Anthology Shorts & Poems

By She She Ruley

It is a series of quaint shorts. That relates to so many people. It’s everyday life of people that has normal regular lives.

The poems are just as realistic as the shorts. Giving food for thoughts. Itcan help some people understand themselves and other’s.

I hope you enjoy it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: May 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9781665760669

She She Ruley

I born, Sheila Anne Crump in the Southwest side of Philadelphia PA on May 28, 1970. I attended and graduated in the public school system. I have worked in the health field for 30 years. I’m a widow twice and have 5 children Deneesha S. Crump, Kayla S. Brown, Myia S. Ruley, Meia S. Ruley and Christopher J. Crump.

Book preview

THE TASK

I just had one damn thing to do. That’s all and I couldn’t even do it. I had promised my sister that I would go and house sit for two days.

I went to her home finally after being welched. I ripped the streets up trying to go feed the plants and that cat.

When I arrived at 3535 Summerset Drive. I expected to see Snookum’s at the window. She loves the window, I got scared. When I opened the door, I could see her tail. It was sticking out from a huge box in the dining room.

At first, I thought that she was just asleep. As I called out Snookum’s name, she didn’t move. I slowly drew closer to her still calling her name. Still no movement, no meowing...nothing.

Auhhh! I screamed, I couldn’t believe it. I forgot to come and feed the cat. Now she’s dead and it’s all my fault. Roselle is gonna kill me and the plants. Well looks like they were in the desert.

I’m scrambling to pick up the dead cat and place her into the box. I finally stopped being so squeamish and got the lifeless body in the box. I then took, Snookums outside in the backyard.

I had to think I had to get another cat that looks just like Snookums. I got on the phone and made some calls. A friend of mine came over with a kitten.

No it has to be exactly identical. Well this is the only one that comes close. He replies.

My sister Roselle is supposed to come home tomorrow. She’s sure to notice that this is not the cat that she left a few days ago. I looked at the small in sized cat rolling around on the floor.

Where is my cat? Didn’t you see her? Roselle screamed, I know this isn’t Snookums! I gave you just one task. One task to do and that’s to take care of my cat. She started to cry and hung up the phone.

I wasn’t really a reliable person and she knows that. As I look at the phone still in my hand. I began to cry as well.

THE DAY I LOST MY FATHER

As I write this, I’m fighting back my tears. This is a true story and as I write this true story. My heart is feeling all kinds of mixed emotions.

It was a sunny Thursday morning. November 7th 2019 when my father as always got up early no matter what. Got himself dressed and had his breakfast that was filled with onions. His favorite by the way with anything.

Before living on his usual bus or trolley ride. I remember him making a corny joke with one of my children. I was in the middle of making my own breakfast. Then he proceeded to head on out the door.

My mother was also fiddling around in the kitchen early for a change. It was a very unusual morning. Not for my father, but for the rest of us. So off he went as he closed the door behind him. Who would have thought that we would not see my father again.

As the day moved on, I sang Sponge Bob’s songs and talked with one of my daughter’s. Which by the way is 19 years of age. Just like my father was. The whole family were children at heart.

My father, who also by then would have turned 84 years old on the 30th. He was on his way home from one of his trolley rides. When he fell asleep and rode to the end of the line.

Ridding right past his stop, 52nd Woodland Ave. All of daylight had come and gone. Where was he, he would never take this long? I said to my daughter. She replied, oh he’s probably down the street at one of the neighbors houses.

I replied back, not this long. At the same exact time. My mother was up stairs thinking where is he? Finally a police car parked almost in front of our door. They gave me a hospital letterhead with a contact of a doctor’s name on it.

I called the number, and I spoke with the doctor. He told me that my father was on Septa. In case, whomever doesn’t know. Septa is Philadelphia’s transportation vehicle.

It was so upsetting, but the physician was kind and he also spoke with a heavy heart to inform us. My father died alone on the trolley. He died from a heart attack which he had survived once before.

This time he wasn’t so fortunate. He passed away doing what he loved. That’s what makes me feel a lot better. That’s what makes me smile. We will miss his loud laughter. The grumpiness he can be when someone makes him angry in the streets.

I know that, I should rejoice in knowing that the