If we assume ghosts are real, what type of ghost would you like to see?

Umm… I’m not interested in seeing any ghosts, to be honest. I’m terrified. I believe my grandfather appeared to me when I was about three or four years old, but my memory of that experience is foggy, and is kept alive by the story my family remembers me telling them.

These days, I would only be willing to encounter a ghost in my dreams, when I’m totally knocked out and have the option to wake up at any time. I would love to talk to my Aunt Bernadette and Grandma Ruth. I’ve dreamed about Bernadette quite a few times. Maybe even Zora Neale Hurston, or the Buddha. As long as they come to me in peace, aren’t too spooky, and have a little wisdom to share.

What did Gary say over at ShadowOfGevros.com?

Create a character who is falsely accused of a crime.

Tiffany walked into the department store looking for something to wear to her birthday party. She was turning 17 in a week, and needed the perfect dress. She wanted something sparkling and a little form fitting. A dress that would make her stand out from her friends, and make all of her guests say, “Wow.”

She breezed past the fragrance aisles and weaved her way to the Juniors section. She came right after class, so she carried her bookbag, purse, and a heavy jacket. Lots of other teens—some she recognized from school—were in the store too.

A hot pink strapless dress immediately caught her eye. She grabbed the dress in her size and thumbed through the rest of the rack. There she found a black cocktail dress, a backless royal blue option, and a sequined top she thought of pairing with a skirt she’d purchased last month. She gathered her selections and made her way to the fitting room.

The attendant gave her a cold greeting, snatched her clothes, passed her a plastic number card, and showed her to a room. Tiffany tried everything on, glancing at herself from all angles. The hot pink dress was perfect for the party, but she’d have to wait a few days for her next paycheck before she could buy it. She slid everything back onto the hangers and decided to check out one more store before heading home.

The cruel fitting room attendant was no longer at her post, so Tiffany put all of her clothes back on the rack. She adjusted her bags, put on her heavy jacket, and walked toward the front door. As she strolled through the store’s metal detectors, the alarms began to sound. Tiffany froze. Everyone in the store began to stare. A group of security guards appeared and marched toward her. She didn’t know what to do.

“Don’t move!” the tallest one yelled. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back inside. “We caught you on camera missy. Did you think you could get away with stealing? Come with us.”

Tiffany was almost in tears. What did I do wrong? She thought.

Who was falsely accused on ShawdowOfGevros.com?

Elvis still gets 100 Valentines each year.  Tell about one of the people who sent one.

Dear Elvis,

Why wasn’t I born when you were alive? My mom still plays all of your records and movies. “Can’t Help Falling in Love” is my all-time favorite song. Wow, you were so hot. Way hotter than Ryan Gosling or Justin Timberlake. There’s something about your smile, those beautiful eyes, and your hair(!) that make me dream about what our lives could have been like together. Sometimes I think that you’d still be around if I’d been alive back then. Our paths would’ve definitely crossed. I’m sure of it.

You would’ve noticed me at a party, or in the audience at one of your shows. Or, I would’ve been a famous movie star. Your leading lady in a blockbuster film. We’d fall in love, and you’d marry me instead of Priscilla. Caitlin Presley has a great ring to it, right? We’d make music together, I’d bake you yummy vegan cupcakes, and you’d be so happy you wouldn’t even think about drugs or alcohol. I’m sure of it.

Every time I see your picture, or hear your music, I just think about how awesome you are. You were the greatest performer ever. My boyfriend Matt broke up with me yesterday, so I’m sending all my love to you this year. I really miss you, Elvis Presley. Happy Valentines Day.

Love always and forever,

Caitlin

Who is Gary’s Elvis fan? Go to ShadowOfGevros.com to read more.

Write about a random picture you would find in an envelope of finished prints at Costco.

It’s the two of us, standing side by side. I’m posing with the traditional toothy grin. He looks stern, but warm, as usual. One arm wrapped around my shoulder. The other, making the peace sign.

It was chilly that day in the plaza. My first visit to Barcelona. I remember being hung-over, and wishing that I’d worn more comfortable shoes. We argued about the itinerary that morning. I wanted to sleep; he wanted to visit more sites. It was one of our last days in Spain, and I recall feeling a bit homesick. You know that tiny little voice that stirs deep down in your body? A woman’s intuition, perhaps? I don’t know what it was, but I knew we weren’t supposed to be there. I forced a smile that day, and carried on.

Funny thing is, I don’t even remember taking this picture, but I’m glad we did. It was one of our last days in Spain, and one of his last days alive.

A short and sweet little tale! Hmm… what did Gary write about over at ShadowOfGevros.com?

I love Jada. She’s so tough! And she’s a fellow Baltimore girl. Check out this interesting roundtable discussion with her mother and daughter, Willow.

I think mother-daughter conversations are crucial, and I’m glad to see that Jada is so open with her family, and is encouraging women around the world to host dialogue of their own. Yesterday was Mother’s Day. When was the last time you had a heart-to-heart with your mom?

For some reason, the challenge skips Day 11! I used this weekend to rest my mind and body. Now I’m back to business.

What is your favorite day of the week?

Saturday! Saturday is a selfish day. It’s a self-loving day. It’s the one day that most people have to truly focus on themselves. Jobs, tasks, and daily issues get pushed aside for just a moment on Saturday, and are replaced with whatever you choose!

I like to spend my Saturdays resting or exploring. Flea markets, shopping, brunch, reading, bookstore visits, walks or bikes in the park, afternoon movies, sleeping late, staying out late, dinner, drinks, dancing, or strolling. A sunny Saturday sets the stage for possibility.

