musicmaker

United States

Christian/writer (obviously)/musician/
homeschooler/flibbertigibbet/sarcastic/
mischievous/talkative/all lives matter

Message from Writer

Hey y'all! So glad to be a part of this community! If you ever want me to review your writing, shoot me a comment and I'll see what I can do!

Published Work

Dear Child of Mine, about that heartache...

Dear Child of Mine,

About that heartache... I just want you to know that I know it hurts. I want you to know that I feel your pain. I want you to know that it doesn't bother me to hear your sorrow. I know the number of your tears. I don't turn away from your suffering.
I also know something else about you; I know that you feel guilty. I know that you feel guilty for not trusting me. But there is something you don't know:

It's okay.

Let that sink in.

It's okay.

You read your Bible and you think that because you don't trust me like I asked, that you are sinning. I guess that's partly true, but it's okay. I don't condemn you. I was human too. I've felt your pain.
I know your loved one has cancer. I know you lost a friend to COVID-19. I know you are being tormented by your own mind, I...

The Bible Challenge_musicmaker - Please read, no matter your religion

Says who?!

Who are you to tell me that?!

You're not my mom!

I'm an adult now! I can do what I want!

Y'all heard these phrases before? They hurt your ears like fingernails on a chalkboard. Don't you hate it when you tell someone something for their own good and they write it off as you being bossy? You can't blame them though; when someone says the same things to you, you have the same response. 

We all hate being told what we can and cannot do. It's just human nature. We like to assume that we are perfect and need no correction. And in all honesty, who's to say that we are wrong?

Seriously!

Think about it; y'all are smart. If there is no God, nothing is wrong. An all-powerful God is the only person that could say what's right and what's wrong. 

This is why people say "What's right for you is right for you, and what's...

Read the First Word of Every Second Line!

Away, out of place, in the most unlikely places, seem to be where all the greatest of treasures are found.
In caves, buried in the sand, at the bottom of the ocean, in safes, in old papers, or, even less noticeable: a baby's laugh
a mother's hug, the soft sounds of faint music. It's not new. It's happened for years. Treasures unnoticed, maybe, in a
manger, in a little town called Bethlehem, in what seemed like just another, ordinary baby? Was it ordinary?
No. There was nothing ordinary about it. The child of a virgin, born in a filthy stable, He didn't even have the luxury of a
crib. When Angels proclaim a child's birth, you know that nothing is normal. He had finally come and no one was ready
for Him. Everyone had waited for years for Him to come and conquer their enemies, the Messiah to come,
a mighty, victorious King that would save them! But He didn't...

Read the First Word of Every Second Line!

Away, out of place, in the most unlikely places, seem to be where all the greatest of treasures are found.
In caves, buried in the sand, at the bottom of the ocean, in safes, in old papers, or, even less noticeable: a baby's laugh
a mother's hug, the soft sounds of faint music. It's not new. It's happened for years. Treasures unnoticed, maybe, in a
manger, in a little town called Bethlehem, in what seemed like just another, ordinary baby? Was it ordinary?
No. There was nothing ordinary about it. The child of a virgin, born in a filthy stable, He didn't even have the luxury of a
crib. When Angels proclaim a child's birth, you know that nothing is normal. He had finally come and no one was ready
for Him. Everyone had waited for years for Him to come and conquer their enemies, the Messiah to come,
a mighty, victorious King that would save them! But He didn't...

Read the First Word of Every Second Line!

Away, out of place, in the most unlikely places, seem to be where all the greatest of treasures are found.
In caves, buried in the sand, at the bottom of the ocean, in safes, in old papers, or, even less noticeable: a baby's laugh
a mother's hug, the soft sounds of faint music. It's not new. It's happened for years. Treasures unnoticed, maybe, in a
manger, in a little town called Bethlehem, in what seemed like just another, ordinary baby? Was it ordinary?
No. There was nothing ordinary about it. The child of a virgin, born in a filthy stable, He didn't even have the luxury of a
crib. When Angels proclaim a child's birth, you know that nothing is normal. He had finally come and no one was ready
for Him. Everyone had waited for years for Him to come and conquer their enemies, the Messiah to come,
a mighty, victorious King that would save them! But He didn't...

