Ghosts

I read your note it brought a host

Of memories so near and dear

As though a whimsical tender ghost

Suddenly whispered in my ear

Emotion deep and touching be

No matter where or what we did

Sitting under a large shade tree

Much more fun when twas forbid

I shall always keep you close to me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yarn

Yarn

yarn 2

Satisfaction guaranteed

Yarns and stories fill a need

Warming hands across a barrel

A moment without a quarrel

Huddled together for warmth

Momentarily transformed

From loneliness or despair

Caught up in a story where

The promise of another life

Replaces the current strife

Fading in and out of reality

Nothing here one must referee

 

 

 

 

 

Powerful Piece

I have followed Pat Capponi’s writings for many years. I have heard her speak several times – all compelling. I continue to follow her advocacy work on Facebook. Her wise thoughts have both validated as well as challenged my thinking of social class and social ‘service’. Her late sister Diana was instrumental in helping me […]

via Pat Capponi was awarded the Order of Canada in 2015 for her advocacy… https://www.thestar.com/news/canada/2015/07/01/pat-capponis-order-of-canada-recognizes-advocacy-for-mentally-ill.html — Hope is Infectious

Critical Error 75

Christina stepped back wiping tears from her cheeks.  “Don’t tell mom!  She’ll worry if she knows I’m upset.” Paul smiled, ‘like mother like daughter’.

“I think the telling should be yours, Christina.  She needs to know that her life matters to you and perhaps she’ll be less inclined to take unnecessary risks.”

“I know, that thought crossed my mind too.  I could see her offering herself up as bait just to catch this creep.  I’m afraid of, more than anything.”

“I’m watching her closely, Christina.  I won’t allow her to do that.  We have the situation under control.  We pushed the process along, further and earlier to force his hand.  She’s completely surrounded by law enforcement, whether she realizes it or not and she can’t make a move we won’t know about.  Should this creep get close enough, we’ll take him down.”

“Thanks, Paul.  I appreciate that more than I can say.”  Paul smiled warmly before adding, “We have you covered too, Christina, and Andrew.  I won’t let anything harm you.”

“I know you’ll do your best Paul.  And by the way, I think your good for mom.  I’m glad you came into our lives.  I see good things for you two.  More, I want good things for you two.  Mom deserves someone special, who cares about her.  She hasn’t had that, probably never if I’m honest.”

“She has you, Christina.”

“I know, but I meant on the romantic side of things.  Gives me hope too.”

As conversations went, this was as touching and encouraging as it gets, Paul thought.  One hurdle down.  Now, if only Andrew felt the same, it would be a real bonus.

Eilea walked in toward the end of the conversation and heard Christina’s remarks about her and Paul and what she’d observed regarding her mom’s needs.

Wrapping her arms around him from behind, she hugged him close.  “Perceptive, isn’t she?”

Turning, Paul agreed.  “She does you proud, Eilea.  Incredibly observant,  she cares about her family, and is moved deeply by your current situation.”

“I’ve felt honoured on more than one occasion by each of them.  I’m not sure I can take credit for it, as they are individuals who have made choices.  Good choices so far.  I take comfort in knowing I may have assisted with a guiding hand, but they are now young adults and the choices and decisions they make are their own.”

“Well, I beg to differ.  I’ve seen young people act out and commit unspeakable acts of cruelty, steal, lie, cheat raised by caring parents and others that practically raised themselves because their parents were indifferent, uncaring, or too involved with their career to consider the results to a child.  At some point, it is about individual choices, but I really believe they copy your outlook actions and expectations more than make choices.  Eventually, they feel comfortable and strong enough to make them by themselves.”

Eilea sighed contentedly.  “She’s right about one thing, you are not only important to me, but I didn’t realize exactly what was missing until I met you.  You’re pretty special.”  She sealed the thought with a heart-stopping kiss that set him back on his heels.

