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Lindsey Altom
Bio
For me, writing runs in the blood. I've written songs, poems and short stories ever since I was a little girl. I mostly like to write about my life experiences mixed with a little fiction or just things that come off the top of my head!
Stories (70/0)
Pumpkintown. Content Warning.
I watched the rain beat against the car windshield in what sounded like buckets and buckets of rain. It was thundering and lightening as well and I had no idea where I was headed. I was trying my best to forget where I had just came from... looking to the steering wheel my hands were shaking...hard. He was dead of that much I was certain. I had checked his pulse and found none. They'd never find his body....and the blood had been cleaned. Cleansed by fire... I didn't know what else to do. He'd come at me so fast I had no other choice. They wouldn't believe me though, just like last time when they let him out of jail a day afterward. Okay, I thought,...time to get your thoughts together. No. There is no time to stop, no time to slow down, no time to think really. So, I decide to drive through the night and make turns and exits based solely off a whim. Somewhere around 3am my adrenaline fails me and I look for a place to pull off to get a little rest. I am so very tired. My hands are still covered in blood and there are scratches on my face. I have no idea where I'm going to go.... I have no family. I have no friends. He never let me have any of that. My father died when I was 2 and my mother lives in Iowa as far as I know but who knows who she's living with now. I'm never going back there. A glance in the passenger seat gives me slight comfort as I have the one thing he planned on using against me, his gun. Suddenly, I see a sign for a national park and I decide to pull in there. I pull my black 1990 VW beetle into the parking lot and park off towards the corner lot and park as far in the corner and in the shade and discreet as I can. I just hope and pray a park ranger doesn't notice or bother to check my plates. I just need a couple of hours sleep then I'll be on my way again. Just as suddenly as I pull into the space and put my beetle bug into park my eyes close. I wake to the sound of a sharp tapping against my driver's side window. My eyes, blurry with sleep, wake to see what I have hoped not to see... a park ranger with his flashlight tapping it against my window. I look at my hands with the dried blood and quickly pull my sleeves over my hands to cover them up. I turn over the engine of the bug, notice the time is now about 6am ("I really passed out." I think to myself.) and roll down the window. I try to look as innocent and calm as I can as I look into this ranger's eyes and say "Yes sir, can I help you?" He replies, "Yes ma'am you can't park here. I'm afraid you'll have to move." I look at the man with his deep ocean blue eyes and say "Of course, I knew better. I was just so tired. I'm sorry." He looks at me with his police eyes, scrutinizing everything I've just said and says " I understand. Where ya coming from? What's your name?" I realized that I'd have to give this man enough information to throw him off my case and make him think I'm not hiding anything but not enough to actually implicate myself in any way so I say, "Oh, a couple of states away, Tennessee actually. I was thinking of moving here or somewhere close by, thought I could just drive through the night but no such luck." I was a bit torn on what name to give him though as I didn't want to give him my real name because then he could track down who Michelle Stevens was and who I was married to and where oh where was my husband anyways? And why had I left a house burning on fire in the middle of the night so quickly so I said while hoping against hope that he wouldn't check my plates and who they were actually registered to,..."The name is Ramona Sanchez." I figured he could gather the information or perhaps already had of what state I had came from by my license plate so no sense lying about that and I was hoping that by telling the truth on that he wouldn't ask for anything further or verify the rest. I had always loved the name Ramona ever since reading a book about a character with the name years ago and Sanchez would fit me perfectly seeing as my father had been Mexican. The park ranger seemed somewhat pleased that I hadn't lied about the state and said "Well, this is a quiet little area. We like to keep it that way. Most of Tennessee is that way too though from what I hear. " I simply smiled and said, "Yes sir, it is." This seemed to satisfy his need for information from the woman sleeping in the parking lot of the national park so he simply said, "Well, I'll let you be on about your way." Quickly, I said "Thank you sir." and started to pull out as he headed back to his jeep. I drove for another 40 minutes to an hour... I knew I needed to get to a shower soon to get clean and change clothes. I had managed to grab some clothes before I left the house. I would need a new ID, a new backstory of my life...a job. My thoughts were everywhere but first things first... where to settle? I mean as far as I knew that park ranger hadn't ran my tags but what if he had? After about another hour, I suddenly came upon this small quaint town with a small wooden sign that announced it's establishment from the 1700's and the name of the town, Pumpkintown. There were beautiful mountain ranges beyond the town and the town was perfect and just what I needed. It was so small and discreet that I couldn't imagine anyone finding me here. There wasn't even a hotel in the actual town itself but I found by asking a local there was one in a town nearby so that is where I decided to stop and stay. It was called the Table Rock Inn and it too had been in business since the mid 1800's. This area was so fascinating with all it's history that despite my destress from the last few hours I couldn't help but be in aww as well. After checking in at the hotel I quickly went into my room and said a quick prayer that no one had noticed my scratched face or dried blood on my hands. I had managed to save back some money here and there for the last six months from my waitressing job that he barely let me have...but he did because it meant I could buy his beer and cigarettes sometimes when he had already wasted all his money. So, with that, I had enough to get by on for maybe a couple months or so but then I would need a job. I knew things were bad and I knew I needed to get out but I never imagined it would end this way. Part of me was hoping of course that he would just see the light and the error of his ways and realize that I was only ever trying to help him, not hurt him and then we could work together but that didn't ever pan out. Now, Marcus is....a memory flashes in my mind suddenly of him lying on the ground lifeless with a bullet through his side and then the dirt and rain...I look in the mirror in the hotel room bathroom and begin to vigorously wash my hands and face and arms then I strip down naked and climb into the shower. I turn the water on so hot its scolding. I don't care though as I probably deserve it after what I've done. I scrub with that hotel soap until I turn red then I sink to my knees and cry. I cry for what I've lost, I cry for what he's done to me, to us, I cry for what I've done, I cry so long I feel I've shed every part of who Michelle Stevens was and is and when I emerge from the shower I know it's time to turn into Ramona. This new life in Pumpkintown will be different. No more men, no more pain, no more Michelle. I'll never speak of her again. That life is dead now and Michelle is just as dead as Marcus.
