Hope’s Beginnings

This house has a story…what is it?

Image Credit: We Heart It

“Do you ever wonder what really happened in that house?”, Blake asked. They were sitting in the truck just moments after he and Julie had signed the purchase and sale on the former Stanton family property. Julie had grown up in these hills and was once close to Jeannie Stanton,  a childhood friend who disappeared one fall afternoon in their fifteenth year, never to be heard from again. Jeannie was one of seven children from that rag-ma-tag family where chaos and cracking heads ruled through the dirty deeds of their patriarch, Joe.  Jeannie’s mother was far from quiet herself, known to pull heavily on the tap at Smitty’s, the local bar where she worked serving drinks and other ‘amenities’ to the men from the local coal processing plant- long since closed and cleaned up. No one even knew for sure if all seven of the kids actually were Joe’s. The EPA finally did its job and the old brick campus had been successfully retrofitted and resurrected into  a world-class sound studio.  Famous musicians from across all genres recorded some of their best work in this forgotten corner of the state. Julia and Blake had become big hitters in attracting legendary acts to record and even stay in the area.

Blake, of course, had no idea of what to expect when he first entered Julie’s childhood world. They met in London, both working as sound engineers, honing their talent with the best of them. When Julie’s dad- an engineer and business man himself- bought up some of the old factory buildings from the government, he decided that some of them would work perfectly as recording spaces. Others he turned into research and development spaces. Soon he was attracting fervent interest from scientists keen on learning and creating new avenues into the world of sound.

On a return visit home with Blake last year, he and Julie had come across the abandoned property. Knowing its negative history had not stopped them from envisioning a place that would serve as a haven and respite for kid’s who were victims of abuse and neglect. Too many of the Stanton kids had become lost souls. Now that Julie had the means and connections to turn things around, she set her heart and mind on making it happen.

Just then, a rumbling sound came up from behind them. A fleet of contractor trucks loaded down with heavy equipment came roaring up the rough road. Blake planted  a kiss on Julie’s lips.  “Time to get to work,” she said.

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Another great gift from Kellie Elmore this week!

#FWF Free Write Friday: Image Prompt

by Kellie Elmore

Magdalena

Source: We Heart It

Source: We Heart It

She ambled out into the hush of the city’s streets,the Arctic air at once taking her breath away and filling her lungs with renewed life. The spectacular chill washed away the late night’s pungent plundering. Another evening another man.  Pure bliss coupled with an exacting need to refill that sugar in her bowl.  The dark season only increased her need for the heat of skin on skin. She liked the anonymity of it, never knowing quitewhat to expect even when she was well acquainted with her conquests. The conversation ended as soon as the key unlocked his door. She wasn’t interested in small talk or the intimacy revealed in some random deep conversation. Each encounter was a relief and a revelation, each getting their share and never once feeling used or abused.

She never liked to stay, never enjoyed the tangling of limbs and sheets in the aftermath. Never wanted to greet the day with him. She preferred a quiet exit as he lay soundly sleeping. Nights like this when the world seemed dead asleep were hers and hers alone. She could make first tracks. Listen for the squeaky crunch of her boots on newly fallen snow. Shelter  herself beneath the awning of her umbrella. Alive,silently satiated, but still simmering with anticipation, awaiting the sensual mystery of a subsequent surrendering.

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#FWF Free Write Friday: Time and Place Scenario

by Kellie Elmore

An image prompt that took off down an unexpected path. But hey, isn’t that what free writes are all about?  I am thankful once again to Kellie Elmore for helping me tend to my muse! XO

Unchartered Waters

Source: We Heart It

When he first left, she felt that she had been tossed overboard. Forced to swim against impossible currents. Paddling with one oar. Surely, she was gasping for air.  At best, she could tread water.

If she stood still too long, she could feel a nibbling at her feet. Those predators sent from the deep to test her willingness, her courage to face her darkest fear: Could she make it on her own?

Then as sudden as the tide turns with the pull of the moon, she discovered the means to propel herself through the fierce storm of waves and the deepest of  cold waters. With each stroke,  the oasis of a new beginning was within sight.

Weary and worn but never defeated, she arose from the surf. Transformed from her journey through the salty brine, she reached  the shore.  Gorgeous, with the countenance of both an Amazon warrior woman and delicate nymph, she turned and bade farewell to a life laden with lies and libel. Her new path a revolution, a revival and revelation.

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#FWF Free Write Friday: Image Prompt

by Kellie Elmore

A Free Write Friday composed on a Sunday morning. Thanks to Kellie Elmore and all the other inspirational composers for their continued support!

At Last

Credit: wallpoper.com

I remember the first time I saw you.

Walking towards me in the heat of the day.

I remember that first conversation.

Hours of intimacy, our skin pruned and blistered from the water and sun.

I remember that feeling of connection.

Immediate ease, our bodies in unconscious rhythm.

I remember the endless days awaiting your arrival.

Airport greetings, my heart leaping and skin tingling.

I remember the soft downy covers.

Sheltered from head to toe, your heart on mine.

