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Post by QueenFoxy on Feb 21, 2020 19:44:01 GMT -6
1. What I Always Dreamed ~ Written by P.D. Ravel I can feel you through my skin. You are the one who dictates my feelings, the one who knows all my fears, and the one who makes me recognize that I like this man next to me. But what you don’t quite understand is that in this reality you are not the only one who dictates things and whether you like it or not, you have to understand that for things to work you have to go in sync with another heart to create the most beautiful melody. We have been through this all our life and we still don't understand each other. You say white and I say black. I say that it is impossible and you insist on continuing without sometimes realizing that you are hurting me. In the end, we hurt each other because I am you and you are me. I hurt you because I do not dare to make your wishes come true and you hurt me because you don't accept my lack of character. Sometimes I think you had bad luck when you choose me as your owner, but then I think that it was not our choice at all, it was a matter of destiny or chance. One thing I am sure of is that because of our history together, this man beside us will never feel the same way. For the same reason I am warning you to prepare yourself to listen and feel me cry because no matter how much I try to tell you not to fall in love again you decided to do it again, you decided that you would feel again what it is to have an unrequired love.
It's 11:11 am in Mrs. Cecilia's coffee house. And while I drink the best cappuccino in town I am making a wish just like every time I am lucky to look at the clock when its 11:11. I know it sounds cheesy and somewhat stupid but I've been doing it for a long time and although nothing comes true, just looking at the clock at that time gives me hope that something good is going to happen today. It is Tuesday my only day off of the week and if you are wondering what my job is, you only need to know that it consists of deciphering letters and counting pills. Don't misunderstand me I love my job; I earn good money, I can take trips, buy goodies to my dogs and have the house of my dreams. But with everything and that I need days like today to recharge batteries and what better than to do it with a cup of coffee, a good cake, and a novel by Nicole Jacquelyn.
Sitting at the corner table like every day that I come to the coffee house, the person who lately owns all my dreams enters through the door. His name is Andrew. And how do I know that?: well, the first and only day that he sat down next to me, I unintentionally spilled my cup of coffee all over him. Since then, every time we meet we make a gesture of greeting but nothing more. We don't talk at all. And despite that my heart has decided that he would be the possessor of my fantasies from now on. Today as every day Andrés orders an espresso cup with a corn cake. - Help me God I know what he orders, this is crazy- (I say in my mind). I take a deep breath and try to focus again on the task of continuing to read the book I have on my cell phone. It is at that moment that something strange happens, something that I was not prepared for.
Andrew
Looking forward I try to decipher how much longer it will take me to get to Cecilia's coffee house. Today is Tuesday and like every Tuesday since I arrived in town I try to arrive at the coffee house before 11:00 am but today it seems that luck is not on my side. And you may wonder why I am so idle to arrive. I can tell you that it is not for coffee or cake although both are the best in town. It's really to see if I'm lucky enough to meet the woman who sits at the corner table. If I tell my friends that she is the reason for my visits, they would make fun of me. They already do it but for totally different reasons. They see the fanfare with which I leave work to be able to arrive at the coffee house on time and they believe that I do it because I have an affair with the owner Cecilia who is 70 years old and continues to work in her beloved coffee house. But it is not like that, well my love is not with her but with the woman who spilled her cup of coffee the first day I met her.
She goes every Tuesday at the same time and sits in the same corner as if she didn't want to bother anyone or as if she didn't want to be disturbed. But the morning we met that table was full before she arrived so she had to sit in on of the high chair of the coffee house. I saw her the moment she entered to the coffee house and I still remember in detail what she was wearing. It was a green dress similar to the emerald color - and yes I am a man who can say emerald color - paired with white sneakers and a small purse. Everything about her is small and delicate like her. Her hair was straight, long and color amber. She wore little makeup because in reality she does not need any and her lips where color red, which made them more desirable. When she asked for her order, she looked at the corner table and seeing that it was occupied, decided to sit in one of the high chairs but the furthest from mine. I don't know what went through my mind but at that moment I decided that I wanted to know her or at least know her name so I waited for her order to arrive to make my move. When this happened I got up from my chair and approached her with my cup of coffee, she was turning her back to me looking for something in her purse when I sat down and at the moment I was going to say -Hello! - She turned and I think that because of the fright of seeing me so close she spill the coffee all over me. Among the ruckus of the broken cup, the fright of our proximity, how hot the coffee was, and the words of apology and concern that kept coming out of her mouth, our first meeting was a disaster. And if it had not been for the business meeting I had, I would have stayed there with her, convincing her that it was not her fault, and that in reality our first meeting could be one of the funniest stories that one day we could tell our grandchildren.
After that day we have continued to meet every Tuesday. Well, I really think it's me who have manipulate our meetings. That first week I came every day until I realized that she only comes on Tuesdays at 11. So I decided to do the same. She always orders a cappuccino and a cake. And when she's not writing on her computer, she's reading from her cell phone. She always dresses comfortable, she never wears too much makeup, and always has a smile for anyone who greets her. I don't know if she realizes that every time I come to this coffee house I do it for her, to see her, I don't know if she realizes how much time I spend looking at her and if she sees in my eyes how many times I have dreamed of her. But today I am late and I do not know if I will see her and that would be horrible, because if I do not see her today it means that I will not see her until next Tuesday, too many days without seeing her smile. So I am determined that if I see her when I get to the coffee house, I will sit next to her and say: Hello! My name is Andrew. 💘 ~
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Post by lostineternity99 on Feb 22, 2020 5:58:07 GMT -6
It seems they finally clicked in this coffee house yay  |
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Post by QueenFoxy on Feb 22, 2020 10:55:29 GMT -6
Seems so, Rick.
