remember it because it hit your heart in the right ways, or it made you laugh. So, given my time, resources, and abilities, I had The Weeping Key ready to go.

I uploaded the manuscript for digital release, I said a rosary, and I prayed to God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit to help guide it out there to the people who needed it. Because I don't believe in prayer without action, I used all the knowledge stored up in my mind palace and promoted it in all the ways I knew how. I also released it with a FREE promotion that lasted 5 days, because I've never actually viewed storytelling as a means of making money, I just want to entertain people, so I figured if I could rope some people in with a free book at first, then YAY! lol 

It went better than I ever could have imagined. Within a day, I was moving up in the top 15 books. When the free promotion ended, I was in 2nd, 3rd, and 3rd in a variety of categories. I kind of shut down mentally a few times over the weekend. Writing this story has taken YEARS. That is no exaggeration. I think I started working on it legitimately in 2020, but the brainstorming process for me happens well in advance. The seed got planted, and it quickly started growing, only living with three children and a husband who need me makes for writing and editing that moves slowly. I've also read that the 2nd novel a person writes is the hardest, and I find that to be completely true. Mainly because, I've already written one book, and I wanted this one to be better. I knew more about plotting, planning, and execution. There was never "writer's block", but there was a lot of "Am I good enough?". 

I finally buckled down and decided that Katie's story wouldn't help anyone if it sat on my computer until I died. Plenty of people do many amazing things without being "perfect", so I said to myself, "I'll be as perfect as I can be, and God will help me, because this story was for him." and look what happened?

Even after my free promotion, I woke up to find that I'm still in the top 100 paid books in my categories on Amazon. That is something I never thought I'd see. 

The best way to help with this novel from you guys: my friends, colleagues, readers, and people I care about, is if you read it, leave me a review. (Hopefully a good one, but hey, we are all different! Constructive criticism can help, even if I am a sensitive soul. lol) Or, you can share it on here or with your friends or loved ones. I offer it in the Kindle Unlimited plan so it is free if you enroll in that, and you can also share it with people for free there. 

I can only offer the free promotion once every 90 days, but I plan to do it as often as possible because I do GENUINELY believe this story can help people heal. If you or someone you know wants a copy and can't download it or afford it, let me know and I'll make sure they get a copy they can read. 

I wrote this book for people who have grown up not knowing how to feel a mother’s love. If a person has only known toxic love, then they think all love is toxic. In my book, Katie learns how to not only come out of herself and her inner world, but she learns how to GIVE that love back to others in a supportive way.

If you've read this far, thank you. And once again, THANK YOU to everyone who has helped by sharing, reading, or just giving me a like or comment on here. It does help me feel supported and not like I'm a silly goose just trying to fit in. lol 

The Weeping Key 2023The Weeping Key 2023

(Ames Pointer) author authors books catholic chrisitan christian fantasy Fiction indie kindle narcissism unlimited Mon, 31 Jul 2023 16:14:49 GMT


“Grief” is a work showcasing the emotions felt after a loss. I created this image after the passing of my father. When I created it, the world felt like it was coming at me from all angles, hence the murder of ravens. The colors around me felt off. They were still there, but they were all wrong without him. I felt like I needed to be an adult and support those around me, but internally I was taken back to the state of being a child, wishing someone else could shoulder the burden of loss. “Grief” is a representation of losing a father, a friend, and one of the people closest to me while sitting with the feelings of chaos and waiting for it to pass. 

You can purchase products with this image by clicking the image above.






(Ames Pointer) and apathy art artist birds black blue colors crows darkness death disconnect emotional emotions emotive fine gothic grief grieving horror living loss mourning photography portrait purples ravens sadness spooky white Thu, 01 Jun 2023 17:34:19 GMT
A Holy Week of Healing: How becoming a sponsor helped close wounds the pandemic left behind. I wrote an article recently for our parish bulletin and I wanted to share it here on my blog. Enjoy!


A Holy Week of Healing:

How becoming a sponsor helped close wounds the pandemic left behind.


         My husband and I joined our local RCIA program for the first time in the Fall of 2018. We both had the desire to bring our family into the Catholic faith, but in the winter of that same year we battled something we’d never expected: my husband’s slide into alcoholism powered by PTSD from serving in the military. We both dropped out of the program as he dealt with his disease, entering a treatment program with the VA in another state. It was through our mutual love of Catholicism that we came back together and healed the hurts left from those hard years. Catholicism truly saved our marriage. In the Fall of 2019, it wasn’t even a question that we wanted to reenter RCIA and finish the process.