I remember knowing we were forever.

When just the sight of you

or the sound of your voice

or the touch of your hand

feels like the first time.

Another prompt from dear Kellie that gets to the heart of the matter. In love and in life it is always the small moments that count.

Click on the link to read other talented musings!

#FWF Free Write Friday: Ponder This

by Kellie Elmore

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Sunshine Award

Nominated by the lovely poetress Annie @ http://anniesmuse.wordpress.com/

After writing and posting my 169th piece, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself nominated for the Sunshine Award! We sure could use some up here in the month of February!

So, onto the process: Write 10 facts about yourself and nominate 10 others as well.

1) I love to read and carry at least two books with me in my car daily. You never know if you’ll break down. Reading is a great thing to do while waiting for AAA!

2) I love running and have participated in the sport since I was 11. Took a break for a bit in my 20’s and love it even more in my 50’s.

3) I love yoga almost as much as running.  My yoga mat is near my desk ready for use at all times. I go to a hot yoga studio weekly and am now into my 36th straight day of doing yoga with a goal for a full 365 for this year.

4) I  also enjoy strength training but find it hard to do when my basement is 48 degrees. Plus, I spend a lot of time shoveling snow in the winter.

5) The ocean soothes my soul and it is in these long winter days that I miss it the most.

6) I make sure to see the sunrise and sunset everyday no matter where I am. The only obstacle is usually cloud cover!

7)  I love getting my hair done. For years when I was married and the mother of young children, I kept my hair very short and got cheap haircuts. That ceased about 8 years ago when a good friend of mine paid for my haircut with her hairdresser. She spent the year convincing me to grow my hair and Voila’!

8) I am grateful to be in a healthy relationship with a wonderful man.

9) My two grown sons have turned into two good men. Very little fine tuning needed!

10) No matter what life has brought to my door, I have no regrets about the choices I have made-they helped to make me a stronger person.

And the nominees are:

1) http://dorothychiotti.com/  Consistently strong writing spoken with passion from the heart.

2) http://pinkwoods.wordpress.com/ This girl can write about pain so beautifully and with true honesty.

3)  http://talichaj.com/ I love her spoken word poetry!

4) http://phylor.wordpress.com/ This writer blows me away every time!

5) http://jenniesaia.wordpress.com/ Jennie’s passionate opinions and energy ring true. I look forward to her posts all the time.

6) http://markschutter.com/ What can I say? I just love Mark. His appreciation for his life shows in all his posts and his art.

7) http://graypoet.wordpress.com/ A man with a gift for rhyme and more.

Well, I just have 7 because some of the ones I love no longer accept awards or have already been nominated for Sunshine!  Quality writers here nonetheless!

Namaste’

Just A Little Fury

Credit: lowtechgrrl.deviantart.com

WHY LEAVE ANYTHING

YOU THIEVING BASTARD?

Tammy Lynne spray-painted that question onto a piece of plywood, dragged it to the end of the driveway and leaned it against the mail post for all the world to see (well, at least the folks who screamed by in their cars and trucks along Route 481).

Tammy had returned home from her afternoon shift at the clinic only to discover that nearly the entire contents of the small cabin she shared with her husband Kevin had been removed.  He left the bed, her dresser, a few chipped dishes, dented pots and pans, the worn couch, her CD player and all of her music.

The walls were bare. All of the art work that had served as memorabilia from their backpacking trips abroad had vanished. The pieces were the only thing of value that they owned. Well, maybe the snow blower and the tools; they were gone too along with the desktop computer that Kevin’s parents gave them as an anniversary present last year. He had the audacity to even take that with him too. Luckily, she saved all of her important information on thumbnail drives. Including those friggin’ incriminating emails between him and that case manager at the hospital. Did Kevin really think she would be that ignorant not to notice how those two looked at each other at the last hospital fundraiser? He spent most of the night ignoring her. Humiliated,Tammy spent it nursing one too many drinks at the bar and fending off the paws of Kevin’s mentor, Phil Keeley. He was one of those docs with big egos and small brains who was constantly trying to get in every woman’s pants except his wife’s. Tammy was sure the night ended badly because when she woke up the next morning, Kevin was sleeping on the couch.

Good thing he had no clue where she kept her secret stash of Hendrick’s gin. The stuff was expensive and hard to find. But Bobby, the bartender down at the Newtowne Tavern, was able to score some for her last month and didn’t charge her for it. She would probably have to find a way to return the favor someday. And Tammy knew exactly what Bobby liked as payments for his good deeds. Heck, he was a hottie; she might even enjoy paying back that debt.

In fact, it was the Hendrick’s that inspired her work of art. She was two drinks down and working on her third, listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd’s  “Tuesday’s Gone” when the idea came to her. She found the plywood and paint in the shed. In her drunken stupor and the coming light, she tattooed her anger on a 10×12 sheet of pine.

*An older story that I found hiding on a piece of paper in one of my writer’s notebooks. Inspired by something I observed on a road trip last summer.

