Tag: Family

Geographical Landscape 3.3: Odyssey

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction5 Comments

photo credit: spontaneouspotato.deviantart.com

His malaise became more of a burden. His words and actions were wooden. Cracks appeared in his facade. Ella did her best to provide comfort and advice but her frustration and impatience began to show.  “You need to share the wealth, Tom. With a professional. Something is not right and I am worried for you and for us.”

She was right, of course. But the act of beginning that journey overwhelmed him. He knew that he would eventually have to share the pain of his past. Never mind his current deceits. He wasn’t ready to think about the consequences of his truths.

It remained hard to say if the timing of yet another business trip was a good thing or a bad thing. Good because he could use it as an excuse to put off getting help. Bad for another reason. Would Temptation visit him a third time? Could he control himself?  This trip would take him far from home. He would leave for the West Coast site in the San Fransisco area. It would be a six week stint.  Ella could barely hide her anger. “These obligations are taking a toll on us. Each time you have come back from one of these trips in the past year,the night terrors resume. You need to tell your boss this is the last one. Time to focus on taking care of you and your family.”

He left home with a heavy heart and plunged into work. He had an outstanding reputation as a problem solver. He needed this part of his life to remain strong. By the end of the first week, he had fixed the first of a series of  issues at the site. On Friday night, he sat down at the hotel’s bar and asked for a whiskey.

He was two drinks in and about to order another when he  heard a voice behind him. “Need a bit more to take the edge off?”  White porcelain skin. Long black hair. Wearing a stunning black dress. Her eyes looked like pools of water. She placed her hand in his. “I’m Lilith.” I can take you to a place that will bring you peace.” She place a card in his hand. “Call if you are interested.” And then she was gone.

The card was plain. No name. No title. Just a phone number. The bartender gave him a knowing wink. “Great experience for those who need it,” he said. Tom took out his phone and started to dial. His mouth began to water. His heart raced. A recorded voice stated: “Thank you for calling. A driver will be ready to pick you up in 15 minutes. Please wait outside.”  He gave the bartender a puzzled look. “No worries, man. Just go.”

When he got into the back seat of the limousine, the driver opened the window slightly. Facing forward so as to remain unseen, he told Tom to put on a black faceless mask. Without thinking, he obeyed. Then they drove off.

In a matter of minutes, they arrived at a palatial residence. Secluded by hedges and a large forest, it looked over the city lights. His mask was removed once he set foot in the door. Lilith stood before him. “Welcome,” was all she said as she led him to a red-draped ante room. Six people-three men and three women- sat relaxing on the room’s fine furnishings.

An older, attractive woman dressed to match the room stood up and held Tom’s hands in hers. “Lilith sensed your need. We are glad you called.We believe in the healing powers of sensual expression. Many here come to us because they are hemmed in by society’s pressures. Our mission is provide a safe place to fill your needs, heal your pain and escape your troubles. All of us are participants in this endeavor, as we too have other lives. We fill our needs as much as you do yours. We charge no fees. We are here by choice and to enjoy one another. We do not use violence. We are selective about our members. So, if you choose to stay, you must engage in these same practices. We promise you unforgettable experiences.”

Geographical Escape 3.1: High Summit

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction4 Comments

photo credit: iappsofts.com

He was at the whim of gravity both on and off the slopes. One afternoon, after finishing work early they hiked up a ravine and skied “The Bowl” until sunset. He had never experienced skiing through the air. He wondered if he would land in one piece. At these heights, he could touch the sky. Fly into blinding beams of light. Escape his demons.

After one particularly long day spent working in Billingsworth, Tom hit the slopes alone. Accelerating into the blackness washed away the detritus of the day. When he approached the parking lot after his runs were done, he noticed a piece of paper on his windshield. “T-join me at the cabin when you’ve finished-G.”

Although he still kept a room at the hotel, he ended up spent many nights at her place. He wanted to keep up appearances. He often left the cabin in the early hours of the morning and used his card key to sneak in the back doors of the hotel.