         Then the pandemic happened. Our progress into the faith hit a wall. In-person meetings turned to zoom. The Easter vigil was canceled. Our group began entering the church sporadically through the summer months. I looked at my spouse before our turn arrived in September 2020, and said, “Do you think we are meant to be Saints or something? Because it’s feeling like the devil is working hard to keep us from becoming Catholic.” I felt guilty for feeling disappointed that we weren’t doing things ‘the right way’, but I felt fulfilled and ecstatic to see my children get baptized and for our family to partake in the Eucharist together. Still, I felt ashamed when I thought of Holy Week with a tinge of jealousy.

         In the Fall of 2021 our priest, Father Carl McCarthy, called me and asked me if I’d be interested in being a sponsor to a woman entering the RCIA program. It was serendipitous, because I’d been wanting to get more involved in our parish and with the people in it. Being an “introverted extrovert”, I have a hard time stepping out of my comfort zone and seeking social opportunities. When he called, I thought perhaps it was God himself willing me to get out and around others, so I quickly said yes.

         I met the Deras family at an RCIA meeting and instantly connected to Heather, the woman I would be sponsoring. I looked forward each week to attending the classes with her and her family (her husband Wilmer, and daughters Iliana, Beyli, and Sofia), and I loved having the chance to share the faith with them and answer questions they had. It was exactly what I’d been looking for. When they asked me to be the Godmother to the girls, I cried tears of happiness because I felt so honored.

         Holy week came, and I was open with them that I knew little about it or the events that it directly involved. It was something I hadn’t experienced, given last year when the time arrived my kids were sick and we had only attended Mass on Easter Sunday. I was as new to it as they were. And to be frank, that small space of sadness for what my family had missed still poked at my soul occasionally. I was afraid I’d feel jealous seeing the Easter vigil unfold, and that made me feel ashamed.

         Thankfully, the opposite happened.

         As we entered our darkened church, lit only by the fire outside and our candles in our hands, any negative thoughts on the experience evaporated. I felt called to be there this way… this was the way I was meant to experience it, leading others into our faith and our church. Whatever obstacles that had blocked our path before were for a reason, because at that moment, I knew this was the right time and it was the right night for it all.

         We listened as Deacon Gayle sang the longest song I’ve ever heard. We circled the Baptismal font as a group of children all became one with our church. We stood together in the front as our large group of candidates were confirmed.

         When it was over and I was driving home, I felt a sense of completion. Gone was the curiosity that plagued me, gone were the bits of jealousy or envy, all thanks to saying yes, at the right time, and for going out of my comfort zone and doing something new.

         As I sat with Heather at dinner, prior to the service, she said to me, “It feels like it’s taken twelve years for me to get here.”  and I responded, “But look at how far you’ve come in just the past nine months!” and it made me think of my own journey. How hard it had been at points, hard arduous the task was of just getting to church sometimes, and most of all, how the journey is never finished. It goes far beyond getting baptized and confirmed, sometimes leading us to paths that look different from what we’d hoped for. My Easter Vigil came differently, and it was a Holy Week I’ll never forget. 



(Ames Pointer) catholic catholic family easter faith healing holy week hope journey religion Fri, 06 May 2022 15:03:56 GMT
A Moment on Gratitude -A Moment on Gratitude-

Sometimes it's hard to find gratitude in the mundane, everyday tasks of life. More often than I'd like to admit, I find myself standing over the sink doing dishes, grumbling about how the work of laundry, kitchen, and home never ends. Wouldn't it be nice to take a break from all the 'normal' work and find everything still in place? That's not how it works, is it? We avoid our tasks and they multiply. One days break is two days work. So how do we combat the annoyance of repetative tasks and find not only joy in them, but thankfulness and comfort?

We can look to Saint Therese of Lisieux and her little way. We can look at our daily work as a form of prayer, and we can give up that "suffering" in exchange for our loved ones and to honor God. 

I think of it this way: I'm little. To God, I'm just one little woman on a big earth, but I'm always asking BIG things of Him. If I make all of my "little" tasks a way of honoring others, and Him, then eventually all my little ways will multiply and grow. Those dishes, piles of laundry, and dirty floors can help me grow into something bigger.

It takes some reminding, but the little way has helped me grow as a wife and mother, and I'm thankful for discovering it. Maybe it can help you, too.