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Post by QueenFoxy on Feb 22, 2020 11:29:19 GMT -6
2. Saccharine Smiles and Sandpaper Personalities
What is the most powerful force in the universe? Is it atomic fusion, military might, volcanoes, tsunamis or any other natural disaster? No, they are not. None of them can create havoc and paranoia in man any more than love can. Yes, love is the force that is the most omnipotent. And unrequited love can destroy a man, bring him to his knees and leave him barren of affectionate emotions.
I was a bit of a late bloomer. I often stumbled and stammered my way through adolescence. I was tentative, never sure enough. The pretty girls always seemed to be just beyond my reach. As I sat in the last row of senior English class, I would look for a feel good sign. Just a warm smile from any girl would be my hopeful morning greeting. At that time Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales and Shakespeare’s King Lear weren’t relevant to me.
My studious attention was fleeting as I focused my energy on that one glowing beauty sitting in the front row next to the window. Annie was more than just a schoolgirl, she was a blossoming woman with a bit of a sophisticated flair. Her soft skin and auburn hair accentuated a sweet and quiet charm.
We were classmates, yet strangers without a voice. Our paths rarely crossed, eyes never met, surely not by design, not by choice. The girls in my class admired Annie’s true, friendly ways while every guy sought her warm embrace. Each morning, Annie stole my heart, my soul and my sense of self. And each evening my fantasies bloomed from magical reflections as a spellbound allure sealed my timeless devotion.
In the spring, I suddenly became more engaged in English literature when I discovered something that spoke to my heart. It was when my teacher brought in a recording of the Broadway show, Camelot. I can still remember Miss Grant’s initial words to us.
“Good morning class, today we are going to explore through Lerner and Lowe’s music the legends of old England. The central theme of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table have been cited in published works by such authors as Alfred Tennyson, Mark Twain and John Steinbeck.”
As I listened to the storyline, I immediately imagined myself to be the charming, derring-do Sir Lancelot and Annie would be my Guinevere. What a long shot! Like an artist’s palette, Camelot colored my horizons in bright rainbow hues. Those enchanting tales certainly snagged my attention. However, I just couldn’t harness my emotions and squelch foolish fears. I only wish I could have found the courage to be like Lancelot and be able to speak those carefree, unforced romantic lines.
I shared my emotional feelings with my best friend Phil. He was the one person that I could confide in without being ridiculed.
“Phil, I think I’m in love with Annie.”
“John, you’re crazy. You are not in love, you are just infatuated.”
“Call it what you want but I know exactly how I feel.”
“How the hell can you be in love with Annie if she doesn’t even know that you exist?”
“I can’t concentrate on anything, I spend my whole day thinking about Annie.”
“Snap out of it. Your fantasies are just stupid fantasies. If I didn’t know you better I would think you are tripping on some wacky drugs or were smoking weed with the Harrison Avenue boys behind the diner on Market Street.”
“No drugs or weed for me, I’m hooked on her emerald green eyes and glossy, rose colored lips. Oh and another thing, I’m dazzled by Annie’s bright smile.”
“You are hopeless. Let me give you some advice. Those green eyes may capture your soul with a sweet, gentle charm but they are cause for alarm and beware of those saccharine smiles of hers. They just might be attached to a sandpaper personality.”
“You are all wrong about Annie. Have you seen her up close? Her eyes twinkle when she is smiling and she is always laughing with her friends.”
“That’s just it. You are not in her circle of friends, you are in the outer limits. If high school were like the Modern Bakery on Sunday morning, you would be last in line. When we graduate in June you still won’t get to the front of the line.”
“You are probably right, but I’m still holding out hope that we will meet.”
“Look at it this way, Annie might seem sweet but she could be rough on the inside, maybe even a real bitch. I think you should focus your attention on someone that will give you a chance.”
“Oh, like fat Mary?”
“Mary is not that fat, it’s just that she is not as slim as the other girls. She does have a pretty face and I heard that she is easy.”
“You can have Mary, I want Annie.”
Every succeeding day was a page in a book, the journal that I kept beside my bed. I would put my frustrations aside, hopeful that buoyant themes would transcend. My emerging chapters were short of bold orations, just life’s vignettes which I had hoped to someday comprehend. Reality became clouded as I engaged in dangling conversations with myself. I would become short of breath and in need of liberation’s fresh air. ~ ~ |
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Post by lostineternity99 on Feb 23, 2020 7:01:30 GMT -6
This is well written but the guy is heading for the loony bin if he does not stop fantasizing about Annie  |
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Post by QueenFoxy on Feb 23, 2020 9:38:35 GMT -6
LOL!! I think you are right, Rick.
