Love Always

Jackson Wedding

He had fallen in love with those dark tresses first, he thought. Something about the way she moved her body as she walked by him set his soul on fire. Her hair moved in rhythm with the sway of her hips.  Her skin alabaster white and her eyes endless black pools-lit with a life affirming force. And then she spoke. “I’m new to town and I was wondering if there was a bookstore nearby. My brain is thirsty for words!”

“It’s two blocks down on the right. I can walk you there since it is getting a little dark,” he replied.

They shared the literary world and each other from that moment on. Although friends old and new dismissed their whirlwind romance at first, they soon realized that they were witnessing a lifetime love. So today, on this day, vows and promises were exchanged along with the anticipation of a new life they created from the love and pure passion of one another.

This Friday’s post is brought to you by Kellie Elmore. 

#FWF Free Write Friday: Image Prompt

September Song

credit: www.3ddigitalwallpapers.com

Stepping out into the last of an August day, I hold onto the season

Darkness descends earlier now, but a few summer sounds remain

The delightful din of the peepers, the cheerful chirping of the crickets

Families roughhousing outside

     Laughter and whooping lighting up the dusk

The sound of the Red Sox on the radio from the house next door

The lingering humidity, a heated quiet that is slowly giving way

To the rumble of school busses and children dressed in sweaters and sweatshirts

Amber sunsets which promise cool nights and mornings blessed with a chill

Wicker baskets ready for apple picking under brilliant foliage

Reminding us of the gifts from the changing of the seasons

The autumn aroma of crisp air and nighttime bonfires

        Crackle, sizzle, roar  

We ease the chill with cocoa for the young ones    

And something that brings a glow to the cheeks

And fire to the belly for the older imbibers

We rejoice this ninth month as it births its third season

In all its wondrous glory and new beginnings

Inspired by Kellie Elmore’s Free Write Friday: 

#FWF Free Write Friday: Fall Word Bank

foliage – amber – wicker – aroma – sweater – cocoa

free write friday kellie elmore

An Unexpected Present

credit: www.polyvore.com

Growing up, Christmas was a big deal in our house. My dad believed in going all out with gifts at this time of year. He grew up in a large family during the Depression.  He always remembered not getting what he wanted because money was always tight. The story goes that he vowed that his children would not have the same experience as he did.

Needless to say, the living room in our small ranch house was overflowing with gifts for my brother, mother and me.  As I am writing this, I can still picture all the gifts we received over the years. Barbies, kitchen sets, drum sets, guitars, games, clothes, toy guns and helmets (Vietnam loomed large then), bikes ( I actually rode mine in the kitchen while mom was putting the turkey in the oven!).  My dad was a huge believer in Santa Claus and insisted that he existed well into our teenage years.

But even though we were spoiled at Christmas, my brother and I never asked for anything outrageous. We were always overjoyed and appreciative of the gifts we received. One year-maybe 1975-my dad asked me if there was something that I wanted for Christmas but probably would not get.  I replied that I really wanted a stereo system but knew that they could not afford one. Rock and Roll music and FM radio were in their heyday and it seemed like everyone was listening to their stereos full blast and buying albums that featured the Stones, Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith, among others.

On December 23rd of that year, we were at my Nana and Grandpa’s apartment enjoying our annual roast pork dinner. Nana always made a special meal or shared a Christmas tradition with each of her five children.  Our time was always on this date. After dinner, my father asked me to go into the bedroom because Santa had delivered  a present to the apartment for my brother and me. Apparently, it was hidden under the bed. I pulled out a long, wrapped and somewhat heavy box. On the tag it said: “To Kim and David From Santa. Do not open until December 25th.”  My brother and I were puzzled as to what it could be. Like I said, we had no expectations at all for any big gifts.

When family and friends gathered at our house on Christmas Eve, I told my uncle about the gift.  “Don’t open it first,” he said.  “Save it for last.” He knew that my dad would be dying to see our faces right away.

We did as he suggested. Together the two of us opened the gift last on Christmas morning.  And WOW!  We were dumbfounded! An Am/FM stereo system with a turntable and two speakers!  Of course, my dad persisted in saying that he and my mother did not purchase it-Santa did.

That stereo stayed with me for many years. In high school, I listened to many of rock’s best albums on it. All of  Fleetwood Mac, Jackson Browne, Elton John, The Eagles, Billy Joel, Chicago.  I brought it with me to college and blasted Bruce and U2 ( the early 80’s albums-OMG!) and The Clash.

For me the gift symbolizes many things: Rock music at its best, memories of my teenage and college years, but most of all my father’s unconditional love.