By Lindsey Altom12 months ago in Fiction
The Soundtrack of my Life...
First up, would be LeAnn Womack's I Hope You Dance. I have a vauge memory of being in the car with my mother at some point in my tumultuous childhood and this song came on the radio and she looked at me and said "If I could dedicate one song to you and to all my girls(she had three daughters including me) it would be this song." My mother and I had a rocky relationship while I was growing up to say the least and it still is but after that statement I suppose I tried to see the beautiful parts of her. She loved us, she loved me and this song as beautiful as it is, is and was her way of saying that. All her hopes and dreams for me and my sisters wrapped up in a song.
By Lindsey Altomabout a year ago in Beat
The Train to Nowhere...
Lenora sipped her steaming hot coffee as she looked out the window of the train. She'd bought this ticket on a whim and wasn't sure where she was going as she'd blindly chosen where to go by pointing on a map. There was the most beautiful mountains in the distance and then suddenly she could see up ahead the tracks just seemed to stop...there was simply nothing there as far as the eye could see. Lenora didn't panic though as most would she just sat back and relaxed. After all, this was her "I'm just gonna catch a train day."
By Lindsey Altomabout a year ago in Fiction
Judging Eyes
The world was spinning...things did not make sense anymore. My head was a complete blur, my emotions a train wreck, I couldn't sort out what was up and what was down. I remember very little about being on these ADHD medications other than I did not feel like myself and I always felt trapped inside my own body, my own mind. Performing daily tasks that were expected of me like schoolwork and my household chores were excruciating because I could barely stay awake. All my brain wanted to do was shut down... I was overwhelmed and my brain was overloaded. My mother would later say that it was like looking at a zombie and at one point when she looked at me I just busted out crying for no particular reason at all. That's when she said she knew we needed to go to another doctor for yet another diagnoses. I suppose that was a good thing in the end because at least it meant I got off those dreadful ADHD medications they kept trying me on and each one making me more depressed than the one before it. So, we went to another doctor and I couldn't tell you his name only that he stared at me as he sat across from me while he spoke to my mother who sat to the left of me and they discussed me as if I were some science experiment to be examined and not a little girl sitting in the room with them. Oh sure, occasionally Dr. Whateverhisnamewas would ask me a question but the majority of his questions were directed towards my mother as if she knew more about me than me. However, I will say this by this point I was none too fond of speaking to doctors so perhaps this was for the best as well. However, I'll never forget his final diagnoses and how he came to this conclusion or at least one way he did. He glanced down his nose at me and peered through his glasses and since I felt as if I were a science experiment I, of course looked away and then he told my mother, "Look, see how she won't look at me directly in the eyes and she avoids eye contact? She most assuredly has Asperger syndrome." My head snapped up and I challenged that by looking at him directly however he did not seem to notice. I was put on a new medication that day for being mildly autistic. I felt intense shame, I thought something was wrong with me for having this what I viewed as a disease. For years, I would hide it and not tell a soul except those I got so close to in highschool that I viewed as family. I thought my ADHD and Asperger's syndrome were defects and it was not really explained to me that they are strengths instead. It was more of a here is our answer to what is wrong with you. This is why you struggle in school and why your pretty well too dumb to figure things out on your own so I put on a cloak of shame and pretended to be what my mother wanted me to be. I took her drugs she wanted me to take, I did the very best I could in school even though it still wasn't enough, I cleaned the whole house every week top to bottom because that is what was expected of me but she still came in every Thursday and informed me that I did not do things properly. I was told every Thursday that she would now have to redo the whole house because I couldn't just do things the right way the first time! Never an encouraging word did I get, never did she show me where I did things right but this is what I could do improve here... I could never please her. The times were different though right? It was the 90's. Critically judging your kids was just good parenting as it was what their parents did and their parents before them right? Well, why not guide and direct and give encouraging feedback where its deserved? When I was eleven my first sister came into this world and that began a whole new journey that I was not prepared for...
By Lindsey Altomabout a year ago in Families
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