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Post by QueenFoxy on Feb 23, 2020 9:50:46 GMT -6
I was always the dreamer. I couldn’t marry emotions with actions, always wondering why a life that was colored with treasured, mirthful melodies would also be framed by regret’s hollow lows. I was always a bit hopeful that yesterday’s dreams could forge tomorrow’s memories. It was my wish to savor contentment and bask in sunshine’s cheerful glows before my capricious thoughts slid precipitously away, fleeting like a cool breeze on a sweltering dog day. For me, happiness was a solitary walk along the river next to Rt. 80. While sitting under my favorite maple tree, the sounds of the traffic above were drowned out by the slow moving murky waters. It was just me, a few ducks and a school of carp enjoying a bit of peaceful coexistence. For that moment, no longer did I have to fight to keep my head above rejection’s line. My head was clear and temporarily free of mindless and disturbing graffiti. Some of those slick idioms were engraved on the school’s bathroom stalls and the walls of the vacant warehouses that stood end to end along the railroad tracks of my working class town. A mixed bag they were: “Sorry about your wall.” “Another wall ruined.” “The wind blows through the trees, but Mary blows best when she is on her knees.” “Tag this MF!” “Mary is easy” “Question everything.” “Why write when you can tag.” Rejection I feared the most. It often scared me out of my wits. My self-confidence was slow to develop. Leaving for college was my reveille. No longer was I stuck in a stifling cocoon in the only house that I had called home. Now on my own with no dreadful parental rules; to self-doubt I became immune. College gave me an opportunity to build a bridge to tomorrow and script a unique set of goals. Through the succeeding years I sometimes struggled to establish roles but still remained steadfast about my aspirations. The odyssey to genuine romance was always my chosen destination. Searching for love was like learning the ballet, you could frequently fail at being graceful and fall down more than you thought possible. The aches and cramps in your feet and legs made it hard for you to get back up but you did it again and again. A combination of hot ice, Motrin, Tylenol or Advil helped to make the soreness go away. But the aches and pains in your heart from love affairs gone badly never seem to leave you. There are no over the counter cures for a broken heart. The key thing is not to be fenced in by heartbreak, convince yourself to get back up and leave despair in yesterday’s wake. Regretfully we dwell too much on mistakes we’ve made but life moves too fast and there is no time to snooze. Experience helps us better understand what plays in our head. Our crazy adventures helped to document the paths our feet have tread. I often wondered where Annie had traveled and what did she experience? Did she ever find her way to the crossroads of love and passion? Did she make the right choice, the one that was best for her? Thirty years later at our class reunion, our paths finally crossed. The room was crowded and there was a very warm, festive feeling in the air. The hugs and handshakes all felt sincere. Most of us were content with our family life and settled into our careers. We were at peace with ourselves and we didn’t have that competitive edge that we would have eagerly unveiled if this were a ten year reunion. Time truly does temper those energetic spirits we would have displayed in our younger years. After I snaked my way through the crowd, I walked up to Annie and introduced myself. “Annie, you might not remember me but we were in the same English class our senior year.” “Oh, I remember you. You were that cute guy who sat in the back of the room. You were always so quiet.” “The only person that ever told me I was cute was my mother but thank you anyway. I must say that you look fantastic.” “I think you need glasses, I have a few extra pounds and if you look close you might see a silver strand or two in my hair.” “I have to be honest with you, back in high school I had the biggest crush on you but I was too shy to approach you to even start a conversation.” “That is so sweet. Now it’s my turn to share something from those days. I was also very shy but I managed to get through it by surrounding myself with a clique of close friends. They helped me navigate that uncomfortable social maze.” “Annie, it took me years to gain confidence and develop some social skills and I’m still working at it.” “You’re doing fine. Once I left the safety net of high school I experienced pains of emptiness. I was so busy trying to taste all of the lush fruits of life that I never appreciated the gentle nature of people who really cared for me as a person. I just couldn’t find that one man who made me feel complete and give me a sense of self-worth.” Now was the time to take that chance and ask Annie to dance. As I held Annie in my arms she whispered to me, “Why did it take so long for you to ask me to dance?” Annie’s tender words tossed me into a reverie of poetic themes. Together we spirited a moment as Chicago’s “Color My World” echoed in the hotel’s ballroom. From my past, a wondrous friendship has been born. My cherished memories will no longer seem so forlorn. A lifetime of living has taught me that people come into our lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime. Annie was a short but sweet season. The End ~ ~ |
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Post by lostineternity99 on Feb 24, 2020 6:06:59 GMT -6
A really nice ending to this story 12
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Post by QueenFoxy on Feb 24, 2020 17:27:06 GMT -6
3. When or Where The front doorbell sounded its gentle Westminster Chimes and the thumping on the door started before Hazel even put her pen down on the papers she was working on intently. More curious than annoyed, she stopped writing, shrugged and started for the door.
Hazel was put together well in both mind and body. Her toned physique, attractive high-cheeked face, sharply sculpted short blond hair wasn’t frightened by many things. She was more interested in what was happening so noisily at her door. The banging was continuous and, as she crossed the gleaming hardwood floor of the foyer, now a voice joined in which she knew well, Charles Braswell, the husband of her friend, Sally.
She opened the door just as another beat was about to thump her door. The cold wind blew in. "Well, hello, Char…"
"Is Sally here, Hazy?" Charlie’s face was a map of hardly controlled anger. His tall thin-running-to-soft body seemed rigid with tension, his camel-hair car coat open and blowing in the wind.
"I’ve asked you not to call me Hazy."
"Where’s Sally? I’m looking for Sally."
"I don’t know, Charles." Hazel held her spot in the cold entrance, her hand fixed on the broad, heavy door to prevent any move to come through.