Page 76                                                                                    Page 74

Vulnerable

 

26139_392404787391_6728696_n

We were young, just twenty-one

Yet I knew you were the one

Stardust once was in my eyes

My love for you I vocalized

Together as one you and I

Forever together do or die

So certain we would last for years

Sadly drowning in an ocean of tears

Romantic illusions broken and crushed

Around me, all have turned to dust

Pick myself up and dust myself off

Trying not at true love to scoff

Other possibilities before me lay

Perhaps a true love I’ll find one day

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Liebster Blog Award

Sarah your a complete delight. I love that you take time to chat, whether long or short, as you have such a busy life. I love your humour, your writing skills are par excellent! I enjoy spending time with you. Thank you for including me in your busy routine.

Perfume


Perfume

Cal found her intoxicating.  It wasn’t one thing but many.  Her effervescence, her joie de vivre, the way her eyes lit up when she encountered something exciting interesting or moving.  How tender her heart was, that moved her to run to any child hurt or crying to pick them up if they’d fallen down.

When he stood near, he was immediately lost in the scent of her perfumed hair, her long slender neck beckoned a touch a kiss a taste.  He was madly in love with her.  Could barely keep his hands off of her, wanted her desperately.

This was his wife, the love of his life!  The woman he adored from sun-up to sun-set. He could well imagine them in their 80’s and he’d still feel the same. She was the love of his life there could be no other.

He’d created a perfume just for her that embodied all of what he associated with her.  He desperately hoped his perfume “Amelia” would please her as much as him and evoke her pleasure.

Amelia knew something was up, the look in his eye told her of expectation and excitement.  She walked toward him a smile upon her lips, a question in her eye.

He held out a beautiful little bottle shaped like a diamond.  “You finished it?”

“Indeed, and what’s more, it’s yours.”  She lifted the perfume and read her name.

“Oh, Cal!  I don’t know what to say!  I’m completely honoured.”

“Try it, my love, see if it’s you.”

She did. And it was.  Perfection in a bottle she’d said before falling to the floor unconcious.  He looked on in horror!

 

Critical Error 74

Christina snagged Paul early the following morning.  “Can we talk for a minute?”

“Sure, Christina, what’s up?”

“I thought I’d check into the mind-set if that’s possible of the perp.  I don’t get it.”

“Ok, go on,” Paul urged.

“According to what I’ve found, there are four types of stalkers.

The Rejected stalker – is a result of a breakdown in a close relationship (usually but not limited to sexual partners) and can include family members, close friends or others

The initial motivation is – either attempting to reconcile the relationship, or to exact revenge for a perceived rejection.”  She went on to list them as:

  • ” described as ambivalent about the victim, sometimes appear to want the relationship back, are clearly angry and want revenge on the victim.
  • some protracted stalking becomes a substitute for the past relationship as it allows the stalker to continue to feel close to the victim
  • and is the stalker’s attempt at salvaging their damage self-esteem

Ok, I get that.”

“And?” Paul urged.

The next kind are rejected stalkers ambivalent toward victims.

  • sometimes clearly angry out for revenge
  • sometimes to help them feel close to the victim
  • in other times to salvage their damaged self-esteem

Another is the intimacy seeking stalker and  arises from loneliness and lack of close a confidante.  Their victims are usually strangers or acquaintances in a stalker’s desire for a relationship.

    • Frequently their behaviour is fuelled by a severe mental illness
    • revolving around delusional beliefs about the victim, like a perceived relationship (even when none exists)
    • to establish an emotional connection and an intimate relationship. The stalking is maintained by the gratification that comes from the belief that they are closely linked to another person.

“So far so good,” Paul said.

The Incompetent Suitor stalks out of loneliness, lust and can target strangers or acquaintances.

      • their talking is described as a way of getting a date or short term relationship
      • they stalk for brief periods but
      • they are blind or indifferent about a victim’s distress
      • relattable to cognitive limitations or poor social skills

The Predatory stalker which arises from deviant social practices and interests.

