ANITA IN REFLECTION

Exercise: Warming The Stone Artist
The Ceremony of the Mirror
http://www.dailywriting.net/MirrorCeremony.htm
I asked myself, why write the things I write and I think I found my answer
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Mirror Mirror on the Wall
Who’s the fairest of them all?

Last weekend I went to a social event with my husband and a woman who’s leaned over my lap and stuck her elbow into my gut more then once so she could talk to my husband said to me as if she’d never seen me before, “ Hi, I’m…”

And I said, “ Actually we know each other.”

She looked right into my face and smiled and said, “ wow, you look so good this time I didn’t recognize you!”

Who’s the fairest of them all?
Not me Mirror, not me by a long shot.



I’ve never been attractive; I was the unattractive older sister to my brother and his Keanu Reeves type good looks and to my petite truly beautiful younger sister. In order to ‘help me’ my parents, assorted relatives and friends advised me to develop a talent or two as my face and body and lack of personality would do nothing to attract boyfriends, a husband or even friends.

I thought they were right because I didn’t have a single date in school. I went to my Senior Prom with my friend’s brother. He liked me I guess. I don’t know I couldn’t believe someone that cute and nice would date me.

So I figure he did it as a favor for his Sister.



In the end I decided to write horror stories and work with the dead.
It won’t make you a lot of friends and you don’t have much of a social life, but what the Hell. Its not like I lost anything by doing these things.

The only drawback, if you can call it that is that I always end up writing from the ‘other side’ I can tell you exactly what it’s like to be a cast out demon, a ghoul, a werewolf or other things of that nature. As the song goes, ‘I’ve been away to long’ and there’s no going back for me. Now days I’ve found that’s not so bad.

In the place I write from now my what my characters go through and experience matter to me. I care about them and I care about telling their stories. I want people to know what its like to exist outside of the box, what it’s like to live in those lost places most people find themselves in by accident. I want people to know what it’s like to stare into the face of the mob, how it feels to be shunned, what its like to know that you will never be the same as anyone, ever, no matter what you do.

Somewhere in my life I came to feel as if Werewolves, Witches, Witch Doctors, Vampires, Half-Breed Monsters, Ghouls, Demons, were created for the express purpose of just waiting for some empty headed chick with bleached blond hair, fake breasts and a nineteen inch waist to show up and do awful things to them. That they exist just so they could chased by guys with steroid enhanced muscles or lap top computers who would grab the nearest girl and kiss her or slap the closest behind and then push a button or pull a trigger and scatter the ‘monsters’ to the four winds.

That’s not like getting the short end of the stick. That’s like having someone take that short end, sharpening it and sticking it right into your heart.

I’m giving them a chance to survive, to have a place in the world even if it’s a make believe one. Everyone needs that. No matter how strange or odd or different you are.

I guess I’m really writing about me,
Anita Marie Moscoso
April 29, 2006