A visit with Georgia would be the perfect end to his last night before heading home in the morning. He had come to a different level of enjoyment with their assignations. There was a raw coldness to them; nothing tender but still exhilarating.

So it was with surprise and disappointment when he saw another vehicle parked next to hers in the driveway. He didn’t know what to expect when he walked through the door.

The living area was awash in candlelight. And there, at the kitchen island, stood Georgia and another woman. They were sipping wine as he walked in.

“Tom, this is Jenna”, Georgia said. “We met through my husband.”  Both Georgia and her husband, Ian, were professors at the nearby college. She, an instructor in English and American Literature and he, an anthropologist. Georgia had explained to Tom that her husband hated the long winters and would often head to the Amazon River to conduct field research for the season. “We take a bit of a marriage sabbatical and enjoy the company of others during this time.” she told him. Keeps the relationship fresh.”

Jenna had been one of her husband’s field assistants. “Ian introduced me to Jenna because he thought that I would enjoy her as much as he once did. She is a delight”, said Georgia softly as she caressed Jenna’s face. “Take off your clothes and come watch us.”

Tom’s clothes fell to the floor. Georgia led Jenna to the soft rug in front of the roaring fire. There they stood taking taking turns peeling off  each others dresses and jewels. Jenna was the polar opposite of Georgia in physical appearance. Petite, with shoulder length blonde hair. Perky breasts. Slim waist. Delicate, nubile. A nymph.

He sat on the couch, feeling slightly drugged as he watched them pleasure one another in ways that he never imagined women could. He was captivated by what he was witnessing.

Without a word, Georgia stood and brought him to the floor next to Jenna. “See if you can top that.”  He worked his way all over Jenna’s dainty frame. He sampled her as if she were a delicacy. Her responses only furthered his will to please her.

They parted and Tom found himself moving madly to the opening in Georgia’s hips.  Her athletic strength and grip increased his own ecstasy.

The night extended into the early hours of the next day as the three of them tangled and untangled themselves two, and sometimes three at a time. After a final arousal, they fell asleep wrapped in a threesome on Georgia’s bed.

Geographical Escape 3.0: Stranded

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction2 Comments

photo credit: www.lawnow.org

It all started innocently enough.  He was approached with an offer from his boss after the holidays. “Got a buddy up in the Billingsworth region who could use your expertise for a bit. You would be in a consulting position three days a week and you’d make  top money in addition to what you make here. If it works out, I get a cut of the profit and I’ll give you a hefty raise.”

He didn’t pass it up even though it meant being away from home Sunday afternoon to Wednesday night.  Perfect timing for ski season. The area had top-notch black diamond trails.  Just the kick he needed.

And the old feeling was rising up again. He thought that he had it under control. Lauren wasn’t even a distant memory; he had convinced himself that it never happened. But then Joe had to go say something that triggered that underground tremor in him again. The four of them were out at their annual couples holiday date and Joe had raised a toast to him. “Tom, he said in a booming voice, your mom would be so proud of you. Successful businessman, husband, father and friend. You have buried the legacy of your dad.”  Tom’s face became an icy mask. He had not seen his father since he was nine. Tom’s mom had died of cancer just before their daughter was born. They had named her Louisa after her grandmother.

The physical exertion of cycling and skiing that once helped to peel the layers of hurt ceased to work. Sexual diversion with a woman he barely knew had become his new method of deliverance.

Georgia was a mirror image of him. Short black hair. Black eyes.  A femme fatale who was just shy of 40 and had a body that knocked him out.  Powerful  thighs that were strong from years on the slopes. Muscular upper back.  A brawny woman who made it clear that she was proud of her sexuality.

When she called her mechanic, he let her know that he would not be able to get the new starter until Friday. Given the timing of the repair, Tom would not make it home at all since he was back at work in s the following  Monday.  He would remain in the area for another week.