 

This post is brought to you by the venerable Kellie Elmore and her Free Write Friday prompt:

#FWF Free Write Friday: Childhood Gift

Write about your most memorable childhood gift. Was is a Christmas gift? A Birthday gift? Was is something you really wanted or was it a surprise that ended up holding a sentimental place in your heart? What do you remember? How did it make you feel?

free write friday kellie elmore

Phone Call at Midnight

credit: www.flickr.com

Tessa had her suspicions but could never put her finger on any exact proof. Her connections in the high rolling corporate world provided her with ample opportunities to work and play with powerful men. Normally, she kept them at arm’s length, both literally and figuratively. Staying objective while covering the news of the latest takeover or insider scandal was the code by which she lived and breathed. Because of this, she earned the trust of her readers as well as the editors at the paper. It was no accident that she was the recipient of many awards for journalistic excellence. Her non-confrontational style broke down barriers and got many of her sources to confess their dirty deeds.

Tessa worked hard to keep her private life out of plain sight. Covering investigative stories sapped her mental energy and often brought her instant recognition when out in public. Shopping for herself was challenging and dating nearly impossible as many dinners were often interrupted by the ringing of her phone or her “fans”. One gray Sunday afternoon, she saw an ad on the Internet for the sale of a little cottage in Bucks County. Just what I need she thought. A place that will allow for escape from the dregs of the city and the narcissistic qualities of the people I cover. She call the number and made an appointment for the following Saturday afternoon.

It was love at first sight.  The little yellow bungalow with white shutters and a fertile flower garden exuded cheer and warmth. It had just one bedroom and bath (with a claw footed tub), a working fireplace and an open living and kitchen area. The remote setting was serene with its small sloping lawn and tiny pond stocked with fish. She also took an instant like to the real estate agent showing her the property. Jared was polite and knowledgeable- having grown up in the area as a boy. He, too, had taken to the fast paced city life for a bit but then found himself burned out after years of chasing nothing (as he put it). Now, he dabbled in house selling and renovations throughout the western part of the state. This way he could keep his hair long and his skin brown as a berry.

After the purchase, Tessa took some much needed time off from work to move into the house and do some touch-ups on the inside. She often found herself in the company of Jared during her antiquing and hardware excursions. He was delightful and they usually ended their days with dinner in her kitchen or drinks by the pond.  As the weather turned colder, she made use of the fireplace. Tessa arrived late one Friday evening to a stack of firewood on her front porch. She knew immediately that Jared had split it for her. When she called to thank him, she found herself inviting him over.

So their year long affair began. Tessa found Jared so easy to talk to-unlike so many of the men she had dated and even interviewed. He was relaxed and generous with his time and encouraged her to open up. She even told him about her latest piece-investigating a drug lord’s ties to a well known investment firm. She felt like she was getting close but was challenged by some of her sources as well as her own desire to go all out in getting answers. For the first time in years, Tessa didn’t have the zealous urge to go after a story. All she wanted by Thursday night was to head down the 101 and fall into Jared’s embrace.

And it was after one lovely interlude that Tessa found herself awakened by the sound of Jared’s voice on the phone. His side of the bed was empty. The clock on her night stand just turned over to a brand new day. Wrapping herself in a sheet, Tessa crept out of bed towards the kitchen. Jared’s voice became clear. “Don’t worry, she’ll be dead by Sunday.”

Kellie’s at her best with this week’s prompt. We got to write a story based on a list of titles she gave us!  This was fun and very different!  Go to:

#FWF Free Write Friday: Pick a Title

Marking Time

walmart man

photo courtesy of Kellie Elmore

Born through the grace and mercy of the Lord

Workin’ on Papa’s farm since my feet taught me to walk

Mama called me shy, her worried little boy

Happy to plow them fields sunrise to sunset

Got called up at eighteen to kill the commies in ‘Nam

Found myself knee deep in rice paddies

or in jungles lined with mines and leeches

Saw friends lose their limbs and lives

Lost my mind

Drownin’ in the blood left on those hills and in those huts

Red the common color in comrades, babies and women

Numbed my soul in the arms of yellow girls and in bottles of hooch

Got myself hooked on smack when the demons ruled my dreams

When the killin’ was done, they brought me home

Leavin’ me with nothin’ but the ghosts carried home in bags or draped in flags

Papa died while I was gone and Mama sold the farm

Found myself on the streets lookin’ for the next fix

‘Til the shelter took me in and cleaned me up

Spend my days workin’ the soup line and waitin’ for the clinic to open up

Livin’ and dyin’ through the grace and mercy of the Lord

Another great one from Kellie Elmore this week We wrote a story from this image that she posted on Instagram. His name is John. Check others’ out at:

#FWF Free Write Friday: Image Prompt

August Blues

Photo credit: wermsgarden.com

The sun makes one last valiant effort to shine through the mist, and for a few seconds, everything steams, yellow and gray. Then the rain sweeps in and everything is gone.

