Written for David’s Weave Written Weekly #187
where Ange has prompted us to write a piece of
“musical poetry” inspired by the instrumental
guitar track, “Canción Triste” by Jesse Cook.
This is my response. Thanks, Ange & David!
Tag: Romance
RDP Saturday: blink
Today at RDP, Punam asks us
to get creative with the word ‘blink’.
Thanks, Punam! Here’s my take.
RDP Thursday: proximity
Today at RDP, bushboy has asked us to share a story,
poem, photo, painting, essay, etc., focusing on the
word ‘proximity’. Thanks, Brian! Here’s my take.
Alpine Nights
Written for Sadje’s What Do You See #307.
Here’s where the two photo prompts took me.
Ewe Gotta Be Kidding Me!
Written for Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative
Challenge #50-2. I chose Pic #2.
Here’s where the image took me.
August: Rilo Kiley
This week at Glyn Wilton’s Mixed Music Bag,
he’s asking us to write about a song in which
the title or a line mentions the current month.
Here’s my featured August artist and their song.
The Most Unexpected Places
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where
we are urged to get creative in 250 words or less.
The photo below is our inspiration; this is my story.
Just What I Needed
Written for OLWG #398, our three prompts
for this week are listed below. This my story.
Honeysuckle and Provolone
Originally written several years ago, I thought this fitting
for this week’s Unicorn Challenge where we are
asked to get creative in 250 words or less using
the photo below as inspiration. This is my story.
Want To Watch A Movie? – Encore
Today’s movie suggestion comes from our friend SueW; check out her site; it’s a delight. https://nansfarm.net/.
This is a new one for me. Here’s what IMDB had to say about The Holiday:
Amanda lives in LA and is a movie trailer editor. Iris lives in Surrey and is a journalist. The two decide to swap houses for two weeks at Christmas – both trying to forget their troubled love lives .… until love finds them anyway.
Well, sounds like my kind of flick and it’s already on my watchlist. I know what we’ll be watching tonight!
Let’s check out the trailer:
I’ll save you a seat. Enjoy the movie! 🎥 🍿 🥤
NAR©2024
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for Nancy ~ The Sicilian Storyteller, Nancy (The Sicilian Storyteller), The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk, and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Want To Watch A Movie?
Here’s a flick we hadn’t seen in a while. We watched it again last night and remembered why we enjoy it so much. If you’re looking for something that’s very funny with just a touch of sentimentality, then this one is a good choice for you. It’s a no-brainer; sit back and be entertained by Sandra Bullock, Ryan Reynolds and Betty White in “The Proposal”.
This is the premise: When up tight New York editor Margaret faces deportation, she convinces her assistant Andrew to marry her in return for a promotion. However, when she visits his hometown, it changes her in many ways. Here’s a clip:
I’ll save you a seat. Enjoy the movie! 🎥 🍿 🥤
NAR©2024
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for Nancy (The Sicilian Storyteller), The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk, and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Lamb Stew
Looking through my early stories, I found one from 2017,
my first year on WordPress, with only 4 likes and no comments;
I thought I’d give it another shot. Any similarity between the MC
and yours truly is very much intended. I hope you enjoy Lamb Stew.
To Kiss Your Lips: A Dectina Refrain
Written for Sadje’s What Do You See # 258,
this is my Dectina Refrain response.
Come,
my love,
lie with me
on the cool grass
beneath the pear tree,
Read love sonnets to me
till I grow warm with desire.
Now the wine has gone to my head
and I ache to feel your lips on mine.
Come, my love, lie with me on the cool grass
NAR©2024
#WDYS
This is “Shut Up and Kiss Me” by Mary Chapin Carpenter
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Of Memories And Dreams
Written for Friday Fictioneers where our gracious host, Rochelle,
encourages us to get creative in 100 words or less using this photo
as our inspiration. Here is my 100-word photo-inspired story.
Funny thing about dreams and memories; sometimes it’s difficult to tell them apart. Sometimes I just don’t want to.
That summer …. after the breakup …. I needed to be alone …. to think …. to put the hurt behind me. A few days at that motel on the beach seemed like a good idea at the time.
