Category: short story

It’s the Little Things

It’s the little things that count the most. The unexpected thoughtful acts say, “I love you” more than flowers or flashy jewelry. I’m talking about the most mundane daily actions, like bringing a cup of coffee to your partner, just because you made one for yourself. Simple thoughtful, considerate boring actions that truly say, “I love you.”

I know that Mitch loves me, he has to, to put up with me but that’s beside the point. It wasn’t until my foot surgery and total dependence on him, did I realize just how much. He could have gone through the motions and did only what was necessary, take care of the dogs, feed me and chauffeur me around. He didn’t, Mitch did the little things, the deeds that you don’t notice until one time it gets missed and you realize how special it is and how much you depend on him.

Since my foot surgery, I have to shower in the guest bath, because it has a walk-in shower stall, easy access for me. And every morning Mitch carries over my hair turban before I get in the shower so I don’t have to crutch back across the house with wet drippy hair. I don’t see him do it, the turban is just there when I get out of the shower. I never even asked him to do that for me, he just did it. What man would care or even notice that a woman would want a hair turban to make a difficult experience a little easier to deal with? This is just one example of so many silly mundane acts that Mitch does without being asked.

This says more about someone than all the expensive gifts in the world. This says that he’ll be here through thick and thin, good and bad and especially when I’m at my worst and can’t even take care of me. I think this what the great marriages and relationships all have in common, sensing what the other needs or helps make their day a bit more comfortable and easier to get through a difficult situation. I am truly lucky to have him in my life.

I guess I’ll have to step up my game when I shed the boot.

Sunday Poetry

A couple of poems for Sunday morning.

Indecision

Standing on the edge of the abyss
Struggling with my demons
Indecision holding me tight
Run away or stand and fight.

Life closing in around me
Sucking out the air
Draining me of all energy
Losing the will to go on.

Looking deep in my soul
Searching for the resolve
Reaching down to my core
Gaining strength to fight the battle.

Memories

Walking in the sand
At the water’s edge
Each footstep washed away
By the rise and fall of the surf.

No tale tell signs
Of intrusion
Only the moment to be treasured
Recalled through memory.

With each step moving through life
Creating memories and moments
To be remembered
Over and over fondly.

Cry Baby

I am a crier. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a big sissy or a baby. I don’t let the little things get me down. I don’t whine and pout when I don’t get my way, which happens often in this world. I’m not even a super emotional person. I can watch the evening news and see the horrors that “man” wreaks on innocent victims and I usually just shake my head and wonder at the senseless acts. Maybe it’s because it is man doing it to man that I don’t get that emotional about it. Maybe it’s because I’ve been lucky to not have witnessed any random violence first hand or maybe there is something missing in me, the empathy gene.

But watch something on the news about acts of cruelty to animals and the tears just roll. I get so angry that someone could hurt a creature that trusts and loves us; it’s probably a good thing I don’t get to face the offender. It would not be pretty.

See a sad scene in a movie and I’m a basket case. I cried through the whole movie “War Horse”. I didn’t even want to go, but Mitch did so we went. I love the sappy chick flicks, maybe that’s where I show all of my emotions. It’s not real so it’s okay to let loose and feel the moment. No one is there to mock me for my tears, but Mitch, and he doesn’t count.

Watch a sappy or cute animal video and I can’t even talk after. My voice gets husky and breaks. So what is wrong with me? I cry for puppies and love stories, but not for the horrors of real life. Maybe it’s because there is too much horror today and not enough puppy videos. Or maybe that is the only way to not succumb to the wretchedness of man and sink into a deep depression. Who knows maybe I’m just a heartless woman. I can ask Mitch, but he says he’s afraid of me. I don’t know why.

Whoa What a Ride!

Everybody has lived through one of those “I can’t believe I survived that” moments, in fact I’ve had a few. Sometimes I marvel at the fact I’m still here. Mitch and I have more than our share together. I think together we have done some really stupid things. Of course you don’t think about that while you’re in the midst of your adventure.

One of our many dumbest moves was years ago, when I was going through my Divemaster training. It was my first open water work weekend at Table Rock Lake, about four hours south of here. The plan was that I would ride down with another divemaster-in-training student on Friday, do my water work on Saturday and Mitch would buzz down after he closed the dive shop on Saturday evening. Then we would drive back together on Sunday.

