Share Your Confidence

When's the last time you held something up to the world and said:

"Hey look at this! It's something I did and it is awesome and I am proud of it!"

Did you make a face thinking about it?

Why is that? What is so unappealing about doing this?

Why are we so afraid to be proud of ourselves?

So afraid to share our confidence?

Why can't we just hold up this sign?

I have an idea to help more people be able to share their confidence, but I'm going to need your help!!

I know all of you have something incredible that you have done or created or are working on, and I want you to SHARE IT!

Here's what to do:

1) Post a video or picture or slideshow or word document or status or anything else you can think of that shares something you're proud of.

It could be anything! Maybe you've been focusing on getting healthy and fit and you want to share your progress. Maybe you painted something you're proud of or you can sing or play an instrument or compose music or parry three moves in a row on Street Fighter or do super realistic special effects makeup or do a backflip or throw an epic chicken wing in ultimate or put together really cute outfits or do funny animal noise impressions. ANYTHING GOES!!

2) Use the hashtag #ShareYourConfidence and make sure the post is public so I can see it! (Or you can DM or e-mail or text it to me!)

Multiple entries are allowed! Anything posted between the time of this post and 11:59 MST on Tuesday, May 3 is considered for the prizes!

3) Show your support by liking or sharing posts with #ShareYourConfidence!

Winners will be determined by factors such as originality, expression, and positive message, not the number of likes or shares, but this will help spread the word and continue to Share the Confidence!

4) Challenge friends and family and coworkers and the whole world to jump in!

Let's help everyone get past that aversion to tooting our own horn! Let's give everyone the opportunity to Share Their Confidence!!

Winners will be revealed next week in my next blog post! There will be 3 winners chosen, each of which will get a gift card to a place of their choice that will help them continue to develop their confidence in the skill/goal/practice they shared!

So get going! Start sharing YOUR confidence with the world!

I'm going to kick off this week of Sharing Our Confidence by posting a short story I wrote! I really want to become a published author someday, and while this story is pretty different from the novel I'm working on, I still had so much fun writing it and am proud of it, so enjoy!

Avenging Gotham

You’ve probably never flown with a vampire before, so let me take a minute to describe it for you. Picture being on a roller coaster, the kind that steals the breath right out of your lungs. Now picture that feeling halfway between waking and sleeping. It’s kind of like that, but with your state of being. You are someplace not quite in existence, part flesh and part shadow, like tangible smoke. And you are soaring through the sky, so fast the stars blur.

It’s the best feeling in the world, better than the first bite of the triple bacon burger at Buzz’s Diner, better than waking up and realizing you have two more hours to sleep, better than that first crisp smell of fall.

Vlad took me flying for our first date. Well, it didn’t start as a date. I volunteer at the blood bank, and one night I was bringing new bags to the storage room when I caught Vlad stealing some. Once I realized what he was, I probably should have run off screaming or something, but I’ve always had a natural dark curiosity. We got talking, he took me for a fly around downtown, and the rest is history.

Tonight is our six month anniversary. My parents are gone on a week-long trip to Seattle and I’ve made steak and mashed potatoes, his favorite. Yes, vampires eat real food, not just blood. I’m just pouring the water when I hear him knock. I glance outside, where the sun has just disappeared beneath the horizon. On time, as always.

Gotham, my cat, streaks to the door, where he plants himself on the mat and hisses. He’s never liked Vlad. Maybe cats just don’t like the smell of the undead or something. I open the door, and Vlad grins at me, flashing his fangs. Gotham hisses louder, and Vlad’s smile crinkles into a look of annoyance.

“Can’t you just leave him in your room tonight?” Vlad asks. He is, if possible, less fond of Gotham than Gotham is of him.

“He’s not doing you any harm,” I say, scooping my cat into my arms and dropping him at his food dish.

“Hey, Ashley?” Vlad calls from the front porch.

Shoot. You’d think after six months I would remember.

“Sorry! Come on in!” I call over my shoulder.

Vlad enters and joins me at the table. He pulls out my chair for me and we dig in. He makes me laugh, compliments my cooking, and tells me I’m more beautiful than a Transylvanian sunset. Everything is going perfectly.