      • usually male and victims are usually female strangers he’s sexually interested in
      • stalking usually initiated to gain sexual gratification (e.g., voyeurism targeting a single victim over time)
      • also used to obtain information about a victim as a precursor to sexual assault
      • the stalking is both instrumental and also gratifying  because it gives them the sense of power and control they get from targeting an unsuspecting victim”

“I’ve been studying these “types” for awhile.  It seems to me this guy has crossed over, if I’m reading this correctly. He doesn’t seem to fit into any particular category.  He’s been stalking mom for months, sent the letters, photos, etc.  He hasn’t approached her and doesn’t seem like he’ll quit.  He’s moved into threatening and physically hurting those close to her.  My question is, is this possible?”

“I know as much about stalking as you do for the most part, Christina.  So far your assessment is right on target.  He’s crossing all kinds of boundaries and what boundaries there are don’t exist.  He doesn’t or hasn’t sent any notes apologizing so I don’t think he understand what he’s doing.  I also agree his goal is an intimate relationship with your mother (obviously perceived only in his mind).  He’s proven dangerous and threatening.”

“I know that psychologists suggest none be treated as criminals, but for my money, when we catch this guy, he will be.  He’s physically hurt you and Brandon, his threats are real, he pretended to send a bomb but couldn’t quite follow through.  Whether that was fear for himself or any “imagined” concern for your mother’s welfare is debatable.

“So does that mean he’ll try to kill mom when he realizes she doesn’t want him?”

“I wished I could tell you otherwise, but I figure that’s the scenario that exists, yes.”

“Then please, shoot him!”

Paul walked toward Christina and opened his farm wide and she walked toward him and fell against his chest and he felt more than heard gentle sobs. Wrapping his arms tight around her he said, “I have no intention of letting this miscreant get away, Christina.  He’s a low-life criminal intent on harm.”

Page 75                                                                           Page 73

 

Liebster Blog Award

Liebster Blog Award!

LIEBSTER
A grateful thank you to birdflight for nominating me for this delightful award. It certainly came out of the blue but I’m touched as well.

The rules of this award:
1. Acknowledge the blog who nominated you and display the award.
2. Answer the 11 questions the blogger gives you.
3. Give 11 random facts about yourself.
4. Nominate 11 blogs.
5. Notify those blogs of the nomination.
6. Give them 11 questions to answer.
My 11 Questions For The Nominees

  1. What was your favorite age?

My favourite age was 26 (for although I had experience) I looked like I was 16 which at the time affronted me for some odd reason, but in retrospect delights me now.

  1. What is your most prized possession?

My prized possession would be my cat, Porsche who is such an incredible animal and who brings me such joy.  He’s intelligent, has a great sense of humour, is a character, and hands above other cats I’ve had. I love him dearly. ( I don’t regard my kids as possessions, but gifts, you see.)

  1. How do you like your eggs?

I enjoy poached eggs most but omelets too.

  1. Who is your favorite author or poet?

Not sure I can answer that as I have many, but I know who I dislike (wait for it) Edgar Allen Poe.  His work was so dark and negative.

  1. Can you dance well?

I used to dance very well, once upon a time, until my “activity” limiting accident. Still love watching ballroom dancing competitions around the world.

  1. What is one of your favorite quotes?

That would be Albert Einstein – “Creativity is contagious, pass it on.”

  1. What word in your language do you like most?

Love.  Lover conquers hate, can overcome obstacles, open doors, heals and simply cuts to the chase of all our problems when you seriously consider it.

  1. Do prefer the ocean or the mountains?

That’s a more difficult one.  I love the ocean and I doubt I could live anywhere it wasn’t.  I learned to love the mountains after living on the prairie and being terrified of their majestic peaks at first. Then I fell in love with them.  Luckily I have both nearby 🙂

  1. What was your greatest accomplishment to date?

My most precious accomplishment was being able to have two children, and watching them grow into fine adults, and knowing they love me and want me in their lives and actively include me.