Pandemic Memoir

My 2020

Eight
Months
Of
Growing
In
Christ

5 Great Pranks

#1. Put salt in someones water

#2. Mess with someone's "Text Replacement" on their phone.

#3. Put Ice cubes inside an upside-down glass and wait for them to melt.

#4. Tell people there are five great pranks and only put down four

5 Tips for Being Absentminded

#1. Start a lot of projects

#2. Never finish your

Novel Writing Competition 2020

The Real-Life Nightmare

    The familiar feeling of helplessness returned as I ran through the burning house and up the stairs, searching for any signs that the little girl might still be in here.
            “Victoria!” I yelled as loudly as my burning lungs permitted.
            “Help!” An tiny, almost inaudible voice croaked back. I ran for the room that the voice had come from. Placing my hand on the door, I pushed it open. I ran into the room to see the petite young girl shaking with fear as the sharp tips of the flames shot up like knives in the corners of the room.
            “Hi Victoria.” I said as soothingly as possible. “My name is Erica, I'm going to help you get out of here.” I tried to calm her though I was probably more terrified than she was.
            “I-I can't.” She replied, a constant stream of tears streaming down her face. “I'm stuck.” Only then did I...

5 Questions that DON'T Plague Today's Society

  1. If a person works at an Apple store, are they allowed to have a Microsoft computer?
  2. If you inflate a "flatfish" is it just called "fish"
  3. If a person who herds sheep is a Shepherd, a person who herds goats is a Goatherd, why isn't a person who herds cows called a cowherd?
  4. If a babysitter watches children, does a baby watcher sit on them?
  5. How come a golden retriever doesn't retrieve gold?

Novel Writing Competition 2020

The Real-Life Nightmare

 The familiar feeling of helplessness returned as I ran through the burning house. I ran up the stairs, searching for any signs that the little girl might still be in here.
            I reached the top of the stairs and ran quickly through the halls, checking room after room, in search of the child.
            “Victoria!” I yelled, as loudly as my burning lungs permitted.
            “Help!” I heard a hoarse voice croak back, barely loud enough to hear. I ran for the room from which the voice had come. Placing my hand on the door, I pushed it open. I ran into the room to see the young girl shaking with fear as the sharp tips of the flames shot up like knives. I closed the door behind me to prevent the flames from spreading quite as quickly.
            “Hi Victoria.” I said, as soothingly as possible. “My name is Erica. I'm going to help you get out of...

Novel Writing Competition 2020

The Real-Life Nightmare

 The familiar feeling of helplessness returned as I ran through the burning house. I ran up the stairs, searching for any signs that the little girl might still be in here.
            I reached the top of the stairs and ran quickly through the halls, checking room after room, in search of the child.
            “Victoria!” I yelled as loudly as my burning lungs permitted.
            “Help!” I heard a hoarse voice croak back, barely loud enough to hear. I ran for the room that the voice had come from. Placing my hand on the door, I pushed it open. I ran into the room to see the young girl shaking with fear as the sharp tips of the flames shot up like knives. I Closed the door behind me to prevent the flames from spreading quite as quickly.
            “Hi Victoria.” I said as soothingly as possible. “My name is Erica, I'm going to help you get out of...

Red and Yellow, Black and White...

I see so much in today's culture about racism. About Police, Black, White, whether we can distinguish. But I wonder.

The Protesters fighting for the BLM makes me wonder.

The people who look down upon persons who don't look the same. I wonder.

You don't know if I'm Black, White, or somewhere in between. You can guess but it doesn't matter. Do you wonder?

Religions fight about it. Religion-frees fight about it. They wonder.

But what's the difference? Why is this such a big deal?

Our blood is the same color even though our pigment is different.

We all live in the same world.

We all want justice.

We all want freedom.

We all want understanding.

We all want to be treated right.

Just because our pigments a little stronger or a little weaker gives no excuse to treat each other wrong. 

If you're black, treat whites the way you want to be treated.

If you're white, treat blacks the...

November Grab Bag

Oops! Never Doubt Your Aunt if She Claims to Be a Fairy/Write about a possum, living in an attic.