Everywhere I walked …. everything I saw …. reminded me of you. The scent of salt water. Scattered shells and seaweed. That song. Hot summer nights. Stars so close you could touch them.
Memories and dreams of you …. they’re funny that way.
NAR©2024
100 Words
This is “In Dreams” by Roy Orbison
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Riddles Of Love
I wrote this fairytale 14 years ago
for my eldest granddaughter, Mckenna.
I have revised it for my youngest, Colette.
~ THE KING’S DECREE WAS SENT OUT ACROSS THE LAND ~
PRINCES OF MAGONIA!
YOU ARE SUMMONED TO TAKE UP THE CHALLENGE
FOR THE HAND OF HER ROYAL HIGHNESS, PRINCESS AMIRA!
Fifty answered the royal command. Upon seeing Princess Amira, they all gasped; she was a stunning beauty. Her unblemished skin as pure as snow, her eyes sparkling ice blue like crystal waters and her hair the color of the stars. Her loveliness was matched only by her brilliant mind and pure heart. She longed to be married but found most men boring, ignorant and foolish.
Amira motioned for the princes to sit and in a confident voice she addressed them:
“One among you will be my husband! Marriage is not based solely on appearances. To win my hand, you must be smart, interesting, humorous and brave. These fifty parchments, one for each of you, contain three riddles. You have two days to solve them. Record your answers on the parchment and return them to Zora, my lady-in-waiting. Use your brain; only a clear head, clever mind and true heart will win my hand.”
Forty gave up on the first day. On day two, the remaining ten reported to Princess Amira’s lady. Nine answered the riddles incorrectly and were dismissed. Only one answered all the riddles correctly. Now it was time for Zora to present the victor to Amira.
“Greetings, clever prince! What is your name?”
“I am Khalil but I am no prince. I am squire to Prince Wahid. He was unable to answer your riddles. He fled in embarrassment and I secretly took his place.”
“And you can answer them? Let us see! Zora will read the riddles.”
The first question was offered: “What is born each night and dies each dawn?”
Khalil answered correctly: “Hope”. Amira was impressed but showed no reaction.
Zora posed the second riddle: “What flares warm like a flame but is not a flame?
Again Khalil answered correctly: “Blood”. Princess Amira was amazed.
Finally, the third question was asked: “What disappears the moment you say its name?
Khalil responded confidently: “Silence”.
“Excellent, Khalil!” said Amira, stunned by Khalil’s clever wit. “All your answers are correct! But I cannot forget that you tried to fool me by pretending to be a prince.”
“Pardon me, your highness; I knew this was my only chance to vie for your hand. Prince Wahid is a dolt, desirous of your wealth and bewitched by your beauty. He is not worthy of you. Please afford me an opportunity to convince you we are truly meant to be together. If I may, I have three riddles to ask you, Princess Amira. If you answer correctly, we will be wed. If not, I am at your mercy.”
“I am intrigued by your daring nature, Khalil. I will allow your three riddles. Proceed.”
Khalil posed his first riddle to Princess Amira:
“I can only live where there is light but will die if light shines on me. What am I?”
Amira thought for a moment, then answered: “I know! You are a shadow.”
Khalil took a few steps closer to the princess.
“That is correct, your highness” Khalil replied. “Here is your second riddle”:
“The more there is, the less you see. What am I?”
Amira quickly responded with “Darkness.”
Moving closer still, Khalil smiled warmly and whispered “Correct again. And now for your final question, Amira.”
Curious and quite taken by this handsome, clever squire, Amira returned the smile. Khalil began his riddle:
“He is incognito, no birthright of blood royal.
He is patient, caring, determined and loyal.
He has no great wealth but is clever and smart.
He can promise to love you with all his heart.”
Khalil looked deeply into the princess’ eyes. “Who am I, Amira?”
Reaching for Khalil’s hands, Amira drew him closer and whispered:
“The answer is you, Khalil! You are my prince and future husband.”
Amira and Khalil found true love at last. They were married and lived a long and happy life.
The End.