  1. Who is your favorite actor or actress?

My favourite actor would be Robert Redford.

  1. Can you sing well?

I used to, yes.  I loved singing very much.  These days I enjoy singing along with newcomers on The Voice and X Factor.  Their auditions always touch me so much as they sing “their” way at that moment in time, untouched by what the “masses” do.

 

Thank you so much, that was delightful fun and entertaining too.

Eleven random facts about me, hmm:

  1.  I started collecting humming birds due to a gift from a friend (they are not easy to come by).
  2. I laugh if someone gets hurt ( I know so bad) but so true.
  3. I’m once again “short” a serious issue I say! as everyone in my family is now taller than me, harumph snicker snicker
  4. I love chocolate (but then who doesn’t)?
  5. I love gardening.
  6. I hate bugs! (do the two go together)?
  7. I love sitting outside on a cool summers evening enjoying the breeze and twilight
  8. I no longer drive (I’m chauffer driver). hehe
  9. I love watching children play.
  10. I love watching people.
  11. I enjoy chatting (can you tell)?

I would like to nominate the following:

https://biaatlas.wordpress.com/

https://saschadarlington.me/

https://love-it-now.live/

https://lizalizaskysaregrey.com/

https://thesarahdoughty.wordpress.com/

https://sumyannawrites.wordpress.com/

https://seackerman.com/

https://lucciagray.com/

https://aidinalas.com/

https://atrangizindagieksafar.com/

These wonderful writers are completely enjoyable. Possibly you already know and visit them, but if not, please check out their blogs.  Your sure to be delightfully entertained by their passion, expertise, sharing, giving, and involvement.

My questions for you are as follows:

1.  Your greatest achievement to date is . . .

2.  Your most amusing moment to date is . . .

3.  You create time for one special thing for you and it is . . .

4.  Your most “scandalous” moment in time was  . . .

5. If you could go back in time who would you be?

6.  Your most touching and amazing moment to date is . . .

7.  Where do you go to unwind?

8.  What do you enjoy most about blogging?

9.  What is something silly you love about yourself?

10.  Do you work, and if so, is it something you love?

11.  What is one life experience you learned that changed your life?

 

 

Zany #AtoZChallenge #amwriting

 

2017 Badge

I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the challenge of coming up with a new word for each letter of the alphabet, in my case “emotions”.  Thank you all for reading and hopefully enjoying. I look forward to the next time round.

Larissa was looking with eager anticipation to her first televised show, “Zany by Degree” starring, none other than, herself.  She’d invited a mix of some exceedingly well-known and more obscure comedians willing to participate. There was something for everyone, or so she hoped.

Her agent had suggested she bite the bullet and take an offer from a local tv station.  At first, she’d rejected the idea but after giving the matter serious thought, decided, what they hey, why not?

She’d gained a large following and kudos from some of the best who applauded her zany sense of humour and crazy off the wall antics even though she’d never stooped to vulgarity or swearing, her jokes seemed to leave them laughing in the aisles.

Everything was in place, she stood tall waiting momentarily – it was time.  She went to face the audience and welcome them all for attending.  Following her opening monologue, she introduced the line-up and brought her first guest out.

The following morning, her manager called and whooped into her ear, “Pick up the paper, read, read!” he extolled.

“Zany was right.  You can’t miss the next show, “a must” that will leave you feeling warm of heart and laughing for hours.”

She was tickled pink glowing with her first success of which she hoped there would be many.

 

Knackered

Knackered

MAXINE tired

Ever felt so knackered

Even thought was scattered

You had to ask if someone

Saw you climb in bed, anyone?

I must have run a marathon

For I surely feel exhausted

Not bright or chipper, just addlepated

Yes my get up and go, surely got up and went

That pillow fight that I lost, I seriously lament

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

beyond compare

 

 

 

Youthful #AtoZChallenge #amwriting

Jessie was 91 and joked she didn’t look a day over 90 and proud of it.  What a ham, what a delight.  She held court three days a week at Marisa’s boutique arriving at ten am and leaving precisely at three considering her day well spent.