Tangled Vines

Credit: www.crystal-life.com

Greta waited until her husband was fast asleep. Then she’d tiptoe out of their bedroom, pull on her overcoat and mud kickers and practically run to the barn. She need not have worried about waking the sleeping giant next to her. Bert usually drank himself to sleep most nights. As long as she fed him three squares a day, he usually left her alone. After a full day of working the vineyards with the field hands, he only desired about six tall ones for his last meal.

Tonight, she only heard the long low whistle of the train as she scurried across the grassy path.  Franco must have sensed her arrival for he lay there waiting on a blanket in all his beautiful bareness. The tower of burlap feed sacks created a cozy and well-secluded nightly hideaway for their nightly assignations.

Franco was a brute of a man in the fields, sweat pouring from his body as he hauled and lifted these same sacks for cultivating the robust plantings along those thousand acres of heavenly grapes.  But his strength turned to tenderness when he took Greta into his arms. Their love-making was transcendent, nearly tantric in its ritual. She did not hesitate to offer herself in ways she could never have imagined; opening herself to him, discovering her pearls of pleasure. A feeling of intense vertigo, a loss of total control, near groundlessness drew them together time and time again.

They had been together long enough now to know that what they were experiencing was not fiction; not just sheer physical attraction. But until they could untangle themselves from their daily reality, this was all they had. They held onto each other and they held onto hope.

IT’S FREE WRITE FRIDAY!!

This is Kellie’s Prompt:

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#FWF Free Write Friday: Word Bank

Here is your FWF prompt:

You may use any of the following words as inspiration for your piece, or you may use all of them if it does not hinder your ability to write in free flow.

train – burlap – fiction – pearls – vertigo

Enlightenment

https://i0.wp.com/cdn.c.photoshelter.com/img-get/I00004iajZOWrFKM/s/750/750/spiritual-art-008.jpg

Credit: www.fotolia.com

The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.
Mahatma Gandhi

When I round the curve in the road, my thoughts unexpectedly go back to her and that not so long ago time when she was the “other”. The past lingers for just a moment then disappears as the road straightens and I head for home.

Each week, I return to the space that provides solace and heat. A place in that not so long ago time that seemed to call my name. The road was dark then, the route unknown. Each visit an escape hatch from pain.

Perhaps I was conceited enough to believe that he would never leave-never mind deceive. Then we became another cliché. Middle-aged man leaves wife and kids for younger woman. How trite and how true.

The knowledge came in bits and pieces. An off-handed remark made by a close relative. Phone calls saying he needed to help a friend.  Concentrated text messaging during our son’s sports game. A trip out of the country that appeared to happen as an unplanned event.

Then he said her name and it became all too real. Well, you can’t put words back in a box once they’ve been hung in the air. I felt slayed. Chopped up. Diced into tiny pieces. Shattered like broken glass. Tossed into the trash.

And then we met. Quite by accident. On a cold, dark holiday eve. A face to her name. Polite exchanges and then an awkward and quick exit.

It is hard to hold your head up when you feel like you’ve been slapped in the face. It is hard to stand up straight when you feel like you’ve been punched in the gut.

I needed to detox, to purge. So I took to the only path that would help peel the pain away. The space of healing energy and consolation.

Then she appeared once and again over time. In that sacred space. Ironically, it was easy to be gracious then; perhaps because she had cast him aside. Friends and relatives were aghast at my charitable demeanor while in her company. But it would have been too easy to take the low road. Did I really want or need to speak of him or treat her in a degrading way?

Certainly it would be simple to converse with someone in this way. Someone who had been naked with your husband. Easy to cause her discomfort or guilt. But I had moved on. Grown confident inwardly. Better to show healthy growth than to sow bad seeds.

Since then, there have been others with him. The door may have been a revolving one; and still could be if only in his mind. I need no “others”. I need only myself so that I may love and trust one other.

The sacred space is mine now. I share the energy with other souls bound for the glory of feeling grounded and balanced. We renew one another as we journey down our own paths; some curved others straight. Always honoring the light of one another.

I use memories but I will not allow memories to use me.”

Deeprak Chopra

Lover’s Creed

trust[4]

Meeting for a late night meal

Not quite strangers, Not quite friends

But something else unborn and unspoken

 

A forward movement,

                   A relevant transition,

A certain shift

resonating between and within us

 

The repast remained barely consumed

Our hearts full of anticipation instead

 

The ease at which we came to be joined

An affirmation that it was meant to be

 

The darkness deepened outside

The air breathing its long December chill

But here in this space lay newborn warmth

Eyes wide open

 Souls ready to receive

 

Two lovers sealing their covenant

A confident expectation

A credulous commitment

 

Thus, on this night,

in this blood-thin blackness

this achy, gasping vortex of interminable frost

A recollection of our whispered pact

soothes me in a blanket of torrid heat

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#FWF Free Write Friday: Trust

Just one word this week. It can mean many things can’t it? I am grateful to have it back in my life. I took  a trip down memory lane for this one. And I am glad that I still am making more with my beloved!  Perfect way to end the week.