NAR©2024
NB: My inspiration for writing this fairytale came after attending a performance of the opera, Turandot. The aria “Nessun dorma” (“Nobody shall sleep) is first heard in Act III of Puccini’s opera and is performed by the protagonist, Calaf, who falls in love with Princess Turandot at first sight. Before the aria, Calaf has successfully answered all of the Princess’ riddles but she is still rebuking his advances. Calaf is sure of his plan to marry the princess as he has challenged her to find out his name by the morning; if she cannot learn his name by the time the sun rises, she has to marry him. In the last line of the aria, the prince expresses his triumphant assurance that he will win the hand of the princess: All’alba vincerò! Vincerò, vincerò, vincerò (At dawn, I will win! Win, win, win!).
From the 1924 opera Turandot by Giacomo Puccini, this is “Nessun dorma”, sung by the maestro, Luciano Pavarotti.
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Chances Are
Rachel and Paul had been together for six years. They assumed one day they would marry, have kids – the whole nine yards – but life has a funny way of taking twists and turns. Their romance and dreams just fizzled out but they remained very close and relied on each other for guidance – from the job scene to the dating game.
One night Rachel texted Paul: “Hey, babe. Ella & Sam set us up with blind dates for Fri. U in?”
Paul: “Y not? No plans anyway!”
Rachel: “Great! Emilio’s @ 7. Glad U R my back-up!”
Paul: “Ditto, babe! C U there.”
Both kicked themselves for calling the other “babe”. Old habits.
Friday night the foursome met at Emilio’s. While checking-out their prospective dates, Paul and Rachel exchanged alarmed glances; her eyes were screaming “WTF!” It was the fastest dinner in the history of Emilio’s restaurant.
As soon as Paul got home, he called Rachel: “What was that?!“
Rachel howled: “A TOTAL FREAK SHOW!! Your date was downright scary! She looked like Vampira and I swear her eyes were red! And what was up with that black cape – with a hood, for Christ’s sake? Did you notice her steak? It wasn’t rare; it was raw and practically throbbing!”
“And what about YOUR date?!” Paul exclaimed. “Wrist-to-neck tattoos, eyebrow, nose and lip piercings, boots with spikes and a “Carcass” t-shirt! He downed a bottle of beer in two gulps and belched like a bloody Viking!”
“I’ll never let Sam and Ella play matchmakers again. I’m sure they thought it was hysterical” Rachel quipped. “Anyway, my mother set me up with her friend’s cousin’s son, “The Doctor”, for next Saturday …. on Valentine’s Day, for Pete’s sake! If you get a date maybe we can try this again.”
“Sure. Nothing could be as bad as tonight” Paul replied. “I’ll call ya.”
A few days later Paul called to say he had a date for Saturday – a friend of a friend. “But she said “drinks only” and she’ll take a taxi.”
“Ok, fine, with me, but if it turns into another debacle like that last date, we all go our separate ways.”
Arrangements were made to meet at The Aviary in Central Park. Rachel’s date was Wesley, an OB/GYN. He was handsome, tan and suave. Paul’s date was Ginger, a salesgirl at Victoria’s Secret with modeling/acting ambitions. She was a vivacious redhead with mischievous green eyes.
The hostess seated them at a semi-circular booth; Ginger smoothly slid in between Wesley and Paul. With each sip of her martini Ginger inched closer to Wesley, asking risqué questions about his practice which he was more than happy to answer. Before long they were blatantly flirting, leaving Paul and Rachel dumbfounded. Giggling, Ginger excused herself to use “the little girl’s room”. The trio sat in awkward silence until Wesley’s pager beeped. He announced he had an emergency at the hospital, apologized and left.
“Well, there’s no point in me hanging around” Rachel said glumly. “Ginger should be back any second and three’s a crowd.”
As Rachel got up to leave she glanced out the window and saw Wesley and Ginger getting into his car. “What the hell? Paul! We’ve been dumped …. on Valentine’s Day!”
Paul and Rachel started the slow walk of rejection through Central Park. He jokingly bumped her shoulder with his.
“There’s a hockey game on tonight. Any chance you wanna watch?” Paul asked.
She bumped him back.
“Why not? I don’t have any plans now, anyway” Rachel sighed.
NAR©2024
This is Johnny Mathis with “Chances Are”
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
FORCED FUN
Another oldie while I’m being lazy this week!