What’s your favorite day of the week? Head over to ShadowOfGevros.com to see how my brother broke it down.

What do you want to be remembered for?

Off the top of my head…

I want people to look back and remember me for my kindness, warmth, honesty, and passion.

I want to be the woman that people recall for her spontaneity, her toughness, her generosity. The fabled old lady who saw the world, loved deeply, and created important works of art. The colorful woman who was fearless and determined. Who stood up for what she believed in and didn’t let anything stand in her way.

The sweet, tender woman who knew a little bit about everything and could drop wisdom right in the palm of your hand. The woman who aged beautifully and recognized the beauty in all things. I want to be remembered for my smile.

Now off to ShadowOfGevros.com to check out what my bro wants to be remembered for…

What was your favorite childhood toy?

Barbie. Hands down. I owned (and wanted more of) everything Barbie-related.

Barbie dolls.

Barbie clothes.

Barbie Corvette, Jeep, and limousine.

Barbie pizza shop. Barbie picnic set.

I had a huge toy box filled with black and brown Barbie (and Ken) dolls and their accessories. I created dramatic, soap-opera-style storylines for them. I’m sure whatever I watched on TV at the time had a major influence. My dolls got married, had babies, broke up with their boyfriends, and went shopping. I did my best interpretation of adult life through Barbie’s adventures, until imitation wasn’t satisfying enough and it was time to go off and discover life on my own.

Check out ShadowOfGevros.com to see what my brother played with.

Tell your life story from someone else’s point of view.

“You know, if Patrick had lived, you wouldn’t be here,” they told her.

She was the replacement baby. The first girl—born jaundiced—one year after the intended fourth child, named Patrick Angel, didn’t survive.

Although seeing the pictures of Patrick curled up on his first and only day of life saddened her, she always felt triumphant.

What if Patrick died so I could live? She thought. She wasn’t supposed to be here. This became a theme in her life. A thread that dictated many of her decisions.

They nicknamed her Geika. Geika Marie Jones to be exact. Her real name honored her grandmothers, as well as the name her mother always desired as her own.

Her life began in Kansas City, grew in Baltimore, studied in Philadelphia, blossomed in Harlem, trained in Newark, and reemerged in Brooklyn.

In KC, she walked barefoot on a gravel driveway, obsessed over Barbie, Christian Slater, Nickelodeon, and Paula Abdul. She learned to ride a bike when her brother removed the training wheels, played make-believe, watched movies and A Different World. She mimicked her brothers; clung to her mother, and listened to her father tell stories of traveling throughout Europe as a young man.

In Baltimore, family, kale, and sweet potatoes surrounded her. She watched the flash of lightening bugs at cookouts, scooped egg custard snowballs, homeschool, Catholic school, saxophone, heartbreak, classmates teasing. Escaped through rock music, country music, and “Good Times, Great Oldies.” Survived pimples, braces, and awkwardness, prom, first car, and the first tastes of freedom.

Philadelphia schooled her to the soundtrack of The Roots, Jill Scott, Musiq Soulchild, and Roy Hargrove. Beer, Bacardi, and smoke. Road trips, dorms, parties, too many parties, finals, 10-page papers, gotta-get-good-grades. Journalism, boys, Bob Marley, ideas and passion. She made bonds in Philadelphia that would eventually take her to Brazil, Peru, Bolivia, and Los Angeles. Philly was her city of Love. I know because I was there.

She was alone in Harlem. Cold and discovering a new city. She explored on subways, buses, North, South, East, and West. She tried to prove herself as a writer—editorial intern, editorial assistant. She wrote, and stressed, and borrowed library books on the “Quarter-Life Crisis.” She went to movie theaters, parties, and church by herself. Ran a half-marathon. Always, always, always searching for more. Fell in love in Union Square. Shed tears on every sidewalk in Manhattan.

A return to Baltimore and a year in Newark taught her to: Stand up for yourself. Trust yourself. Know that you’re worthy. And now here she sits, on her bed, in a tiny room in a colorful house in Brooklyn. Learning to unlearn. Slowly checking things off her bucket list.

She wasn’t supposed to be here.

Allllrighty then. How did my brother answer this prompt? Head over to ShadowOfGevros.com to see what’s good.

Today called for somewhat of an intimate response. I tried my best to describe…

What sets you apart from the crowd?

What sets me apart from the crowd? I live for rich, bold colors—yellow, fuchsia, turquoise—but often dress myself in all black. I mimic British and Southern accents in my free time. My imagination gets lost in film and novel storylines, and I can vividly imagine myself as a rockstar. Vividly.

I value memorable experiences over money, although I would love more money for more experiences. And new (comfortable!) shoes—even though I’d much rather walk barefoot most days. I love chunky jewelry, warm conversations, cultures, candles, and connections.

I feel most connected to my natural surroundings, and have a deep passion for the environment. I can dance for hours, and often hold my best concert performances in the shower, and while I’m cleaning the house (when no one is around, of course). I get excited about books, bookmarks, postcards, and handmade goods. I’m the proud caretaker of five houseplants, and a proud Auntie to six amazing little ones.

I like to challenge myself, and do the things people wouldn’t expect from a girl like me. I’m not interested in an ordinary life, and even though I second-guess my choices, I like being the oddball. I try, I make mistakes, I’m often afraid. What sets me apart is that I’m truly an individual. We all are. I’ve spent most of my life trying to fit in, but now I’m beginning to celebrate all of the fibers, the layers, brushstrokes, and the stitches that make me who I am.

What makes my brother stand out? Check out ShadowOfGevros.com to find out. I can honestly say, most of my worldly interests come from my big brothers. I wouldn’t be this fly if they hadn’t been so cool!