Rosemary, no timeRosemary, no time





(Ames Pointer) #bissisterhood #catholic #catholicart #catholicartist #catholicblogger #catholicchurch #catholicconnect #catholiccreatives #catholicfaith #catholicfamily #catholicgifts #catholicism #catholiclife #catholicmom #catholics #catholicsaints #catholicsofinstagram #catholicwoman #catholicwomen #christian #faith #god #instacatholic #jesus #liturgicalliving #praytherosary #romancatholic #rosary #traditionalcatholic Fri, 05 Nov 2021 15:11:44 GMT
The Girl on the Grave Every fall I do a photography series with the kids where we shoot and edit something spooky. Usually I have some random theme in my head or I find inspiration from something I've seen in the store or a costume I've discovered in the back of one of my mothers closets. 

This year I wanted to do something cohesive, and I settled on the theme: "Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark". It was one of my favorite books as a kid. I didn't own a copy, but my friend did, and I read it every time I was at her house and spooked myself to the point I couldn't sleep. 

We've been reading it during our homeschool time this fall, and the kids have been illustrating the stories. I thought turning each story into a picture of them with my own twist could be a good idea.

This is the first in the series.

The Girl on the Grave is a story about a girl who was dared to stay in a graveyard at night, and as proof of her stay she is instructed to leave a dagger in the ground at a grave. Spoiler alert, it doesn't end well. If you'd like to read it yourself, grab a copy of the full anthology HERE

I had a lot of fun with it in photoshop, and I think I'll edit a few more. Eliot's acting was on point, though it took a bit to turn her terror into actual acting. She looks like she's laughing in the first few shots, but she got the hang of it. lol 

We were very respectful of the cemetery. We didn't stand on any graves, and instead opted to give the illusion we were nearer to them by shooting uphill.

Enjoy, and leave me a comment telling me YOUR favorite spooky story. 

The Girl on The Grave 2021The Girl on The Grave 2021

(Ames Pointer) art art series Autumn cemetery creepy fine art ghost gothic grave Halloween horror photography photoshoot scary spooky Mon, 20 Sep 2021 19:58:42 GMT
Writing Prompt: Water (982 words - horror) The kids and I had left their grandfathers house in journey to our own, and in what felt like a flash I was turning onto our street. 

    “This is weird,” I said to the kids.

    “What’s weird?” my eight-year-old asked.

    “I don’t remember driving here,” I answered. I really couldn’t. The forty-five-minute drive home felt like it had happened instantly. I’d zoned out while driving many times in my life, but never to this extent. I looked at my three kids in the rearview mirror. My ten-year-old and his floppy hair, my eight-year-old and her inquisitive eyes, and my six-year-old ‘baby’ who smiled and used her tongue to wiggle her loose front tooth. They seemed fine, but I felt a little worried that I was missing the whole drive. That couldn’t be safe.

    We barreled out of the car and I shooed them into the house. There was a man to the side of my driveway building a wall. My elderly neighbor was always adding on something to her house, so I smiled at the man and went inside, coming back out to take the garbage tote to the road for tomorrows pick up and finding the old man painting the orange brick walkway that led to my front door gray.

    “Sir, what are you doing?” I asked. I was panicking, as it was a horrible color and porous brick. “Please, stop.”

    He looked up to me wide eyed. 

    “Your neighbor told me to do this for you for your birthday,” he replied. “She said you’d like that it matches the wall.”

    I looked at the gray brick wall and then to my orange brick house and shook my head.

    “No,” I said firmly. “I don’t. It clashes with my house, please stop.”

    He sat the brush down and leaned back on his feet until he rested his rear on the ground and sighed. 

    “Seemed like a nice gesture to me,” he answered. “I’ve had a lot of birthdays, and I’ve had a lot forgotten. You’ve lived about five percent of the life I have, so I think I know a thing or two and I’d never reject a gift no matter the situation.”

    He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and took a drag while he eyeballed me with squinty eyes.

    “You trackin’?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

    I wasn’t. 

    I nodded to him, intent on giving my neighbor a call after I got the kids settled, so I went in and began to rush through our routine. I shooed the kids around the house, throwing easy dinners at them, passing them through the bathroom to get clean and tucking them into their beds. I read a chapter from out nightly book at warp speed and rambled through our prayers. I was getting so sleepy. 

    I turned off the light and shut the door. I went into the bathroom and took a hot bath, absently forgetting about my neighbor, much like I had the drive home. When I came out, the light was on in the kid’s room. I went in and found them talking. 