"Don’t call me Charles. It’s Chuck." A clipped, crude remark.
She tilted her head with a slight smirk. "Well, don’t call me Hazy. It’s Hazel...Chuck. -Zel, -zel, =zel."
"What’s the difference, for crying out loud?"
"Hazel is the color of those beautiful eyes of Sally’s. Hazy is how your eyes get after the second Martini."
"Oh, you're always so clever. Where’s Sally is all I want to know. She’s always with you."
"No need to raise your voice. And ‘yes’, we like each other. That’s why we’re friends. But she’s still not here."
Charlie ran his hands through his hair which he must have been doing a lot. It was such a mess. "Geez! Everything’s a wreck."
"How, a wreck, Charlie?"
He spun around on the porch as if he didn’t know where to look, his hands floating around, his coat spreading with the cold wind. He was a picture of exasperation. "Everything. This has gone far enough. She’s not home. There’s no dinner ready. Beds aren’t made. The doors weren’t locked, for god sakes. She didn’t even pick up my shirts at the cleaners. Everything!"
"Did you call the police?"
"I don’t know. And tell them what? And then have her come waltzing in the door."
"Were you fighting?" Hazel almost said ‘again’. His silence meant that he was at her – again. She wanted to clock him right there on the front porch. Beautiful Sally. Yep, she had those mysterious hazel eyes. That slightly Asian looking face and a figure to die for. And a brain that could fascinate someone for hours on end. An intelligent someone. And stupid Charlie was worried about his shirts. He should be thinking of a warm night on a veranda in Mexico with strumming guitars, stars in a midnight blue sky…..and Sally explaining love and marriage to him, while the candles flickered in a gentle sea breeze. "Maybe she’s working on the boat."
"The boat's not there. Gone."
"Maybe she took it out. After all that restoration she’s done, she has to try it out. That’s the professional thing, Charlie. You know she’s practically famous for exacting restoration on boats. And she loves to do it. And she loves to be on the water."
"I’m almost famous, too. I married her to get her away from all that nutty stuff. Scruffy dockyards, oil slicks and orange peals floating in the water." He growled angrily. "She has my whole house to take care of. That’s all she has to do, that’s her job. How does she look at the country club with her hands all stained with dirt and paint?"
Hazel stayed cool and gazed at Charlie still looking and turning on the porch. If he’d had a hat, he’d be twisting it in his hands. "Do you have any idea how rare her talent is, Charlie? A real talent that people from all over the world want. She could do restorations on any one of the continents."
"That's a lot of bull." Charlie was facing the street, not moving. "Her talent. Hah!"
"Yes, her talent." Hazel's voice took on a sharp edge. "She loves it. It's her art, her profession."
Charlie spun around, his face crimson with rage, his nose an inch from Hazel's and shouted, "You promoted all this stuff. Her art? Her profession? I'm her profession! Me!" He pounded his chest. "Yes, Hazy, me!" Stay tuned ~ ~ |
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Post by QueenFoxy on Feb 25, 2020 9:56:09 GMT -6
Bump
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Post by lostineternity99 on Feb 26, 2020 5:56:17 GMT -6
Wow ... Charlie is a clueless jerk |
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Post by QueenFoxy on Feb 26, 2020 12:06:52 GMT -6
Agreed!!
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Post by QueenFoxy on Feb 26, 2020 12:14:23 GMT -6
Hazel stared him boldly in his angry eyes as she backed away a step and moved her hand to the door handle, ready to close him out. "Who do you think you're shouting at, Charles? Some nobody. Or is everyone a nobody...but you? That's it isn't it, Charlie? Jealousy. Sally's little hobby has turned into big business, huh? She's getting it all, isn't she? Doing her art all over the world, fame and even fortune." Hazel gazed at him as her words tore at his angry agitation. "Jealousy, Charles, huh? And you know what else she gets? Respect, Charles, respect for her talents, respect for being Sally." "Tell me where she is, Hazel. I think you know. Your best friend forever wouldn't do anything unusual without telling you, would she? The boat's gone. Where's Sally?" Hazel looked at him while she decided what to do with this wild man. God help Sally. How to do it? "Okay, I'll tell you." He stood with his hands shoved into his car-coat pockets. "Maybe I can get some supper tonight. So, where?" "She's on the boat." "What the hell is she doing on the boat?" "She's sailing to Ireland." For a second Charles was frozen, mouth half open. "Ireland! In Europe?" "Yes, Charles. That one. That's the true story and you're stuck with it." "Oh, yeah! Well, we'll see about that. I can get there before she does. I'll be waiting when she lands. I'll fix this...and I'll fix her, too" "You might have a long wait. She said it's sturdy ship, but a slow boat." Charles swung away and went down the steps two at a time. Hazel added as he climbed into his car, "And it's all about your shirts.....Chuck...ee, babe." Hazel closed the door, walked to the bottom of the second floor staircase and looked up. * * * The sensuous touch of skin against skin was enhanced by soft music of the guitars at the far end of the veranda and the gentle feel of the warm aromatic breeze. Under the star-filled night sky the hushed rush of the Pacific Ocean against the Mexican shore touched the evening with a promise of subtle excitement. They shared a luxurious double lounge, body to body with their fingers entwined. Low tables on each side held the empty glasses of their last round of margueritas. A half-roll toward each other and they were face-to-face with their bodies pressing, their ankles entwined and their lips an inch apart. Another drink?" "No. A kiss." "Is this what you wanted?" "Better than a dream." "Not Ireland?" There was a little teasing in the question. Sally smiled a slow contented smile. "No, Ireland doesn't come close. It's far, far away. All of that, far away. Hold me tight and kiss me again. A long kiss." They finished face-to-face, their lips still touching lightly. "You lit a hot fire in me when I first saw you, Sally. And your piercing look, those hazel eyes." "My hazel eyes. These hazel eyes couldn't stop watching you." "And this is our life now. You and me. No Ireland, no shirts." Sally wriggled closer, seductively. "Chuck all that." "Cute choice of words," said Hazel. And so ends this little love story. ~ |
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Post by lostineternity99 on Feb 27, 2020 6:52:32 GMT -6
This happy ending was not a surprise ... whatever happened I was going to be happy as long as Charlie did not get his way |
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Post by QueenFoxy on Feb 27, 2020 12:02:41 GMT -6
Me too. Charlie was a real Klutz.