Dear Diary,

Well, here I am, in the attic. All I can think about is my crazy aunt. I don't know whether to think it's cool that she had the ability to turn me into a possum, or to be mad that she turned me into a possum. 

Note to Self: Never Doubt Your Aunt if She Claims to Be a Fairy

No one can really blame me though. I mean, who would believe anyone who claims to be a fairy?

But my real question is: why a possum? Why not a majestic horse? Why not a graceful fawn? Why not anything larger than a giant rodent?!

She told me that she would turn me back to a human tomorrow but I have to live the rest of the day and night as a possum. 

Kinda makes me respect the little critters. It takes a lot of effort to find enough food. I'm thankful to have this attic to live...

Novel Writing Competition 2020

The Real-Life Nightmare

The familiar feeling of helplessness returned as I ran through the burning house. I ran up the stairs, searching for any signs that the little girl might still be in here.
            I reached the top of the stairs and ran quickly through the halls, checking room after room, in search of the child.
            “Victoria!” I yelled as loudly as my burning lungs permitted.
            “Help!” I heard a hoarse voice croak back, barely loud enough to hear. I ran for the room that the voice had come from. Placing my hand on the door, I pushed it open. I ran into the room to see the young girl shaking with fear as the sharp tips of the flames shot up like knives. I Closed the door behind me to prevent the flames from spreading quite as quickly.
            “Hi Victoria.” I said as soothingly as possible. “My name is Erica, I'm going to help you get out of...

Hateful Christians

This piece is mainly directed at Christians. Everyone else can just sit back, nod their heads, and judge Christians for being judgmental. ;-)
                I’ve heard story after story of how people hate Christians because they felt so judged and hated for what they’ve done, how they thought, who they were, or what they looked like. It makes me sick! So I thought I’d make a little comparison in the form of some modern day parables. I know this isn’t typical but how about two parables, same scenario, different reactions, and I’ll top it off with the standard set by the dude Christians claim to follow. Just hang with me.
Reaction #1
I didn’t know why I was there; I didn’t belong. Looking up at the towering steeple and watching people quietly file through the double doors, Bibles held ritually at their sides. I made sure my long sleeves were pulled down to my wrists and then shoved my hands...

Historical Fiction Competition 2020

Sacrifice/Review for Review?

    It was nothing like I’d expected. There were no huge pipes with bubbling blue liquid. There were no flashing lights or whirling noises. I guess it was pretty much the opposite of what I’d imagined. But my envisionment hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary. I can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t think of a blue or purple vortex or something equally as bizarre when they heard the words “Time Machine”. But it was nothing fantastic, just a rusty old arcade game sitting in the corner of the arcade’s basement. I wanted to support my dad’s inventions like I always had, but somehow, a video game was even more daunting then a swirling wormhole.
    “What am I supposed to do exactly?” I asked, a bit nervous.
    “Just put the headset on and I’ll program in the time-frame and area you want. Remember, you will be able to talk to anyone and go anywhere but nothing you do will affect history...

Historical Fiction Competition 2020

Sacrifice/Review for Review?

    It was nothing like I’d expected. There were no huge pipes with bubbling blue liquid. There were no flashing lights or whirling noises. I guess it was pretty much the opposite of what I’d imagined. But my envisionment hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary. I can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t think of a blue or purple vortex or something equally as bizarre when they heard the words “Time Machine”. But it was nothing fantastic, just a rusty old arcade game sitting in the corner of the arcade’s basement. I wanted to support my dad’s inventions like I always had, but somehow, a video game was even more daunting then a swirling wormhole.
    “What am I supposed to do exactly?” I asked, a bit nervous.
    “Just put the headset on and I’ll program in the time-frame and area you want. Remember, you will be able to talk to anyone and go anywhere but nothing you do will affect history...

Historical Fiction Competition 2020

Sacrifice/Review for Review?

    It was nothing like I’d expected. There were no huge pipes with bubbling blue liquid. There were no flashing lights or whirling noises. I guess it was pretty much the opposite of what I’d imagined. But my envisionment hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary. I can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t think of a blue or purple vortex or something equally as bizarre when they heard the words “Time Machine”. But it was nothing fantastic, just a rusty old arcade game sitting in the corner of the arcade’s basement. I wanted to support my dad’s inventions like I always had, but somehow, a video game was even more daunting then a swirling wormhole.
    “What am I supposed to do exactly?” I asked, a bit nervous.
    “Just put the headset on and I’ll program in the time-frame and area you want. Remember, you will be able to talk to anyone and go anywhere but nothing you do will affect history...