And what a week it was. There was a certain tough competitiveness to their escapades. An edginess. Like skiing on icy slopes or off the trails. Georgia was an expert skier and he found it hard to keep up with her.  And she was equally energetic and agile in the  bedroom.

She brought out a hidden determination in him.  A hardened physical desire that broke down the act into tarnished carnal lust. She was serving a need and he was hooked.

Geographical Escape 2.8: The Eye of the Storm

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction3 Comments

photo credit: www.atmos.washington.edu

Her earthy sensuality drew him to her like a magnet. He had not wanted to attend the art show opening but Joe had insisted he give it a try. Karen’s good friend, Ella, was showing her paintings and sculptures at a local but well-known gallery that night. Joe wanted another guy to join him.  He knew that Tom, his long-time friend since childhood, would not let him down.

He was surprised by the emotions her work evoked in him.  The images varied; landscapes, abstracts, etc. But it was the ones that displayed human relationships that grabbed his heart. He found himself not able to stand, so he took a seat by a window bench. From this vantage point he was able to observe the easy way she worked the room. She had a peaceful charisma about her and laughed easily. To Tom, she was the piece de resistance- a woman who possessed both an inner and outer beauty. Her auburn hair flowed onto her shoulders, her green eyes glimmered, her skin was neither porcelain nor olive toned. It exuded warmth- a place where he could softly land.

She found him there after the show was done.  “You look a bit out of your element,” she said.

“I want to buy one of your pieces,” he replied.

They had been inseparable ever since. Her calming self-assured nature provided him with a sense of peace that he had never known.  Together they created a life filled with children and solid friendships.

She still painted and sculpted in between raising the kids and creating a home. She had become active in the valley’s art community and it was there that she met the president of a nearby art college. He was impressed by her work and her leadership as well as  her promotion of the arts at the local level. He offered her a teaching position at the school and also wanted to commission her work.

As a result of this offer, Ella wanted to expand her studio space to the room above the garage. She had even gone as far as accepting a few bids for the job. Moreover, she had quickly said yes to the position. All three kids were in school full time and her schedule would easily fit in with theirs.

Tom completely supported her executive decision. His relief at not being caught helped make it easy for him. Summer ended. Fall began.  Work buzzed along smoothly. The studio went up quickly. When he had to work late, he would often find her there lost in her work. Many nights they made love on the floor amidst the spilled colors and clumps of clay. Her lips always offering words of love. Her hips like pearls of water.  Her skin once again giving him a soft place to land.

Geographical Escape 2.7: Breakwater

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction4 Comments

photo credit: www.searchlightphotography.com

A searing bile rose up in his throat. He ran to the bathroom and heaved noisily. His mind began to race. How could she have found out?  He thought that he covered his tracks. His world was about to implode.

Maybe Joe would have a clue. He inhaled deeply as he pressed the contact number on his phone. “Tom, buddy!  How’s it going out there?”  Joe answered in his usual hearty voice. “Karen and the kids and I thrilled that Ella and your brood will be coming down. And we are so excited to hear about Ella’s job offer and her ideas for the studio!”

Tom quickly shifted gears. He explained that Ella’s good news was the reason for his call. Without missing a beat, Tom told Joe that he was planning to catch the next flight home and surprise everyone down at the beach. He would probably be there tomorrow. Joe promised to keep it to himself.

With that decision, he bought himself some time. He took a long hot shower and scrubbed himself until his skin felt raw. Last night’s shenanigans, his abbreviated sleep on the sand, the strange  journey back to the motel and his recent emotional state had left him drained. He crawled to bed and fell into a deep sleep.

When he woke up the next morning, he was ready to go. He had enough clean clothes since he only had worn his cycling outfit for the past 48 hours. If his wife asked about the bike, he would just say that he stopped off at the office to get it after he landed.

He pulled into Joe and Karen’s place bursting with confidence. And there they were: his beautiful family: The boys with their jet black hair and his daughter an exact replica of her mother. Flowing auburn hair and those deep green eyes that you just lost yourself in.

