Tag Archives: Short stories

Who Am I


Who Am I

Am I a hater, some would have you think so.
Am I a dictator, I don’t see anyone wanting to follow or believe me.
Am I short, yes, but my temper has dropped.
Am I remorseful, we are not perfect.
Am I a savior, most believe there is only one of those.
Am I insane, only in the eyes of the beholder.
Am I stupid, I believe everyone has good intentions.
Am I a communicator, that is up for debate.
Am I a recycler, all good thoughts and blessings need repetition.
Am I fearful, this controls my actions more than anything else.
Am I depressed, I do have hope.
Am I living, here’s the written proof.
Am I realistic, just the facts.
Am I funny, many find me quite amusing.
Am I a dreamer, everyone has desires.
Am I a worker, when I know somebody positively benefits without greed.
Am I a woman, with all the working parts.
Am I pretty, 10’s are overrated.
Am I a loner, more times than I wish.
Am I a friend, I am already yours.
Am I a lover, of all things, yes, romantically, not at the moment.
Am I a partner, what did you have in mind?
Am I patient, I have waited a long time for many things.
Am I rich, I have a bountiful heart.
Am I good, that is my goal everyday.
Am I thankful, for all of you.
Am I proud, of who I am.

-Jennie Nawrocki

For years this was posted as the about page for Jennie Nawrocki but now we are changing into a nonprofit and soon the poetry and other artwork here will be by more than just Jennie Nawrocki.

So if you are a person with a disability or knows a person with a disability who writes, draws, sculpts, sees, acts, or plays, sing and composes music email us at Jennie.nawrocki@penaugural.com and we may publish and or sell your artwork here.

Don’t be shy you have seen some of my poetry though we do reserve the right based on hateful and inappropriate content not to publish your work.

Looking forward to expanding our author base soon.



Once the cake had been served now was the time of the evening where everyone was filled with sugar compounded with numerous drinks of alcohol, that some had been enjoying since the early afternoon.  Not being much of a drinker, she got a thrill and countless internal chuckles watching the awkward interactions unfold around her.  This eased the flow of her mood throughout the party as she was encountered with each blow delivered during each conversation.

First, it was her sister, “look at those shoes, I told you should buy some new ones those big honkers make you look like a man and you should dress a little better show off some of this bod you have.”

Then it was her friend “Why haven’t you called me, I called you.”

“I was out of town, remember?” Amber said knowing she knew she was out of town but went through the routine anyway.

“Yeah, I know, I just miss you when you are gone, you don’t ever seem to be around.”  Replying with a half-smile, though not really meaning it.

“What about this week, I am free all week, oh sorry I can’t how about on the 14th

Amber looks blankly at her as she says this date almost 2 full weeks away and replies with a hopefully gesture of understanding her choices. “That is when I am going to Philly, though I am free the following week.”

“I wish you could get together on the 14th that is really the only day I am available.”  Her friend says pleadingly.

Without saying anything Amber thinks, and they say I am the one who is inflexible.  Seeing that they have gotten nowhere and know they will go nowhere with this, Amber grabs her hand as a way to diverge the topic from the usual dancing of dates and show that she is interested in her friend as a friend, so they find a place to sit down to talk.  Instead of sitting together her friend changes who is leading and they find this guy, she clearly would have no interest in.

He was at most in his early 20’s a boy really maybe late 20’s, 26, 27 but couldn’t be older than that a baby really and not her type in the least.  A set up that happens at almost every gathering where she is expected to hook up with him and eventually they will marry.  It made her sick that this was their choice today and everyday they played matchmaker.

As usual he was probably a decent person but was way too young though, better than the beer belly stench ridden person in their forty’s, their last bit of bait for her, or how about the garbage man in his 60’s who turned out to be an alcoholic.  Really searching the bottom of the barrel for her perfect guy.  To be nice she had dates with them all, to show she would go along and at least try and also show she wasn’t playing hard to get, picky Victoria, or unreasonable social recluse.  Each one always turning out to be failures completely, not only that she felt horrible doing it because she knew she wouldn’t have gone out with any of them in the first place if it wasn’t for their pressure to settle her down.

They were on a roll tonight, so far the way I dress, my job, dating, what was next, just then she knew she didn’t have to ask because here were her parents coming as a pair, all smiles.

“I thought you were going to get that new car”, my mother starts the conversation.

“I like the my car.”  Knowing this is the same conversation they have had pretty much since she bought her used Ford Aspire a few years ago.

“Didn’t the tire blow last week?”  Dad chimes in, using his man to man talking voice.

“Yes, there was a tire that popped, though I was able to fix that.”  She replied happily.

“Really that is the 4th problem you have had with it this month.”  Already almost exasperated, her mother says with a slightly raise tone.

“It will have to wait I can’t afford a new car and really I prefer the car I have.”  Trying to ease the conversation anyway she can she just replies cheerfully.