A trip back in time when this month’s beginning was her world’s ending

Bracing for the inevitable

As the storm’s clouds raged in the distance

And when it came, her body crumpled in defeat

Nights sleepless, Days motionless, Tears endless

Rifling through papers

Reading

The Destruction

The Anger

 The Deceit

      She

Collects

Gathers

Tosses

Burns

  Returns them to the Earth

 Dissipating Disintegrating Disappearing

Extinguished and Extinct

#FWF Free Write Friday: Famous Last Words

This week’s prompt from Kellie invited us to take the last few lines of a memorable book or poem and create a story or poem based on it. This quote is from the last two lines of  “Those Who Save US” by Jenna Blum (her first novel- I highly recommend reading it).

August is not a favorite month of mine and I have been thinking of ways to write about some jumbled up feelings that this month represents for me.   Kellie’s Karmic Connection has helped me sort them out a bit!

Vita da Sogno*

photo credit: www.huffingtonpost.com

“Philomena! Philomena! Why are you wasting your time chasing a sogno irrealizzable?”  Her mama’s falsetto was grating on Philomena’s last nerve. Her passion-sketching, designing and stitching women’s fashion-went against her parent’s wishes to marry Arturo, the local cheese-maker. Her plans did not include an early marriage to a man who smelled of soured milk and curds day and night.

Paris-the city of high couture- was where here heart belonged. She ran to her room and grabbed her sketch pad, charcoals and blanket. She would hide away in the olive grove and create her newest ideas. Almost as an afterthought, she took some spare coins from her dresser. The cinema was debuting a new matinee today. She could not resist the films of Sophia Loren, Brigitte Bardott or Audrey Hepburn.; women of independence and classic, sensual styles.

Philomena raced down the stairs,  ignoring her mama’s obvious exasperation (her hands on her hips and her lips in a line). She was all of these women and more-her determination far outweighing the temptation to give in to cumbersome tradition.

*dream life

Once again it is Free Write Friday via Kellie Elmore!  I wrote this while at the doctor’s office today. Feeling under the weather-kidney infection! But no matter. Imagination won over discomfort!

Here’s the link:

#FWF Free Write Friday: Word Bank

by Kellie Elmore

This week’s FWF prompt is a word bank:

blanket – falsetto – cumbersome – cinema – coins

Inspection

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Photo credit: www.skin-retreat.com

Lola was drowning. Choking. Spitting. A bucket of frigid water had been dumped on her from an opening in the shed’s roof.  Her wounds stung and her body shivered with the shock. “Breathe Deep and Stay Strong,” she told herself. Abruptly, the door flew open and two men untied her and pulled her up. She was wrapped in a white sheet blindfolded and gagged. Then the cocking of a 12 gauge. She knew that sound. As a child, she had been trained in weaponry for use in protection and hunting. Now, 20 years old and a trained Scout, she carried a  9 mm in her backpack. Lot of good it did now. The pack was somewhere in that cornfield. Lola was angry with herself for falling asleep. She hoped the pack and all its supplies would remain hidden until she developed her escape plan.

“Too bad we can’t touch her.” It was the voice of the Rifleman talking. “Yep. I bet she’d be mighty fine.” Another voice with another gun. “But you know them rules. If we ever get caught, we’d be dead on the spot. Remember what happened to Wayne.”

Unable to walk because of the sheet, the men placed her on a gurney and carried her out of the shed. Lola felt the cool air on her face. Must be late afternoon by now, she thought.The men were gruff in their movements as the path became rougher. Lola listened hard to the sounds around her. Nothing but birds. She could feel their presence along the route. No crows or vultures. The sing-song of the cardinal and the mournful coos of a dove. Oddly soothing.

“HALT!” They stopped with a lurch that nearly toppled Lola off the stretcher.The voice was commanding. “Bring her to the Intake Suite.  She needs further preparation before a final decision is made.” The route took a turn downhill. Lola was replaying the route in her mind.  Previous information from other Scouts had never mentioned an Intake Suite.

Before long, Lola heard a sliding wooshing sound as if two doors were opening automatically. She felt as if they stepped into a sterile hospital setting; she could almost feel the smoothness of the linoleum floor even if her feet weren’t touching the ground. She could see the glare of the florescent lights through the cloth that covered her eyes. Then another Woosh. Another opening and finally a room.

She was placed on a table and  they removed the blindfold from her eyes but left her gagged and wrapped. Woosh. Woosh.  “Thank you, gentleman.” The voice was melodious for a man.  “You’ve earned some time off for this catch. Tell Merle to make sure you get two days at the Saddle Club.”