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Post by QueenFoxy on Feb 27, 2020 12:29:57 GMT -6
4. A Monument to Perfect Moments
His soul was bid, the beginning was near. Brice Connelly had a dilemma, appointment and summon conflicted. He relocated, the sensation tapered, his fervor intensified. Reversing direction he tried to reacquire the target. Heavens light struck him with a blinding flash; the shimmer of long lustrous tresses cascading over shoulder and back swayed in the poetry of soft and supple curve. Carrie Sands, waitress, doctoral candidate and daughter of Aphrodite, stopped in mid-sentence while going over the daily specials with an elderly couple who sat at her table. Something undeniable beckoned her. Such feelings had called at her in the past but never had they called for her, this time they did. The gentleman at the table noticed her inattentiveness and politely asserted himself to regain her attention.
“Ma’am.”
The man’s wife, motioned to him for silence and spoke to Sands.
“Go ahead dear.” She nodded toward the man looking their way. The women exchanged smiles that only women can know. “Dearest.” Said the older woman as she gently placed her hand atop that of her husband and motioned in the direction of the man in the cowboy hat. The husband understood, their years together had gifted them the ability to communicate solely with passions’ presence; in them they saw themselves.
Sands turned and Connelly leapt into her charm. Dark lashes and perfectly spaced jovial eyes added a note of remarkable severity to her flawlessly shaped button nose. Her slender face framed a smile that could do no less than capture hearts and cure ails. Her perfectly pouting lips were the contour that the most beautiful of flowers dared aspire to, downs softness was measured by and a spring mornings dew wished to caress; they were passion’s color. When she smiled her cheeks dimpled and her eyes lit up, she was the light and muse by which a fortunate might experience purity.
Two lifetimes of searching, wishing, wondering and waiting were suddenly…unexpectedly…complete. The vast space in their hearts reserved for that special other quickly filled with sunshine, rainbows, flowers, singing birds, free pizza delivery, cool clear water, fresh baked bread, clean sheets and the knowledge that the loving hand that would caress ones face on his or her last day was near. Each had found their other, the quiet awe surrounding them said that everyone else knew it too. Chivalrously Connelly removed his hat and they exchanged knowing smiles, there was honest perfection in it. Connelly politely nodded toward the table, Sands understood, completed her task thanked the couple for understanding and excused herself amidst two of the best and most sincere wishes for luck she would ever receive. The women exchanged glances, both knew it was only a polite formality and that luck had nothing to do with it; it was a woman thing.
“Sands studied him, smiled, and introduced herself.
“Hi, I’m Carrie Sands.” She stroked his forearm.
“Ma’am, my name is Brice, Brice Connelly and I am pleased to meet you.” In pause and awe, while gazing into each other’s eyes, simultaneously they pronounced “Finally” and laughed.
“Miss Sands…
“Carrie, please.” Interrupted Sands.
“Carrie, darling…” he was lost in her eyes and the moment. “I have business inside of the bar, if you’ll allow I promise you’ll have my full attention when I am done.”
“Certainly, my shift will end when you are ready Brice.” Both were tenacious in their duties and accustomed to hardship but that parting was probably one of the most difficult things either ever had to do, the knowledge that they would soon revel in each other’s company helped a little, not much, but it helped. Sands watched him walk away, He moved with undeniable soldiery purpose, power and aplomb.
“You haven’t always been a rancher have you?”
“I have done a few other things in my life, when I return I’ll lie about ’em a bit if you’ll let me.” She laughed, her eyes lit up and her dimples dimped; Connelly’s heart soared.
“Okay, but don’t keep me waiting too long.” Said she teasingly.
“Well we’ve waited this long, so yeah, I won’t.” They shared a laugh as he left.
On Connolly’s return social convention dared not issue formality so he and Sands fell into one another, a soft tender embrace, a fit so perfect neither was sure it was real, they didn’t hold one another, they became one and there they stood as a monument to perfect moments.
“Wow” whispered Sands.
“Wow indeed” replied Connelly. Embarrassed at having committed a public display of affection Connelly blushed. Sands thought it charming, familiar and perfect. Sensing that was the moment to establish herself in the relationship she locked his arm with hers steered him to the bar and ordered a pair of beers with unsweetened iced tea wingmen.