Peeling Garlic Cloves

How satisfying... *sigh*

Something about it...

I love to peel garlic. 

I love to watch each layer of papery shell fall to the ground like a feather.

I love to watch the bulb of garlic shrink as the skin flakes off.

I can squeeze it,

I can crush it,

I can dig my nail into it,

Yet it never seems to give in.

The hard cloves inside their shell push back in resistance to the pressure surrounding it.

When the skin around it breaks,

The smell of garlic fills the air.

It makes my hands sticky,

But it's a good kind of sticky.

Ahh how I love to peel garlic cloves...

 

Erica Jennings, KPD Chapter 1 (well, part of it. Any ideas?)

    Smoke, all I could smell was smoke. It burned my nose and throat. My head and heart pounded in rhythm just like it did so many years before. My eyes glazed over as I stared at the black and white papers that had thrown me 18 years into the past. The bright flames blinded me as I ran through the burning halls. I shook my head, trying to erase the 4D memories. It didn’t work. The tears streaming down my face quickly evaporated in the heat. I called for my parents… Cold water shocked me out of my flashback and I found myself standing over the sink of the bathroom, splashing water on my face. I leaned on the sink, trying to get a grip on my emotions. I ran my fingers through my dark, wavy hair, and looked in the mirror at my pale, wet face. I took a deep breath, straightened up and dried my face, determined to...

A Dozen Surprises/A Shout-Out to Everyone Who Has Supported My Writing

Wow! I logged on this morning to:

A dozen surprises!
A dozen people who read my writing,
A dozen people who took the time to click that little star,
A dozen friends showing me support,
A dozen thank you's to all of you.
A dozen shoutouts to everyone who took the time to read and comment on my writing, you know who you are!

Specific shoutouts to:

Emi - My first follower. Thank you for encouraging me from the start. 

Rohan's Defender - The next of my followers, your support encouraged me to keep going.

And SavannaC - For encouraging me through her own writing by showing me that I'm not the only one writing for God.


 

Once Upon A Couple Years Ago

Once upon a couple years ago:

1. We could get within 6 feet of each other
2. Social distancing was not a thing
3. Masks were only worn by a few occupations 
4. You could be in a crowd without the fear of sickness
5. There was actually something to do everyday

But...

Once upon a couple years ago:

1. Our families weren't together as much
2. We were all too busy to notice the little blessings
3. We almost never took time to rest
4. No one ever gave a compliment like: "Oh, cute mask!"
5. We never had so much opportunity to show love to others

My Religion; What if I'm Wrong?!

I’ve been a Christian since I was young.  
My belief is on what my actions have hung. 
But even though my belief is strong; 
Sometimes I wonder, what if I’m wrong?
If my belief system has been a lie,
What will happen when I die?
Is there life after my death;
Or is there a truly final breath?

If I am wrong what will I lose?
Is there a new religion I should choose?
Do they have something not found here;
Or is there simply no answer?
Then I sit and think things through 
And things begin to come into view. 
I start to see in a different light
And suddenly I know what’s right. 

Suppose I left my faith behind 
And followed one of a different kind?
Where being good would merit favor,
And working hard would be my savior. 
But how good would I have to be;
For a God that’s perfect and holy?
I guess I'd...

Narrow, the Path That Leads to Life, Part II

    My mind was made up and I couldn't hesitate any longer. As people poured onto the wild trail to my left, excited for the luxuries that would follow them until they reached the end of the trail, I surged ahead, turning to the right and squeezing through the tiny gate that lead to the path of hardship and turmoil. Only the bravest followed this trail, pushing on to reach their eternal reward when they finally reached the end. There was no turning back now. I knew the rest of my journey would be marked with pain and sorrow. I could hear voices mocking me from the other path. They jeered at me from their glamorous mansions and threw insults from their feasting tables, but I knew I couldn't change my mind.
    I raised my head and turned my eyes to the distant hill where the glorious city, my destination, laid in wait for me. I could barely see it for...