Some of you have read this; others have not.
Here’s a freshened-up, rewritten story.
Hope you enjoy this one!
🎁
“What the hell am I doing out on a night like this?” Finn grumbled to himself, his mood worsening with each soggy step he took. “Freezing rain, my feet are soaked and I don’t even want to go to this damn office holiday party!”
Finn had been keeping something secret for a while: no one at the place where he worked knew he was going to quit. He waited for his boss, Mr. Hardy, to leave with his secretary, then Finn placed a sealed envelope on the secretary’s desk. It was addressed to his boss and marked “Personal & Confidential”; inside the envelope was Finn’s letter of resignation.
He was sick of his dead-end job, always being passed over and stuck in a little cubicle all day. There had to be more to life than this and he was ready to find out!
Running into the little gift shop located in the lobby of his company’s building, Finn spotted a small lapis lazuli paperweight near the cash register and decided it would make a fine item for the secret gift swap. As he reached for it, his hand collided with a delicate feminine hand with sparkling mistletoe-green fingernails.
“Hold on, buster! That’s mine! I just left it on the counter while I went to get a gift bag.”
Turning his head, Finn encountered a familiar face; it was the receptionist at his office. He always thought she was pretty but tonight she looked particularly fetching.
“Hayden, isn’t it? Well, I’m sorry but the rule is if you put something down before paying for it, it’s fair game. Besides, I’m in a hurry and I don’t have time to look around for anything else.”
Hayden recognized Finn immediately. He reminded her of a dreamy Hugh Grant in his younger days – handsome and charming – just not at this particular moment.
“Finn, right? Well, I’m in a hurry, too. The office holiday party is starting and this is my selection for the gift swap. You’re probably here for the same reason.”
“Guilty as charged” Finn quipped. “Come on, Hayden. It’s been a crappy day. I just want to buy this thing, make an appearance at the party and get the hell out of there.”
“I feel the same way. These office celebrations are the worst! The last place I want to be is at that party but it’s mandatory. Nothing like ‘forced fun’!”
Finn had to chuckle at that.
“Look, Finn. There’s a bunch of other stuff right over there. Just go select something else. After all, I did see this first.”
“Oh, alright! It’s all yours!” Finn conceded and dashed off to find another gift.
He quickly spotted a rosewood ballpoint pen, grabbed a gift bag and returned to the register just as Hayden was finishing up her purchase. She gave Finn a little smile and headed out into the lobby. He couldn’t help noticing her shapely legs as she walked away, heels click-clacking on the marble floor. He watched till she was out of sight, then made his purchase.
Still waiting for the elevator, Hayden heard a familiar voice behind her declare, “So, we meet again”. She felt a slight rush knowing it was Finn.
“Or maybe you’re following me” Hayden replied coyly, hoping she wasn’t blushing.
She and Finn never really spoke at work but they always caught each other’s eye. Glancing at him Hayden was struck with how intensely blue his eyes were. At the same moment Finn was thinking how very kissable Hayden’s lips looked in the shimmering light of the lobby’s chandelier.
They stepped into the elevator, the only two occupants as it made its slow ascent.
“Mind if I ask why you’re dreading this party so much?” Finn inquired.
“That’s easy.” Hayden replied. “I hate my job! The people are unfriendly, all I do is answer the phone all day and give directions to rude visitors. This was not my dream when I first came to New York. I’m bored to death and capable of so much more.” She glanced over her shoulder even though they were alone in the elevator, then asked conspiratorially “If I tell you something will you promise to keep it a secret?”
Finn nodded and gave her the ‘zipped lips’ sign.
“I’m quitting tomorrow” Hayden whispered.
“No kidding! So am I! I left a note on Mr. Hardy’s secretary’s desk just before I left today. I hate my job, too. Making a career out of working in a glass box 8 hours a day was never my plan. But mum’s the word, OK?” Finn whispered back covertly and they stared into each other’s eyes like kids making a pinky pledge.
“Any idea what you’re gonna do?” Finn asked.
“Not really” Hayden sighed “but I’ve always dreamed of running a bed and breakfast in Maine.”