Her stories were timeless, energetic, scandalous (for her day), impromptu, and vital told with pizzazz and joy.  Perhaps that’s why she was so spry and her memories so clear. Even the young would sit enraptured by her tales. Wistful longing upon their faces perhaps seeing themselves sailing along on one of her adventures.  On occasion, Marisa was caught up in the story herself and felt cheated as she listened to Jessie’s delightful whimsical memories wishing she too had lived a doing or dare existence.  Today was no exception. Jessie was so vivacious, so infectious you wanted to be there, part of each story.

Perhaps one day she’d write them all down before it was too late and they were lost. Marisa was a bit of a story writer herself and hoped to corner her and suggest the possibility.  What a privilege to be her ghost-writer, re-telling each story exactly as Jessie had related them.

Jessie wandered into her home pleased with herself.  After removing her coat hat and gloves, she sat down in front of her table.  Looking down, she smiled.  All her stories were neatly handwritten in a beautifully bound book.  She wrapped it carefully in brown paper, wrote Marisa’s name on it and tied it up with string.

That’s how they found her, as if she’d fallen asleep at her table.  Marisa had sent a couple of local men to search for her as she hadn’t arrived for her daily story telling session.  They brought the book with them and handed it across.  Marisa dissolved into tears.  She’d miss Jessie, as would all her patrons.

News spread fast, and they gathered at the boutique to pay their respects.  Marisa opened the brown paper and saw the beautiful stories Jessie had written and shared,  staring in disbelief.  Her handwriting was exemplary, her tales immortalized forever.

The community paid to have the book redone, all proceeds to go to the Jessie scholarship fund for other eager young writers, many of whom were present daily.  A delightful legacy indeed.

Blanket

Blanket

20161209_125049 spring blossoms

summer picscropped-flowers-008.jpg

 

A blanket of snow covers the land

Twinkling, sparkling, gloves in hand

We rush to greet pure white pristine snow

Our faces awash with expectant glow

Spring now upon us, buds so lush

Such delight awaits a painters brush

How entrancing are blossoms in bloom

Amid an ever-changing fragrant costume

A blanket of azure blue skies overhead

Whispers and promises of warm days ahead

Picnics, climbing, swimming and more

Oh how these changing blankets I adore

As blankets of orange, red and gold

A tale of upcoming winter foretold

Each resplendent with beauty and grace

Bringing warm smiles to everyone’s face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Xenophobic #AtoZChallenge #amwriting

Anna welcomed everyone.  She was a natural at placing regulars and new arrivals at ease.  Hiring her was the best move Frank ever made.  Youthful, vibrant, a seeker of life, that summed up a part of who she was.  Loving and caring following closely behind.

Other’s held the position before her, showing xenophobic tendencies (stranger fearing) as he described them.  Not so Anna, thankfully.  Every visitor to his humble abode was welcomed with open arms.  He found her a constant delight, refreshing, open.

Still, he hadn’t been able to make inroads into her heart.  With him, she was standoffish, distant, on alert.  He wondered why.  A gentleman from start to finish, he took his cues from her, responding accordingly.  Frank remained careful, holding her at arm’s length, never crossing boundaries or moving too fast.

He valued everything about her.  With time, he hoped she’d see him in a different light but short of asking her outright and endangering the fragile gift of friendship they currently shared, he was at a loss. Dare he risk losing her by asking for more?  Time, he’d give it a little more time and then he’d make his move.  Perhaps time would provide the answers he sought.