Well no one told Mother Nature that we wanted a nice weekend, so instead we got cold wet rain on Saturday. Someone would say, “Well you’re in the water anyway, what’s the big deal?” When you get out of the chilly water you want to get dry and warm, but that didn’t happen for us all day. I couldn’t wait to get back to my hotel room and take a long hot shower. Mitch showed up soaked to the bone about midnight, after closing up shop. Of course he had ridden his motorcycle.

Sunday morning Mother Nature decided to help up out. The morning dawned sunny and much warmer. Training was more pleasant but we had a lot to catch up on that didn’t get done the day before. By the time we wrapped everything up, if was about two in the afternoon and we had to get back to KC in order to check in the dive gear that other students had checked out. It was decided that a friend would drag my gear back for me and I would ride back with Mitch on the back of the motorcycle.

Mitch trying to make up for lost time, was flying down a two lane highway at breakneck speeds, passing cars like a madman, doing around one hundred miles an hour. Me, I was so tired after being in the water for two days, fell asleep behind him. That’s not entirely true, I always fall asleep riding in a car, and riding back seat on a motorcycle isn’t much different, right? He only figured out that I was asleep when my helmet banged into the back of his helmet. Can you imagine the jarring effect of getting whacked on the back of your helmet when trying to maintain control of your motorcycle at a hundred miles an hour? Mitch jerked and banged his helmet back at me and yelled for me to wake up. Easier said than done, I tried, but kept dozing off whacking Mitch in the back of the head for the next three hours. I finally woke up about the time we hit Kansas City. Luckily we survived the ride mainly due to light traffic, Mitch’s skill and in spite of me.

We beat the other divers back and Mitch finally relaxed about an hour after we checked in all of the rented gear.

Early Morning Photos

Silly geese swimming toward us
geese swimming

Charlie and Orso checking for new smells
the boyswater reflectionwaters edge

Calm waters in the early morning

Sunday Verses

A couple of poems

Fire

Hot winds fanning the flames
Pushing the fire onward
Burning all in its path
Reducing everything to ash.

Animals great and small
Racing toward the edge of the forest
Trying to outrun the carnage
Fear of fire greater than fear of foe.

Thunder on the horizon
Rain marching in
Enemy of fire
Brings salvation to the forest.

——————–

Rain

Gentle drumming on the wind pane
Causing runnels down the glass
Grey skies overhead
Spanning across the horizon.

Rain dances in the puddles
Splatters reaching upward
Filling birdbaths to the brim
Overflowing in the ditches.

Rain soaking the ground
Plants drinking up the moisture
Roots swelling up filled with water
Giving life to all.

Summer Blooms

Hens and Chicks
Hens and Chicks

Echinacea
Echinacea

Daylily
Daylily

These were taken with my Canon Rebel using a Zoom Lens EF-S 10-22mm

The Storm – Part 3 the Conclusion

Part 3, the final segment.

Camilla grabbed the hair on his head and pulled it hard back away from her. The man jerked his head up and raised his hand to slap her, but stopped in mid swing looking into her face. He felt a sudden unease growing in the pit of his stomach. Something wasn’t right, he started to realize that the woman showed no fear. Before his caution and judgment was clouded by his hunger and lust, but now he could see with clarity that he might have the disadvantage here. He tried to get up off her, but she held his arms tightly with a surprising strength for such a small woman.

Camilla let go of his left arm and swung her hand hard slapping him hard across his face. His head snapped back from the force of her blow. Totally off balance the man rolled over to the right falling off the bed. He started to get to his feet trying to decide whether to fight or flee. Something wasn’t right, the woman should have been scared, he had broken in her home and raped her, but she wasn’t acting scared at all. No she was behaving differently. She seemed to have enjoyed the rape and was now the aggressor. This woman was crazy, the man decided that fleeing was the better option. But Camilla wasn’t ready for the intruder to leave yet. She hadn’t felt so sated in decades and wasn’t ready for this to be over yet.

She leapt off the bed, rounded the foot of the bed and was on the man before he could stand straight up knocking them both to the floor. The man lying face down on the bottom of the pile shifted his shoulder and rolled on to his back. Camilla hung on shifting her grip so that she was on top of the man facing him. The man looked up at Camilla and saw something strange in her eyes. Definitely not fear, no more like hunger. She was now the one in control and the man didn’t like that one bit. He tried to push her off of him, but she was too strong. This wasn’t right, she was a small woman, the same size that he was used to throwing around. Camilla leaned down over the man’s face, her eyes smiling, her lips parted slightly as if she was going to kiss him. She hovered over his lips for a long moment, then angled her head to the left and dropped her head to his neck long fangs bared. Camilla drank hungrily from the man’s throat, draining him of all blood.