“How did you….never mind.” They laughed in their adoration for one another as it was the sort that aroused the pure of heart and tormented poets in their pursuit of prose worthy of whispering loves elation. Sands examined his hands, placed hers into his and melded with him.
A quiet cozy booth in a dark corner might have sufficed but that was far and away and not now, too many moments had gone missing and neither dared move lest the present be wasted and be forever lost. Neither had any doubt that from now on they would go as one.
They embraced and each took their last breath of incompleteness as their hearts began to synchronize in rapture. Sands closed her eyes, reveled in the moment and hugged him without thought of release. He was bound by the strength of tender curves and she by the robust musculature that held her lovingly. Together they were the muse for flawless embrace.
“Carrie, darling Carrie…Connelly paused; savoring the words, savoring the sound of her name.”
“I intend to always be that Brice.” Whispered Sands as she kissed him and jump started his life. Connolly barely heard her, the tenderness of her lips…of their first kiss…there were no words!
Connelly peered deep into her eyes and factly stated “I’ve loved you all of my life, I was just never fortunate enough to have met you until now.” The words came naturally, matter of factually, a greater truth had never been told.
Sands gasped, placed her hand over her mouth and her eyes welled.
“My god Brice I was just thinking the same thing.” Connolly saw it in her eyes, he knew it to be true. He looked at her and smiled, his heart warmed, his soul glowed.
“What?” Sands asked of Connolly.
“Us.” Said Connolly.
“Yes, us.” Agreed Sands. Her voice was angelic.
“Miss Sands you know that we are obliged to engage in the subtleties and customary rituals of courtship don’t you?”
“I do Mr. Connolly.” Connelly took a pull from his beer, then another not wanting to be too forward with her.
“You’re mulling it over aren’t you?”
He knew she knew.
“You know that I am” he said grinning without looking up.
Sands reached over and took his hand.
“Sweetie it’s me, part of us…”
“The best part” interrupted Connelly.
“Thank you, look, the sooner we get through the awkward part the sooner we’ll be on our way.” Stay tuned for more ~ ~ |
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Post by lostineternity99 on Feb 28, 2020 6:04:01 GMT -6
This is incredibly romantic ... I am staying tuned  |
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Post by QueenFoxy on Feb 28, 2020 8:58:52 GMT -6
It sure is, Rick.
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Post by QueenFoxy on Feb 28, 2020 9:25:26 GMT -6
“I know and I know that you know I have waited for this…for you longer than you have waited for me, I surely don’t want to mess it up.” “Brice, do you think I would allow that?” Connelly laughed ever-so-knowingly, took another pull and replied. “No, I don’t believe you would…I have a suite here at the hotel, would you mind carrying on this conversation there or would you prefer someplace more public.” He turned bright red and she choked just a little, she covered her mouth and laughed, she had no doubt that this was not the first time he had invited a lady to his room but this was different because to him she was, then it occurred to her it was not the first time someone had invited her to their room either, it was just the first time she was going to go. She sensed that he knew it too. “May I bring a chaperone?” Joked Sands. “If that’s what it takes, fine by me.” Mouth agape, her eyes welled, he didn’t miss a beat, he was serious; she caressed his forearm. Quick as a whip Connelly tossed a hundred on the bar. “That’s an awful lot for a pair of beers.” “It was a prime feed and the waitresses here are cute.” “Fancy anyone in particular?” “As a matter of fact, yes, but you’ll do. Sands slapped his arm and laughed causing his heart to skip a beat or three. He kissed her and she gasped in acceptance and mutual surrender. Connelly took her hand, a bit awkwardly, and his place beside her and smiled devilishly. Sands knew he was more than a man of the land and wondered if this was the place where they fell in love or if it was loves’ place, “whichever it is, we were purposed here.” Thought Sands. “Hold hands much?” She asked teasingly as they started to walk. Connelly paused and said “Not since high school.” “What happened?” “I went to college, joined the Army, she married someone else.” “Still hurt much?” “Yeah, some.” “I’m sorry.” “Thank you, and thank you for…for.” “For what?” “Making the hurt go away and thank you for being you.” “Oh, you got it bad Connelly.” Teased Sands. “Yeah I do…love you so much it hurts.” “Already?” “Always.” Sands gasped and wiped away a tear, he drew her closer.” “What about you?” Asked Connelly. “What about me?” “Break ups, divorces, done time in prison?” She laughed and lightly slapped the back of his leg. “Never been married, no boyfriends, had a few dates…school has been my life.” Connelly could not help but notice the way she said “school has been my life” Something there was problematic. “Is your thesis controversial?” Connelly felt her grow angry and hurt…he could feel what she felt! “Yeah, I got it bad.” “You know of my thesis?” “Well no, but your smarts are like your pretty, you can’t hide them sweetie. I didn’t just take you as some dumb good looking blonde.” “I’m a brunette.” “See I told you it couldn’t be hid. Before this goes any further let me ask, you won’t mind keeping company with an illiterate will you?” Asked Connelly. “Maybe, know one?” “Me; I only have a Master’s Degree.” “Well…I’ll talk real slow and use small words.” “Stupendous! Then can you teach me how to tie my shoes?” “You’re wearing Cowboy boots!” “Oh, I really need you.” “Need me? Don’t you want me?” Teased Sands. “Yeah, bear with me and I’ll spend the rest of life trying to explain how much I want you.” They stopped their promenade and Sands looked into Connelly’s eyes and asked “Is this where this is going?” “From the instant I got wind of you.” “I felt the same thing.” “Pheromones!” Both laughed at once. “Are you sure it isn’t lust?” Asked Sands. “Well there is a little bit of that, have you seen you?” “Stop!” Exclaimed an embarrassed Sands, who had always been self-conscious of her good looks. “Carrie, I have to tell you, life is full of disappointments but seeing you for the first time was the furthest I ever been from it.” “Yeah, you put some distance between me and it too, but don’t let it go to your head.” “Is my heart enough?” Sands gasped and teared up, they walked in silence. “We’re here.” Sands kissed him as he unlocked the door and held it open for her. “Can I get you anything?” “Yes, you over here” said Sands patting the cushion next to her. He sat and pulled her to him, she snuggled up as if they had been practicing for years…the fit was perfect. And that is the beautiful end of this fantastic love story. ~ ~
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Post by lostineternity99 on Mar 1, 2020 6:09:51 GMT -6
It truly was a fantastic love story |
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Post by QueenFoxy on Mar 1, 2020 15:23:12 GMT -6
You know me. I love a beautiful lone story....or....poem. 💘
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Post by QueenFoxy on Mar 1, 2020 15:40:41 GMT -6