 

 

 

Roots

Roots

 

roots

Those without roots, always adrift

Never belonging life is makeshift

Wandering roaming, minute fragments

No solidarity with no attachments

Gathering no dust, not settled or part

Of what makes up life, right from the start

Roots give us essence as human beings

Evidence of generations never fleeting

For some it is everything knowing they belong

While for others it just a melody in a song

 

 

 

 

 

Warmhearted #AtoZChallenge #amwriting

Daniel smiled.  He’d found her Achilles heel.  She was his ticket.  Being a great manipulator he always struck the vulnerable at their weakest point. Hers was warmth.  Ava was discerning, that was obvious.  Still, he was a better actor he was sure of it.

The warmhearted act had won her over, finally.  It was a fight, but he was the victor and soon he’d gain entrance into that glorious golden inner circle of the elite he’d ached to be part of since he was a teenager and first understood the have and have not principle.

Daniel was meticulous in groundwork and therefore did his homework.  There wasn’t much about Ava he hadn’t ascertained either through reading about her or through accessing her closest friends.  Each eagerly extolled her finer points.  All except Vanessa that is.  She constantly eyed him as though he was a bug to be crushed.

Little did he know that Ava’s friends had her back and while she hadn’t asked them to, they’d done some digging of their own.  What they’d found disturbed them to such a degree they’d called a “family meeting” and brought her to the office.

Ava was shocked when she saw all the stony faces.  “What’s up?  Something catastrophic occur in, the 12 1/2 hours since we last spoke?”

“You could say that,” Darren responded.  “Come, sit, there’s something you need to know.”

“What, it takes 12 of you to tell me?” she asked with a half laugh.

“In this case, yes,”  pausing for a large intake of breath he said, “read this, don’t say anything until you’re done.”

Dumpstruck!  Completely side-swiped.  This she hadn’t seen coming.  Well!!  Looking at the concerned earnest faces around her, the shock still evident she said, “Well!  Thank you.  Thank you for caring, for having my back.  I never thought…I didn’t do my homework it seems.”

“Didn’t want you getting in any deeper unless you knew what you were up against.”

“Thanks, thanks everyone.  I’ll take care of this, obviously.”

Daniel bounced through the door in eager anticipation.  Yes, this was his moment!  Ava had never invited her into the inner sanctum before.  Progress.  He was to find out otherwise very shortly.  Broadsided by a bus on steroids.  That was how this was going down.  Vaness smirked.  Poor form, but she couldn’t resist.  She’d disliked him on sight.  She’d saved her best friend from trouble and heartache.  Her word alone might not have been enough, but with everyone in attendance, it had been.

She nearly laughed out loud when the swagger turned into a skid and his face registered shock as they stood in unison surrounding Ava.  The jig was up. No easy way out now you creep, she thought.  Good riddens to bad rubbish!

 

Vulnerable #AtoZChallenge #amwriting

Stacey had never felt this vulnerable in her life.  Sharing on an intimate scale was a new experience for her and yet that’s how she felt around Jake.  He was tall, athletic and a cop.  The last thing she’d expected was to feel vulnerable around him.  More than that, she hadn’t expected the relationship to go anywhere for any length of time.

She’d laid her cards on the table at the outset.  Having been burned on so many levels, she’d become cautious, wary, watchful.  With every man she met, she watched for tell-tale red flags.  Once beaten twice shy.

Although she’d never expressed any personal concerns at the outset, she’d made a point of stating open-ended for as long as the fun lasted.  Jake had taken a different path.  He’d been gentle, caring, strong when he had to be but had given her great latitude.  No strings, no quid pro quo, just kept giving of himself, opening up, allowing her in, witnessing first hand who he was.  No shields, no bars, no dead ends.

When she’d questioned him regarding anything, really, he’d answered looking her dead in the eye with unwavering honesty, a straight shooter from the start.  She’d been drawn to that quality instantly.  Still, there was more to learn, to see to feel. The idea was so appealing.  Somewhere deep inside, she yearned for that release of emotion.

Stacey knew she could lose herself in him.  Did she want to? Could she be that free? With each passing day, she let down her guard. Yes, she really did want that for herself, for her partner.  It was a goal worth reaching for.