He had returned to safer harbor. Or so he thought.

Geographical Escape 2.3: Nightmares

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction5 Comments

photo credit: www.lisamccourthollar.com

He was enveloped in darkness. Sitting in a dank hole. Naked and surrounded by the fetid smell of his own feces and urine. Drip, drip, drip. Something-water, maybe- kept hitting the top of his head. He got up to feel his way around. SLAM!  His body rammed against metal bars. He gripped them tightly, screaming: “HELP! HELP! HELP!”  No words left his throat. Something was attempting to pry his hands from the bars.  He kept hearing his name and the sounds of rasping breath…

“Tom, Tom, wake up!” It was his wife. She was trying to loosen the grip of his own hands on his neck. He suddenly became alert but his breathing was labored and he was sweating profusely. “You were having a terrifying dream.” There was concern in her voice. He muttered something about pressure at work. Looking out the bedroom window, he noticed that the sun was rising. Good time to clear his head with a ride. He dressed quickly, filled his water bottles and hit the road.

He refused to think about the nightmare. Instead,  he focused on the rush of riding fast and tackling the hills. For the next week, he was on automatic pilot. Rise early. Ride until it hurt. Work relentlessly. He made love with his wife each night with the sole purpose of feeling exhausted in order to ward off the fear of another dream.

The remedy was short-lived at best. He felt on edge. While work was going exceptionally well and home life was harmonious, the old churning and burning was kicking his ass. His boss was pleased with the latest project’s  completion ahead of deadline and suggested that he take an added break to spend time with his family. Tom took this as a sign. A way to remove himself once more. He had two more days at work to come up with another escape plan.

He told his wife nothing of his boss’ recommendation. He kept his bike at work on purpose so as not to raise any suspicion. When he awakened on Thursday morning, he told his wife that he was going to ride his bike on a route from the office. He took the first of two small bags with him and placed them in his truck. The following morning (still with the bike at work), he pretended to have gotten a text from his boss asking him to come into work ASAP. He took another bag with him under the auspices of another “ride” later. Just before noon, he placed a call to his wife, telling her that he had been called out to the West Coast site to fix a problem. He would need to fly out in the afternoon. No need to worry about clothes he told her. He had enough with him because he had been cycling from work.

By the end of the day, he was ready. The hard part was over. Surely a week of distraction would help cleanse the dirt from his mind and spirit. Before he knew it, his truck was moving northward once again.

Geographical Escape 2.2: Coming Up for Air

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction6 Comments

photo credit: warmnotes.com

He let out a sigh. Time to refocus. He looked at his watch: 6 AM. Good. He would drive into work and be home in time to see his wife and kids. A quick shower would wash away the remainders of last night’s  encounter. He dressed, put the note in his wallet and hit the road.  As he entered the highway a wave of nausea hit him like a Mac truck. He pulled over on the shoulder and crawled over to the passenger side of the pickup, opened the door and bent over. Must be the beer from last night, he thought.

He arrived at work earlier than usual and had a very productive day-meeting his deadlines with relish and very little pressure. He gave himself enough time at the end of the day to stop at the store and buy all the ingredients for dinner-wine included. He missed his wife suddenly and without a second thought, bought the biggest bouquet of flowers that he could find.

When his family arrived, the table was set, wine was poured and dinner was ready. They all looked relaxed after their respite on the beach and greeted him with joy and laughter. He felt good. At bedtime, the kids went down with ease-salt air does have that effect-so it was a pleasant surprise to find himself wrapped in his wife’s arms without either of them collapsing in exhaustion. She talked of their trip to the doctor’s and the home grown remedy for their daughter’s barking cough. How Karen and Joe opened up their home to all of them and of how the sea air had been a  rejuvenating experience. He listened attentively smiling inside and out. He kissed his wife tenderly and held her close. He loved the feel of her skin, the small rise in her stomach and how he could hold her breasts with his hands.  When he entered her he felt whole again.  She smelled like home.