“I thought you were making good money?” in that demanding, I am disappointed in you tone, my mother speaks clearly.

Still being cheerful Amber replies, “Yes, I am but I still have many financial responsibilities.”

“You know you could live by us it is cheaper and we could help you.”  Dad says hopefully.

“I know but I like where I live.”  Firm and generally happy about her response, for the evening was well rounded now, there wasn’t one subject left uncovered.

She wanted to find a way to stop the questioning, the interrogation of the FBI as she referred to it.  It wasn’t actually the Federal Bureau of Investigation, even though it had the same initials, to her it stood for the Family Badger Inquisitions.  Something she avoided when she could.  Knowing though she couldn’t leave the party early, for if she did, she wasn’t spending quality time with the family or was being a baby.  As a result, she just looked for another out, just a way to be free, a break, until the inevitable next set of questions.  She simply told her parents that she left her drink outside and wanted to go get it and left.

Walking back outside she saw the guy with whom she had helped rescue the birdie.  He was tall though not too tall.  What is tall for a guy anyway, her mind wandered 6 feet, just past 6 feet what was it, when does the general population start thinking a man is tall?  Anyways he had a slender, sturdy build.  Dressed decent not over the top but not scruffy either.  Strange how he could look elegant even though his clothes were well worn.  He had resumed playing the game, there was quite a bit of people she didn’t know playing badminton her sister or Jimmy must have joined a new club or something.  That was the last she remembered of him until today here at her presentation gazing right at her.

An Encounter


It’s late at night in the middle of downtown. Bricks reflect the wet of the ceased rain aided from the permanent illuminance of the street lamps along side the building names. I find a dry spot just atop “blank was here” where I am thankful to rest. Inhaling deep breaths glad to be starting the final piece of my waking day. What do I have left to do, I must check my phone. I check all my network sites without emotion, just to put it away to wait for the next bus. Covering my legs I look over at the people standing, seeing a woman handing out material to people with them avoiding her as though she had the bird flu or worse yet wasn’t pc.

She was running out of time.

She soon would be coming my way. I check my phone only for the time, hoping that I wouldn’t face an encounter also. A bus came providing a mere hour before even the first person could request a stop. Swarming to get the best seat just to breathe. It is all empty now, just me a few other people and her. It was going to happen, bound to happen.

She was running out of time.

Debating ipod on or off, I should make a phone call so off but it is frigid the gloves must stay on to feel even a slight warmth. Then it happens as I look down at the brick multiplying my feet, I see Jesus saves us because Armageddon is coming, you must prepare, you must know. She is happy I talk with her, even smile in her direction. She sets down her torn bag, crouched to sit, to breathe but didn’t. I didn’t want her to either but then I saw, this elderly woman in what seem to be the last of her very tender years of pain and distraught. She had only an underbite full of darken, pointed almost wooden teeth. Grey hair poking out of a beanie cap, those beautiful cat eye glasses. Wearing a plaid charcoal coat covering the pleated shirt without straight lines ending with frayed edges towards her black tights and nursing shoes. I started to melt with empathy, she wasn’t going to hurt me, I misjudged, she only wanted the same thing I did to sit and breathe.

She was running out of time.

Pulling out her vintage bible trusting me to hold her most precious piece “read” I read allowed the verse she pointed to with confidence. It was written partially in Hebrew, the words were Hebrew within the bible, huh I don’t understand. Helping me pronounce the passage, she says it is coming Armageddon, Armageddon be prepared. What shocked me was that was, she left, gathered up her stuff and left. Walking away less than a step at a time towards the next person, please someone listen to her. The next person will, probably thinking I must get the word out.

She was running out of time.

I watched her struggling to walk, thinking how her day must look, Where she will go? What does she do? Was she happy? She seemed happy, but all the people that shame her everyday. I thought what could I do to help people like her? Why was I so cautious? She only wanted to talk, she only wanted.

She was running out of time.

Skimming the mini booklets. Jehovah’s Witnesses wanted, needed people to follow the greatest man, Lord for he will come and bring Armageddon. Folding the newspaper of a book, I could only think, how can she throw her life away to do this, just this? She looks as though a month spent in a hospital would only be the beginning of her recovery. If I throw away the words, will I disrespect her? or Do I disrespect myself by believing any of it? She is just a loon, this material is debunk, complete fooey? I couldn’t decide? Others would have had no second guesses but me, I am different? I can’t decide?

I am running out of time.

The bus comes, I take one last breath and board the bus just as I do, letting the papers fall in the trash. It seemed so easy,. Hopefully she didn’t notice, hopefully she didn’t see. She gave with love and I just threw it away to move on with my day. Although why did I feel so guilty?

I chose how to spend my time.

PS this is a true story, no parts are fictionalized or meant to represent anything else.

-Jennie Nawrocki