Unsettled #AtoZChallenge #amwriting

Shania Twain’s “Whose Boots” played in the background.  Anita sighed.  She loved her. Talented woman with thousands of songs that moved her to the core.  Her success was well earned.  Prancing around the dance hall to one after the other, making up and adding her own movements, her ballet style all her own, she moved with grace and elegance.  Her movements were fluid to the point of boneless.

“That Don’t Impress Me Much!” engendered a new thought and fresh movements.  Completely involved, she hadn’t noticed Richard arrive.  He stood on the side realizing she wasn’t aware of him barely daring to breathe.  Her interpretation simple, elegant with a little sauciness to boot. A beautiful spin on point with the song.

When she stopped he clapped gently then firmer when her startled eyes turned toward him.  “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

“I figured as much. That was beautiful.”

Dabbing the towel to her face she said, “Thanks.”

His watchful intense look always unsettled her and gave her goosebumps. “What’s up?” she asked curiously.

“Saw the lights on, wondered who was here.  Might have known it was you.”

“Couldn’t settle after the performance, needed to unwind.”

“More dance does that for you?”

“More often than not.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“What does that mean?”

“Anything, nothing, everything,” he replied cryptically.

She watched him watching her.  Unsettled.  That’s what he did to her.  She’d rarely made time for men in her life and the ones she had were a mistake.  Still, there was something about him that got to her, heightened her senses, awakened desires she’d long denied, thrilling her with secret expectations.  Yes, he unsettled her, greatly.

 

 

 

 

Critical Error 73

Eilea was on edge.  It showed in jerky movements, darting glances, and hesitation.  She was right to feel agitated.  He was a seasoned cop and he felt the touch of nerves. Never as acutely felt as now, with Eilea and her kids involved.

They were dear to his heart.  He knew when the time was right, it would broad-side him, and it had.  These were his kind of people.  Smart, funny, adept, able to go with the flow.  It seemed he was making headway with Andrew.  Christina was more relaxed around him.  Whether it was because he was a cop and they required his expertise at this time, he was available, or whether because they were accepting him personally, he wasn’t entirely sure.

Still, the ruse with Eilea was working, dragging their opponent into uncharted waters, forcing his hand.  It also made him more acutely aware of her as a woman and he desired her, even more, enjoyed every moment of her company.  If adversity brought out the unexpected in people, showed their true colours, then he had his answer.  For she was strong, determined and handling the situation well.

The end of the day, everyone was tucked up tight and he knocked on her door. After she called out, he entered and they enjoyed an uninterrupted romantic night that would stay in his memory forever.  Charming, relaxed, open, giving and receiving, her romantic side knew no bounds. He lay looking down at her sleeping form feeling exceedingly touched.  Eilea hadn’t allowed many close since her separation, so he felt the depth of her giving all the more.

He stroked her hair before laying down and wrapping his arms around her, feeling her snuggle close as a whisper escaped.

Eilea woke to the firm arms wrapped tightly around her and smiled before snuggling back in for a few more minutes.  She was falling for this man, what’s more, she loved the idea and welcomed the thought there may be a future for them together.

Page 74                                                                                    Page 72

Tolerant #AtoZChallenge #amwriting

2017 BadgeTolerant, thoughtful, tender.  The words on her headstone.  She’d lived up to those words and they’d served her well until that final day when tolerance had been her undoing. Greta hadn’t suspected he was anything other than what he purported to be.

Standing over her grave masked in an expensive auburn real hair wig, blue-tinted contacts, sporting a weight loss of 20 lbs she could ill afford, she sighed.  The life she’d known a distant memory.

George Armstead had provided an education, enrolling her in a police academy at his own expense where she’d received training and was now a full-fledged detective.

She’d taken the course because she’d always wanted to be a cop, more since the dramatic life altering incidents had forced change upon her.  Now more than ever she wanted to find the man responsible and George promised to help her when the time was right.  Ten years had passed and it was time.  Faking her death was the only out available.  He’d moved on to someone else.  George had kept tabs on his activities.  It had to stop, one way or another.  It was a pact they’d made years ago.