Then, a hiss comes from under the table. I feel something dart past my legs. Vlad jumps in his chair and I duck my head to see Gotham tearing into Vlad’s legs with his claws. Why my cat is so set against my boyfriend, I have no idea.

“Gotham, st—” My reprimand is cut off as I see a pale hand grasp Gotham, whipping him up and out of sight. Gotham makes a sound I have never heard before, something like when he starts to hack up a hairball, but the sound stops halfway through, replaced with a gruesome sucking noise.

                I freeze.

He. Did. Not.

                I slowly emerge from under the table. Vlad is even paler than usual, his eyes wide with realization and horror, his hands frozen around Gotham, who hangs limp from Vlad’s mouth.

                “You. Killed. My. CAT?!” I’m on my feet, my chair on the floor. Vlad drops Gotham, who lands right on top of the mashed potatoes.

                “I didn’t…he was…it was an accident,” Vlad stammers.

                “You keep your fangs to yourself around me just fine!” I yell, in his face now. I notice a bit of blood, Gotham’s blood, in the corner of his mouth and let the sight of it fuel the rage rolling through my body.

                “But I love you!” Vlad is out of his chair now, backing away from me, towards the door. “I never even liked that cat of yours, so how could you expect me to—“

                “GET OUT!” My hands shake. Man, if I had a wooden stake right now… Vlad must see the murder in my eyes because he transforms into a bat and crashes through the window, out into the night.

                “THANKS FOR BREAKING THE WINDOW TOO, YOU INCONSIDERATE CORPSE!” I shriek into the darkness. I watch his tiny shape until it vanishes. Oh, he is going to pay for this. That boy is going to wish he was never reborn.

                The next day, I finalize my plans and gather supplies. I can feel the corners of my mouth twitch up as I tape plastic wrap over the window, but I force them downward. No. There can be no sentiment in my heart if I’m going to go through with this. I put on my newest purchase and wait until sundown.

                Sure enough, as soon as the sun disappears behind the mountains, I hear a timid knock at the door. Let Operation Avenge Gotham commence. I plaster on a sticky-sweet smile and open the door. Vlad is standing on the porch with lilies, my favorite flower, and the most pitiful look on his face that I’ve ever seen. It almost weakens my resolve, but the little mound by the tree in the front yard makes me stick out my chest instead, exposing my new necklace.

                “Hey, Ashley, I just want to ARGHRH,” Vlad jumps back about ten feet, sending flower petals scattering.

                “What’s the matter, honey?” I ask, toying with the giant cross around my neck. I step out onto the porch and he shifts farther backwards, into the grass.

                “Can’t we talk about this?” Vlad asks.

                I scoop the now-slightly-bald flowers up from the porch and slam the door behind me in response.

                I’ll give him one thing, Vlad’s not a quitter. I guess living for three hundred years gives you some skills in patience and perseverance. His gentle persistence is one of the things I love most about him. No, wait. I don’t love anything about the murderer of my cat.

                The knock comes again the next night, this time a little more sure. Maybe he’s hoping yesterday was enough time for me to stew. He looks relieved when I open the door, my neck cross-free.

                “Hon, let’s talk this over. Let’s go have dinner. I’m so so sorry about Gotham.” Vlad wrings his pale hands. I smile a wicked smile.

                “Actually, I made dinner tonight,” I say. “Do you want to stay and eat here? You’re free to come in.”

                Vlad looks shocked, but nods enthusiastically. He walks into the house and his smile drops as he gets a whiff of the air.

                “Ashley.”

                “What?” I ask innocently, turning to the table. “You don’t like my cooking?”

                Vlad scowls from the doormat as he takes in each dish: garlic bread, potatoes with garlic and herbs, and garlic chicken pizza.

                “Ashley,” he says again, his voice flatter than his slicked back hair.

                I sit at the table and look at Vlad expectantly. “Aren’t you going to join me, dear?” I ask, fluttering my eyelashes.

                Vlad huffs a deep breath, but doesn’t leave or say anything. I shrug and begin to eat. He stands there watching from the doormat. I can already see hives forming on his pale arms. My heart twinges at the sight of him in pain, but I force myself to chew each bite with vigor until my stomach is stretched beyond capacity.