Geographical Escape

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Flash fiction11 Comments

fwf gif prompt

Here he was again. Holed up in some two bit motel with walls so thin he almost felt like a participant with the couple in the next room.  His wife and kids didn’t even know he was gone. He left that morning for work with his bike strapped in the truck bed and somehow he found himself driving north towards the coast. The nagging feeling of suffocation walled him in once again and these excursions were his attempt at trying to cure himself. He’d done it countless times before and never told a soul.  One day he was up in the mountains riding a fifty mile stretch through hairpin turns risking life and limb just for the rush of it all. Still another time he awoke before dawn telling his wife that he was taking a half day to ski some trails before work. He arrived home past the kids’ bedtime with the excuse that he had to make up the hours. In truth he never arrived at the office.

These departures were becoming more and more frequent. He often found himself making up stories of business travels so he could be gone for days at a time. In reality, he was no more than a day’s drive away, sometimes in a backwater town and more than likely warming up a bar stool after a long day on his bike or on the ski trails depending upon the season. At times, he enjoyed the idea of sneaking away but mostly he felt guilty for removing himself from his family in such a deliberate sort of way.

But that was just about as far as he let himself think about the reasons for his behavior. Just as he was about to change his mind and leave, there was a knock on the door.  Too late now.  He let her in. Another piece he was weaving in his web of deceit.

 

This post was inspired by Kellie Elmore’s Free Write Friday.  http://kellieelmore.com/2013/07/06/fwf-free-write-friday-but-its-saturday-again/.

 

 

A Father’s Day Story

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Fathers, poetry, RunningLeave a comment

photo credit:  www.ehow.com

Hello my friends!  Since it is Father’s Day, I thought I would republish a post that I wrote for my dad on his birthday last September. Fathers sometimes get a bad rap these days but I know quite a few men who know and understand what it takes to be a good dad.  This post is dedicated to them.

Here’s the link: https://buildingalifeofhope.com/2012/09/13/happy-birthday-dad/

A First Memory

On By buildingalifeofhopeIn Childhood Memories21 Comments

photo credit:   jossarden.com

When I was a kid, we owned various models of black and white televisions over the years. In fact, we never had a color television until the last black and white one died.  My father always fixed the television on the kitchen table when the tubes blew and then it was back to business!  One of those crusty old models stands out in my mind quite well. It was tall and brown- a laminated wood sort of look-and it stood on four legs. The screen-when not on-was a murky green.

So there I was one night back in 1965, sitting on the floor with my trusty yellow blanket  and my footie pajamas watching the Art Linkletter Show. My mom was in the kitchen and my brother was elsewhere in our tiny ranch house. I was four years old and a very happy camper until suddenly the screen went blank and the house was encased in total darkness. Needless to say, I completely freaked out and ran to get my mom, leaving my blanket behind.  A second panic ensued once I did because I thought I lost my blanket! ( I totally identify with Linus, by the way). When I finally settled down, we found my brother, some candles and a flashlight.  My younger brother did not seem at all bothered by the turn of events. In fact, he appeared oblivious to the situation while I was totally anxious. My mother sat us down at the kitchen table by candlelight and served us some butterscotch pudding. I had no appetite so my little bro helped himself to a second serving with great relish. I am not sure if I was worried because we were in the dark or because I had nearly lost my precious blanket!  In any case, there was really nothing we could do so my mom sent us all (including herself) to bed. I was having none of sleeping by myself so my mom put me in with my brother in his bed ( we both had full sized) and then she joined us in the middle. I still was not satisfied and insisted that we keep the flashlight on. I can still picture it now: the three of us snug in the big bed with the big black flashlight standing upright on my brothers dresser-a beacon of hope and comfort.

(This early recollection was an actual event: The Great Blackout of 1965.)

Many thanks once again to Kellie Elmore who always has a way for us to show our creative selves at their best.

http://kellieelmore.com/2013/06/07/fwf-free-write-friday-time-place-scenario-5/