Deftly, secretly overtly she’d made inroads into his life.  She knew what he did for a living, that he had a family consisting of a wife and two adorable boys. Together they would put together a case to end him and his vicious insanity.  Karma was a bitch.

 

 

Gray

Gray

gray mist

sunlight trees

In a world of black or white

Standing amid a bright spotlight

How I longed for midnight blue

To replace this grayed in hue

Of nothingness that surrounds

Emptiness within abounds

Erase the gray admit the light

Forever happiness shine bright

Beauty of melody encompasses me

Rainbows sunlight songs of glee

Forever held in such esteem

Never more the gray be seen

 

Sensitive #AtoZChallenge #amwriting

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Zoe was sensitive by nature.  She’d grown a hard shell of protection.  Advertising wasn’t for the feint of heart.  It took guts, stamina, intelligence, wit and knowing the difference and awareness regarding the current climate.

The banner across the stage was for her. Extolling excellence.  She’d earned it, every step of the way. Dogged pursuit of perfection along with high ideals.

As she walked toward the stage, she felt strong emotion emanating throughout the room. Zoe walked head held high, proud of her accomplishments.  Neigh-sayers could think what they wished, but she’d reached her goal honestly with integrity. No one could take that from her.

A few friendly faces raised glasses as she made her way to the stage. Some looked on with raised eyebrows. She took her place before the mike, ready to begin. A hush fell over the crowd as they eagerly waited.

Before a word was spoken, a blast reverberated through the building shaking its very foundation.  As she looked across the room, some made ready to run, others sat eyes flicking from person to person.  Some grabbed onto the hands of those nearest.

Security rushed the room.  “Stay calm, please, and follow us.” They were ushered to a nearby stairwell down three flights and through a back door.  Safely on the street, they looked back.  The building was engulfed in flames.

Zara made her way to Zoe’s side. They held hands.  “Someone planted a bomb.”

Zoe was startled. “Bomb?”

“Bomb squad is here asking questions.”

“Oh my god!”  Zoe turned white.

“What?”

“I received a threat this morning, but I didn’t take it seriously.  I thought it was someone’s idea of a prank to unnerve me before the speech.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!  Who’d want to hurt you?”

“I don’t know.  Any more than I know why.”

“I guess I need to find the man in charge.”

She made her way to the man giving orders.  “Excuse me, I need to speak with you.”

“I’m a little busy.” Irritation laced his words.

“I think you’ll want to hear this.”

He turned and looked her in the eye.  There was something familiar about her but he wasn’t sure what.  “Go ahead.”  Zoe began her story sensitive to the nuances of what she was about to devulge.

 

 

 

Zip

Zip

OAK

Rose brought a tray of lemonade out to the elderly woman sitting in the rocking chair.  she hadn’t heard Rose’s approach, but it didn’t matter, her thoughts were obviously a million miles away in another time and another place.

Rose touched her hand and Mrs. Addison’s glance turned toward her the undefined look diminishing from her eyes.  “Thank you, dear.”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Addison, my pleasure.”

“Now where were we?”  Mrs. Addison asked

“You were explaining the oak trees.”

“Ah yes, we had such zip, such pizzazz, nothing held us back.  Papa had planted the trees when I was seven or eight. I couldn’t wait to see them grow.  I’m pleased they are still here.  Such memories associated with those trees.”  Her sigh contained pleasure.

Longingly she looks back

Memories scents of lilac

Papa planting the old oak trees

She was at his side on bent knees

Oh how they would zip and run

A game of tag they’d just begun

Her first kiss under that oak

So discreet they thought to cloak

Their rendezvous camouflaged

Until papa showed up sabotaged

By her mean little sister full of tales

Following her down all the trails

Eagerly waiting to catch her slip

Holding onto bargaining chips

Indeed the tales, if trees could talk

About the lives and paths, they’d walked