Standing over the corpse, Camilla looked down and felt totally satisfied. The storm, the stranger, sex and dinner, the first time in more than ten years, Camilla had known such pleasure. It had been a perfect evening after all.

I hope you have enjoyed this. I welcome any comments and suggestions on how I can improve in the future.

The Storm – Part 2

Part 2 of The Storm – I hope you enjoy it.

Camilla turned and walked out of the kitchen, head cocked slightly, listening carefully to catch any sound of the intruder. Lightning streaked across the sky and before the crash of thunder ended, the power went out in the house, plunging Camilla into darkness. With the darkness, Camilla could not follow the muddy footprints to the hiding spot of the intruder. The intruder was now at a disadvantage, he could no longer see her and was unfamiliar with the layout of the house, while Camilla was quite at ease in the dark and knew every nook and cranny of her beloved home.

She heard a sound coming from upstairs in one of the bedrooms. Slowly Camilla started up the stairs in search of the source of the sound. She stopped at the doorway of the first guest bedroom listening carefully and looking for any sign of movement. No one was in the room, so she moved on to the next bedroom. No one was hiding in that one either and Camilla moved on to the master bedroom.

Walking into the master bedroom Camilla sensed a presence there with her. She moved to the center of the room and turned slowly around full circle in search of the intruder. Standing next to the bed was the dark form of a man. She stood stock still for a moment, deciding whether to stay and face the intruder or flee. Camilla moved deliberately and slowly closer to the intruder and the danger of the unknown.

As Camilla closed the gap, the man moved to meet her at the foot of the bed. He closed his arms around her hugging her tightly, close to his body. He turned lifting her body and laid her on the bed. Lowering his body on top of her, he looked into her eyes. There was no fear in her eyes, in fact she met his gaze with a hungry look in her eyes.

Without any words between them, the man unbuttoned her blouse slowly caressing her skin as he pushed the button through the buttonhole. Moving downward he unbuttoned Camilla’s slacks, unzipped them and slid them down over her hips slowly, his hands lingering at the small of her back. As he pulled he slacks down past her knees, Camilla sat up toward him pulling him back down on top of her. The man positioned himself above her and moved in thrusting deep inside her. Camilla met his thrusts and moved with him slowly at first, together they moved faster and faster. Camilla moaned a long low moan and clutched the man tightly to her as she rose to a climax. The man spent, relaxed against her and closed his eyes. Camilla laid beneath the man satisfied for the first time in a long time. It was too bad it had to end so soon. Camilla pushed at the man trying to move him off her, but he just laid there breathing heavy.

Part 3 the final segment will post on Thursday. Please come back and read how it turns out,

The Storm – Part 1

Today I thought I would do something a bit different. I’ve written a short story titled “The Storm”. A bit of fiction, that I will post in three parts. Below is Part 1.

The lightning flashed across the sky illuminating the dark sky for a moment, then everything was plunged into darkness again. Waiting for the next round of lightning, Camilla peered out the window sure she had seen someone standing next to the large weeping willow tree. The wind whipped the branches around in a wild dance about the figure, making the figure look like Medusa. Storms were strangely calming to Camilla. The more violent the storm, the more Camilla enjoyed it. Her soul so unsettled seemed to connect with the tumultuous weather. But tonight, she couldn’t relax, something was out there watching.

Camilla lived in a two story house that was over two hundred years old in a remote part of Louisiana. The house has been in her family’s possession since it was built. It stood almost a half mile from the main road and was not easily visible by the casual passerby. To get to the house one had to drive down the winding tree lined gravel road. There were very few visitors that ever came to the house, some said that the house was haunted or at the very least, strange things had happened out there.

There by the tree was a figure, Camilla could just barely make out the form at the next lightning flash. She stepped back from the window and let the curtain fall back in place blocking any view from outside. Camilla left the living room and walked to the front door making sure the door was locked and threw the deadbolt for added security. She was not so much afraid as she was curious, who would be watching her and why. She then walked down the hall to the kitchen to make sure the back door was locked. Camilla walked in to see the back door standing open, rain blowing in covering the floor. Camilla dashed across the room to close the door and noticed that there were muddy footprints going from the doorway out of the kitchen into the house. Someone else was in the house with her.

Part 2 will be posted on Tuesday. Please check back for more.