The Rifleman and his companion left without a word. “Now let’s take care of the rest of you, my dear. But you cannot speak. Otherwise, I will see fit to punish you.” The sheet and cloth were taken from her body in one fell swoop. “Aah. So beautiful. Stand up and turn around.” Lola obeyed. As she turned herself, she took in the room. Sparse. One large comfortable chair at the end of the room and the table. She wouldn’t be here long. She knew that much.

“The Team will have to take special care of you. Your beauty is one of a kind. Worthy of special status. We will need to save you for just one man alone. But the Master will have the final word.”

The Master. Supreme Leader of the Restoration Party. Father of twelve sons from two wives. Believer in the fruitful multiplication of the party. Lola had a feeling she would be ripe for the picking.

Captive

Photo credit; vanitas-art.deviantart.com

Lola struggled to get on her feet. The Rifleman now had his gun pointed at her back. He was prodding and pushing her along a dusty, endless path. The birds continued to circle and call. She could feel herself bleeding. The crusty dirt on her clothes and skin. Her nose and mouth choked with the dregs of the earth. Her blonde locks withered to straw. Her shoes fragmented by beaks. Her gait off-kilter- making it appear as if she were drunk. The Rifleman wordless. Although Lola had difficulty seeing due to the heat and glare, she detected a certain grunt in his appearance and character. A putrid odor emanated  from his body. Prod. Push. Shove. They reached a small shed situated on the side of the path. He reached around her, shoved it open and threw her inside.

Lola was glad of the cool relief but was aware the worst was yet to come. She knew that this location was probably a holding center for the remnants of the Restoration Party. She had heard of these places from other scouts-those who successfully avoided capture. Lola knew that all male scouts were quickly executed and that the female scouts “disappeared”. It was rumored the Restorers siphoned off women to different locations to be used as domestics or breeders. The party was decimated during the Revolution and those few left were determined to rule once again.

She had just gotten used to the darkness when she found herself yanked up by both her arms and tied to a chair. Two burly bearded men stood on the left and right side of her. She couldn’t see them clearly but their musky odor stifled her breathing. From behind, she felt another presence reach overhead to turn on a light. Typical. A single bulb shone on her face. A faceless hand lifted her chin.  At her feet, two more hands removed her shoes.  Snip. Rip. Yank. Her clothes began to disappear. First her pants. Difficult to do while leashed, but these hands were expert. Rip. Pop. Tear. The faceless hand destroyed her shirt and brassiere.

And then-just as quickly as they appeared-they were gone. Leaving Lola covered in nothing but her wounds and the stench of men in heat.

Note to readers: this post is a loose continuation of two previous FWF Time Place Scenario posts “Underground Hope” and “The Scout”.

The Scout

Credit: Tumblr

Credit: Tumblr

Peck. Peck. Peck. Poke. Poke. Poke.  She could hardly move. The midday heat was burning her up. Lola had fallen asleep in a cornfield the night before. The cool air had lulled her into a deep sleep and she missed the sunrise.The chance to get a head start. Her two day journey to freedom was testing her endurance. Lola needed to get information to the Renewal Party about the enemy. And here she lay-prone-arms out, palms up in an offering. Peck. Peck. Peck. Poke. Poke. Poke. She opened one eye and then the other. The sun was blinding, making it difficult to see what the annoyance was. Something was tapping at both her hands. Lola tried to lift her head a bit. Even opening her mouth was impossible; it was dried shut. She began to wiggle her fingers and toes. Peck. Peck. Peck. Poke. Poke. Poke. It was getting worse. Her ears perked up at the sound of a swoosh landing at the left side of her body. Another swoosh on the right. Then the sound and pain of flesh being torn from her skin. Lola tried to scream but all that emerged was a raspy whisper in her throat. Rip. Peck. Poke. She rolled over into a fetal position still unsure as to the source of her pain and anguish. She rose on all fours and began to crawl out of the field. In her blurred vision she could see a forested patch. Then SWOOSH, SWOOSH once more. Turkey vultures! More were coming in for the kill. Except she wasn’t dead. Yet. They were poking and tearing at her back as she was slowly crawling out of the maze. Gaining strength, she began to lift herself into a crouch. And just when Lola was nearly back on two feet, she felt the icy end of the rifle in the center of her forehead. “Git yourself all the way up, woman. You ain’t goin nowhere.”

Once again, our dear Ms. Kellie Elmore presents us with a challenging and imaginative prompt for this week!

#FWF Free Write Friday: Time & Place Scenario

by Kellie Elmore

It’s high noon. Sun blazing. You awake in a field and birds are pecking
your skin… GO!