5. Bones Park here,’ Leo said, ‘We’re early and I’d like to sit in the sunshine for a while.’
Michael parked the car in one of the empty bays and went to purchase a ticket. When he got back to the car Leo was standing by the door grinning broadly. 'See!' he said.
‘You’re holding on to the door,’ Michael said, ‘You're cheating.’
‘Huh.’
Michael walked round to Leo’s side, gave him his arm, shut the door, and they walked together to a nearby bench. Leo sighed as he sat down, resting himself against the back of the seat, his cool fingertips seeking out the warmth of Michael’s hand. They sat quietly, Leo with his eyes closed, letting the sun shine through the paper-thin skin of his eyelids.
‘What can you see?’ Michael asked him.
‘Pink.’
‘How do you feel?’
‘Fine,’ Leo said, ‘Really, fine. Just a bit tired, you know.’
‘Yeah.’
Leo said, ‘You don’t think we should be doing this, do you?’ and when Michael leaned over and kissed him on the side of his cheek he said, ‘You don’t think there’s any point.’
He opened his eyes. ‘Do you?’
Michael smiled, shook his head.
‘Just stubbornness, on my part, I think,’ Leo said. ‘Just seeing it through to the end.’
‘Remember that time,' Michael said, 'when I asked you, if a runaway truck mounted the pavement and was hurtling toward you, would you get out of the way?’
Leo laughed quietly, ‘And I said, No. I’ve got right of way.’
Michael smiled at the memory, ‘You are stubborn.’
‘We’ve had some arguments.’
‘More than some.’ He checked his watch.
‘How long we got?’
‘Plenty.’
‘I’m not quick on my feet at the moment. Not like I used to be.’
‘I’ll give you a head start.’
Leo sat enjoying the sun for a while longer, then he said, ‘Put your arm round me.’
‘Cold?’
‘No. Well, a bit, maybe.’
‘Ok.’
He wrapped his arm around Leo’s thin shoulders, pulled him closer, fixed his woollen hat closer round his head. ‘That better?’
‘Mmm.’ Leo rested his head on Michael’s shoulder. ‘I never thought it’d be like this,’ he said. Then he said, ‘It feels good.’
‘Does it?’
‘We have souls, you know.’
‘So you keep telling me.’
Then he said, ‘What you going to do, without me?’
‘Don’t keep saying that.’
‘I’ll miss you. And I’m sorry.’
Michael stayed quiet, biting his lip a little, willing away the tears. ‘Don’t. Please don’t apologize.’
‘I haven’t always been kind to you. I’ve been demanding.’
‘It’s alright.’
Leo shifted to get comfortable, pushed closer to Michael. ‘You’ll feed Spud? Take him for walks?’
‘Every day. Yes.’
Leo shuddered. A long sigh.
Michael pulled him a little closer, said, ‘Maybe we should get a playmate for Spud. It’s cruel to have a dog by itself in the house. I’ll get Triona to come by twice a day, walk them both. Or maybe I’ll cut down my hours at work. Won’t need the money if you’re not spending it all on stupid toys and clothes and holidays.’ He laughed to himself. ‘Maybe sell up, buy an old VW. Travel.’
Leo relaxed in his arms, his head a soft weight, eyes closed, his face gently creased against his shoulder. Michael straightened the edge of his hat again, tender. His breath caught and sobbed, just once. ‘You’ve gone then?’ he asked, voice soft.
Then he sat for a while, staring ahead.
After a few minutes he moved to let Leo lie down on his side, pulled his legs up onto the bench, knees bent, arranged his body neatly, patted his clothes straight and rested his face on his hands. He stood back, looking down at Leo, and his brow knitted, his mouth formed a rictus of silent grief. ‘You didn’t finish the treatment,’ he said, ‘I thought you saw things through to the end. I thought you were the stubborn one.’
Then he said, ‘I love you, you know,’ to Leo’s quiet form. ‘I love the bones of you.’
And he knelt on the ground beside him, fingertips touching his face, his silent tears falling onto Leo’s cool skin. The End ~ ~ |
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Post by lostineternity99 on Mar 2, 2020 6:44:06 GMT -6
Such a sad love story.