    “Guys, its bedtime, go to sleep.”

    I turned the light off.

    I went to the kitchen to make myself something to eat and saw the light flick on under their door down the hallway. Again, I walked to their room and stuck my head in. They were in a deep conversation and looked agitated. This is why I was against their wishes to all three sleep in the same room.

    “Turn the light off and go to sleep,” I said more firmly. 

    I went back to the kitchen to finish making my meal.

    The light came on.

    This time I was good and annoyed because they know better than to defy me three times. I swung the door open with a flourish.

    “I said go to bed!” 

    “I can’t! I’m scared of the water,” my eight-year-old said in a panic.

    I looked around at the dry room.

    “There’s no water in here, what are you talking about?”

    “I can’t sleep Momma, I’m scared of the water,” she cried. 

    “I don’t understand,” I shook my head, not finding their shenanigans funny.

    My ten-year-old looked down at me from the top bunk. His arms were wrapped around his shoulders and he was shaking.

    “I’m so cold,” he shivered.

    “I’ll turn on the heat,” I said cautiously. “Now guys, please, go to sleep.”

    “Momma, if you’ll just read the note I wrote you, you’ll understand, please,” she was begging me and pointing behind me. “Read the note. I’m so scared of the water.”

    I turned to get the note and found myself staring at me. I looked down at my outfit, we were wearing the same thing. She reached for me, and I stepped back.

    “No,” I said firmly. I was suddenly very aware. “I don’t want to remember.”

    I tried to get away from her, but she grabbed me by the shirt and slung me back against her and suddenly I was being drug down the hallway, reaching for my kids and screaming as I saw it all flashing through me. The rain. The traffic. The car flipping over the guard rail, filling with water, the darkness…it was so cold.

    I felt my chest seize. They were trying to revive me, somewhere. I knew it, and I knew it was too late for the kids and I didn’t want to come back. I was still dragging me, I don’t know where, it felt like a tunnel, dragging me, kicking and screaming with each painful zap into my cold chest.

    “No!” I screamed and sobbed. “I don’t want to remember! Please, don’t bring me back.”

    There was a song. It danced like a trickling stream of water through my brain, slow little beats that played with each pulse of my faltering heart…

and I woke up.  


(Ames Pointer) author creative fiction flash horror prompt writing Thu, 25 Feb 2021 15:14:00 GMT
Bad Poetry Series: Sons of Carmen at Midnight Hello my dear poets! Tonight's installment was written in the wee hours of the morning. I woke up and had a hard time falling back to sleep, so naturally I went to TikTok and scrolled for a while. I ended up down a path of spooky videos that had me on edge and jumpy and raised my anxiety. Of course it didn't help me fall back to sleep what so ever, so I figured after I almost jumped out of my skin when a shadow crossed my window I would channel all that fear into a poem. The first draft wasn't that bad, so I finessed it a bit this evening. I think it might be one of my favorites so far!

So, enjoy "Sons of Carman at Midnight". Don't forget to drop a link in the comment section to your poetry! Write something spooky!

Sons of Carmen at Midnight

Ames Pointer

Sleep evades me.
Cold air,
directly into my face
but my body runs hot.
Too scared of demons,
and monsters,
and ghosts,
to uncover.
What is on my mind?
Replayed scenes from a movie I've lived,
so the heroine gets out
before the bad stuff happens.
I daydream at night
of good things:
Only for my thoughts to be hijacked
and terrorized
into tales
of Dub,
and Dother,
and Dain.
Things that feel real to me
in that moment,
even if they aren’t.
Shadows scare me
outside of my window
What is looking in on me?
When the thing I should fear the most
is in my mind
and I can’t escape it,
but I’m used to it,
because it’s been there my whole life.
Anxiety tells me bad things are coming.
My ego tells me I'm not good enough.
Echoes scream I'm the problem.
Never ending cycles brought on by
a moment
a thought
a feeling that reminds me of a time
when I had no control
in whatever fashion.
But, thankfully,
they aren’t often, anymore.
Just usually when the moon is full,
or new.
Contrasting shades of dark and light
mirror my emotions
and exhaust me, periodically.
For now, I wait for sleep
until I'm heavy with fatigue
and hope my dreams are blank


(Ames Pointer) author poem poems poet poetry poets series spooky writer Mon, 25 Jan 2021 15:17:12 GMT