                When Vlad finally leaves (he had started wheezing, and his hives had spread to his whole body), I feel awful, and not just from my garlic binge. The sound of the door shutting reverberates through me, bouncing off my insides in a way that makes me feel hollow, despite my stuffed stomach. I try to summon the memory of Gotham’s body falling into the mashed potatoes as a reminder of the lesson Vlad needs to learn, but that idea kind of backfires.

                I barf all over the table.

                Vlad has always been good at follow through, something I’ve been counting on for phase three of Operation Avenge Gotham. So I’m not surprised when he shows up the next night with tickets to the local carnival, a date night we’d planned a month ago.

                I leave the house with him, but don’t hold his hand. Instead, I fold my arms across my chest and glare at Gotham’s grave as we pass. I know we’ll be flying, so I try to be as stiff as possible as I wrap my arms around Vlad’s neck. He scoops me up in his arms and kisses my forehead quickly. My heart flutters, and I desperately try to remember how mad I am. I manage to recompose my stony expression, but can’t help breathing in his scent as we take off into the night.

As we fly towards the fair, I can feel my heart being tugged in two directions. Part of me is still so angry. But the other part of me wants to just keep flying in Vlad’s arms forever. By the time we touch down outside of the carnival, I am considering forgiving him then and there.

But then a black cat crosses our path, and I think of Gotham, who was my buddy during late study nights, who made me laugh on hard days, who is now resting in the ground, two fang marks in his neck. Anger sufficiently rekindled, I grab Vlad’s hand and pull him to the entrance.

“Come on, babe,” I say, “I know just where to go.”

Half an hour later, I am still in the hall of mirrors, and Vlad is following, stopping every so often to sigh or shake his head in frustration. I wander in and out of my own reflections. It’s easier to ignore Vlad when I can’t see him.

Vlad doesn’t talk to me for the rest of the night, leaving my doorstep in silence and immediately transforming to fly off. I wait for the satisfaction of my revenge to hit, but it doesn’t. I trudge upstairs to my room, surprised that the tears pricking my eyes have nothing to do with Gotham.

I collapse onto my bed, still dressed, and am asleep instantly, my last conscious thought the memory of Vlad’s kiss on my forehead.

I wake up in the late afternoon. I shower and get dressed mechanically, then slump downstairs. The sun is already setting, and I sit in front of the door, waiting. I am out of ideas for revenge, and the anger that has fueled me the past few days has fizzled out. I still miss Gotham, but I miss Vlad more. When he comes tonight, I’ll tell him I’m sorry, that I’ve forgiven him.

The sun slips lower in the sky. I wait for his always-punctual knock, ready to tell him that it’s okay, I’m not angry anymore.

But the knock doesn’t come.

I wait and wait. My stomach twists into a knot and my limbs feel heavy. What if I took it too far? What if he’s gone for good? My hips start to hurt from sitting on the hard tile for so long. What if he decided I’m more trouble than I’m worth?

What if I never see him again?

And right there, a hole punches through my stomach, deeper than any ache caused by losing Gotham.

But he has to come. He has to. I have to tell him I’m sorry.

Another hour passes. And another.

My eyes flicker open. My head is pounding, my joints throbbing from falling asleep in such an awkward position. The sound that had woken me comes again.

A soft knock.

I scramble to my feet and lurch the door open. There stands Vlad, his dark eyes locked on mine.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he says. “I wanted to find one that looked as much like Gotham as possible.”

He raises his hands, which hold the tiniest black kitten I’ve ever seen.

All pride and stubbornness forgotten, I throw myself at Vlad. He dexterously shifts the kitten to one hand, catching me in his other arm.

“I’m sorry,” I say into his chest, and suddenly I’m blubbering. “I’m sorry about the cross, and the garlic, and the mirrors, and of course I love you more than my cat, and –”

Vlad interrupts me with a kiss that leaves me twice as breathless as flying.

The kitten mews, a tiny sound, and we both look at it. It gazes back with wide green eyes.

“What are you going to name it?” Vlad asks me.

I smile.               

“I’m thinking Drac.”