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Post by QueenFoxy on Mar 2, 2020 11:58:14 GMT -6
Touched my heart too, Rick.
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Post by QueenFoxy on Mar 2, 2020 12:13:25 GMT -6
6. Sunny Souls I have fond recollections of my high school years roaming the hallways with my best pals and their gals. We all thought that we embodied the right stuff or whatever that mindset was. We were all proud, cocky and cool and never wanted to be labeled pretenders without a purpose. We were all too young to grasp the concept that a beautiful soul could be more fulfilling than a curvaceous silhouette. During our senior year when we were kings, we boasted that life would be grand and our dreams would turn out exactly as planned. We snarled at pesky problems and laughed at silly escapades while hoping our deepest secrets would never be betrayed. One April night, Pegasus descended and my life took a euphoric turn. I lost my bravado and all sense of reason. I cast my eager eyes on a scintillating soul wearing faded, tight jeans and a bohemian cotton gauze blouse. Her hair was soft and flowing, framing skin smooth as butter. Every step she took was gracefully fluent and as lite as freshly whipped cream. Her sparkling smile from her ruby red lips sent shivers down to my hips As I approached her, our eyes connected at once in a warm and welcoming way. I began to shyly grin and nervously queried, “Hi, a nice night, isn’t it?” She quickly replied, “Yes it is. I’m on my way to the library, my name is Annie, what’s yours?” I stammered for a moment and noticed a warm expression on her cheerful cheeks which quickly put me at ease. “My name is John.” In my hopeful heart she immediately captivated my attention and wondered if she would became my fair lady. Suddenly, Annie grasped my hand and my heart began to pound and quiver, hastening charmed feelings to explode in a kaleidoscope of bright colors. Brilliantly vivid and exquisite images electrified my entire essence, leaving me winded and weak from my head to my knees. Stumbling on happiness, we agreed to meet for lunch the next day. On my budget, our tray of burgers and fries was deemed gourmet cuisine. After sharing the last fry, I whispered softy, “wait until dark, we’ll go to the park.” We spread our blanket under the stars on our patch of parched grass. Static sounds from a weak AM station emanated from my made-in-Japan transistor radio. My mind and body were in concert, both floating on airy emotions. All the president’s men could not relax that heavenly embrace of those twilight picnic partners. On a May, Sunday afternoon a distinctively clear sky, bright blue in hue enveloped our bedroom community. In the town square couples often strolled past the courthouse. The courthouse was framed by granite Doric columns and it was adorned with a large Seth Thomas clock. It anchored the highest point of the town square. It’s chimes reverberated hourly, emitting ringing signals heard by all inhabitants from Main Street to the hills on the west side of town.. Obscured in the undergrowth of hedges and shrubs, this loving couple exchanged warm, gentle embraces. I picked some lilac from the courthouse garden and fastened it tenderly to Annie’s flossy, golden hair. On that day she may have been a flower child for a moment, but she soon became more than a woman for me. Some say that the world is a vast landscape, where rivers, valleys and mountains frame our horizons. I preferred the sanctuary of empty meadows. Their pastoral refuge was a reprieve for me from the noise of parent’s shrill voices and bickering ways. But as I reflect on those days, I cherished the experiences of bonding body and soul within the cradling confines of a tranquil locale, a nurturing place I called home. As we awaited summer’s sunburst debut, I thought of how our lives seemed fresh and new. No matter the time of day, morning, noon or twilight’s eve we were sunny souls always in tune. Life’s uncertainties couldn’t dim our crazed fantasies. It was in Riverview Park that we harmonized our emotions. Tenderly I vowed to Annie, “My heart is yours to hold.” And Annie promised, “I will hold it forever.” On a wrought iron bench we cheerfully sat amidst the wildflowers and trumpet daffodils, joyously ruminating about tumbling sensations of pulsating sensual desires and idyllic illusions. On that sweltering night, under starlight’s winking eyes, Annie’s beguiling stares sent my intense, raging emotions into a spastic state of vertigo. From just one alluring glance my heart rode reeling rip tides to wild, infatuated extremes. I envisioned a euphoric affaire on a bed of powder-puff clouds. Serenaded by whippoorwills, our spiraling emotions soared as a steamy, pregnant breeze billowed flushed, fiery breaths sweetened by feverish desires. Across a luminescent horizon waves of moonbeams flickered like glistening tropical seas. Under a hazy veil of humid air, we bared our bodies and bared our souls and I needed to share my true feelings to Annie. I held her close and said, “My deepest thoughts I cannot sing, only love and devotion is what I bring. Intimacy is all we crave and we should not have any foolish fears to mask.” Annie drew my head close to hers and expressed to me what she was feeling. “John, we’ve shared our hopeful dreams, each colored with romantic themes. Our true sentimental words never have to rhyme and our emotions will never die.” While walking home, we stopped on Tradition Bridge and engaged in a local ritual handed down by brothers, sisters and treasured friends. Under a full moon, you’d kiss your date, make an impassioned wish while casting a lucky penny upon the rippling waters of the murky river below. Our blessed spirits connected, celebrating the grandeur of new-sprung love and lyrically singing hearts. All of the challenges, hurdles and heartaches that other couples faced never deterred us or curbed our lofty, idealistic imaginations. We came of age, blending together as one. We cherished precious memories sparked in that peaceful haven, our place among the infinities. The End ~ ~ |
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