Narrow, the Path That Leads to Life

I'd never been so hesitant as at this moment. Both options seemed promising. Droves of people bumped into me as they passed on my left, shoving to get ahead, crowding through the large, beautiful gates that led to a long, wide path with towers and luxuries beyond description. But, at the end of the trail was a dark abyss from which came unearthly wails that shot chills throughout my body. The trail to my right was small and rugged; a few people passed beside me, filing determinedly through the narrow entrance to began their arduous trek through the crags, gullies, and merciless cliffs. The trail seemed daunting, but at the end could be seen a light brighter than any ever seen. It seemed holy... sacred. But was it worth the treacherous journey required to obtain it? The pull to both paths was so strong but I couldn't put off the decision any longer. I took a breath, and made my...

Erica Jennings, KPD Prologue

People love heroes. Invincible, indestructible, heroes. Men and women who show up in a time of need and do what no one ever thought possible. The whole world longs for salvation from hassles, denying reality for the luxury of a fantasy. They never completely grow out of the fairy tales they’ve grown up hearing. But when real heroes arrive, police officers, fire men, doctors, and soldiers, those who dedicate and even sacrifice their lives to serve other people, including those who hate them, then we are ignored. When we do our jobs, the world simply shrugs and says we’re just doing what we’re paid to do. But when something goes wrong, we are battered with a barrage of angry words, riots, complaints, lawsuits, and even physical violence. The world calls out for heroes, but when we come, they walk by without a second glance. The minds of men and woman depict heroes as supernatural and flawless, brushing aside anyone outside...

Refuge

My Refuge

Refuge is the place I can run when my world caves in, a stronghold in trouble, a place of peace and comfort. Safety is found in a place of refuge. How would I describe my place of refuge? When everything crashes down, they hold me. When my burdens are too much, they lift the load off my back. When I am tired, they are where I lay my head. When pain and sorrow overwhelm me, they hug me tighter in silent comfort. I will forever be thankful for my place of refuge, my mother's arms.

Dust Jacket

Me and My Writing in a Nutshell

Hi All! Here are some casual answers to the questions of this prompt. Love to hear from y'all. What do we have in common?

What is your favorite genre to write? 
I love writing fiction, comedy, mystery, and emotional, thought provoking paragraphs

What is your favorite genre to read? 
Mystery 

What draws you to the WtW community? 
There are a lot of people like me, doing what I like to do, and helping each other do it... and it's free

What do you find most challenging about writing?
Putting emotion into words that will create the same emotion in the reader.

Most exhilarating?  
Watching people laugh or cry at my writing.

What is one goal that you have for yourself while here? 
Improve my writing, get people to enjoy my writing.

Dust Jacket

Me and My Writing in a Nutshell

Hi All! Here are some casual answers to the questions of this prompt. Love to hear from y'all. What do we have in common?

What is your favorite genre to write? 
I love writing fiction, comedy, mystery, and emotional, thought provoking paragraphs

What is your favorite genre to read? 
Mysterys 

What draws you to the WtW community? 
There are a lot of people like me, doing what I like to do, and helping each other do it... and it's free

What do you find most challenging about writing?
Putting emotion into words that will create the same emotion in the reader.

Most exhilarating?  
Watching people laugh or cry at my writing.

What is one goal that you have for yourself while here? 
Improve my writing, get people to enjoy my writing.

Narrow, the Path That Leads to Life

I'd never been so hesitant as at this moment. Both options seemed promising. Droves of people bumped into me as they passed on my left, shoving to get ahead, crowding through the large, beautiful gates that led to a long, wide path with towers and luxuries beyond description. But, at the end of the trail was a dark abyss from which came unearthly wails that shot chills throughout my body. The trail to my right was small and rugged, a few people passed beside me, filing determinedly through the narrow entrance to began their arduous trek through the crags, gullies, and merciless cliffs. The trail seemed daunting, but at the end could be seen a light brighter than any ever seen. It seemed holy... sacred. But was it worth the treacherous journey required to obtain it? The pull to both paths was so strong but I couldn't put off the decision any longer. I took a breath, and made my...