“It’s gorgeous there” Finn replied wistfully. “We used to vacation at my grandparent’s lake house when I was a kid.”
The elevator door opened to the office party in full swing. Finn and Hayden rolled their eyes and deposited their little bags on the gift table. He went one way, she went the other but every now and then they found themselves looking for each other across the crowded, noisy room.
After a short time Hayden casually made her way to the elevator. She was just about to make her escape when she heard that familiar voice cry out “Hold the elevator!” and Finn rushed in breathlessly.
They stood side-by-side, both unsure of what to say. Then the inevitable happened.
“I was wondering…..” they said at the same time and laughed self-consciously.
“You first” prompted Hayden.
“I was thinking perhaps we could get a drink somewhere and talk” Finn suggested.
“My thoughts exactly” Hayden replied. And when they stepped outside they discovered the freezing rain had changed to snow. Finn thought the light dusting of snowflakes on Hayden’s hair looked enchanting.
Hayden smiled at Finn. “Maybe we can have that drink at my place” she suggested, her eyes twinkling. “We could light the fireplace, listen to some music …..”
“Sounds perfect” Finn replied softly and slipped his fingers between hers.
NAR © 2023
This is John Legend and Kelly Clarkson with “Baby, It’s Cold Outside”
Please join me today
as we celebrate the final
Birthday Thursday for 2023.
Wonder whose special day is it?
https://rhythmsection.blog/
COCKAMAMIE BUSINESS
“Credited for my award-winning fruitcake” was probably the last thing I heard my speed date say before I zoned out, my head hitting the table with an impressive “thud”.
“DING!” went the timer and my arm automatically shot up as I shouted out “Check, please!” Everyone looked at me like I was crazy. “Yeah, I’m crazy alright for agreeing to go along with my friend Nadine’s cockamamie idea of speed dating the day after Christmas …. and she never even showed up!”
I looked up to see my next date arriving – an Elvis impersonator replete with spangled jumpsuit, a ton of hair and heavy cologne. Whoever invented the jumpsuit should be pummeled with one of Elvis’ belt buckles. “Well, hello there, little lady. I do believe fate has brought us together. You are the spittin’ image of my darlin’ Priscilla.”
“Oh Lord! Get me out of here!” my mind screamed. Quickly I jumped up.
“Hey, toots! Number 9! Whaddya think you’re doing? You can’t just break outta line like that!” shouted the hoody-wearing overseer with the pronounced nose. He pointed an accusatory finger at me looking every bit like Charon the Ferryman from the River Styx.
I shoved passed him, walking out into the cold December night. “You are such a pathetic loser” I murmured to myself. “Another wasted night and this time during the holidays! Wonder if there’s anything to do other than just go home?”
Looking around I noticed a movie theater down the street. “Well, better than nothing.” As I got closer I saw the movie was “A Hard Day’s Night” and it was about to start. Cool! I got my ticket and bought some popcorn. There were clusters of people sitting here and there so I chose a secluded seat in the back. I liked sitting by myself, away from weirdos.
Just as the theater lights dimmed, some guy walked in and sat right next to me. “Jeez!” I’m thinking, rolling my eyes. “Of all the seats, you had to choose that one!”
Looking straight ahead, eating my popcorn, I assess the situation. I never know what to do at times like this. Do I change seats and risk him saying something nasty? Do I stay put and pretend everything’s normal? What if he’s a pervert?
“This is all your fault, Nadine” I whispered.
“Excuse me. Did you say something?” asked the guy next to me.
The charming English accent caught my attention; I turned my head slightly in its direction. In my excitement, I immediately began choking as I inhaled a puff of popcorn. The guy sitting just inches from me was a carbon copy of my one true love – George Harrison.
“Are you ok?” he asked. “Here, have some water.”
Finally able to breath and talk again, I said “I’m awfully sorry! You shocked me. Has anyone ever told you you look exactly like George Harrison?”
“All the time. It’s a curse. And has anyone ever told you you look exactly like Priscilla Presley?”
“All the time; it’s a curse.”
We both sighed heavily in resigned commiseration and turned our attention to the movie. We laughed through the whole thing, totally enjoying ourselves and lost in the moment; there was definitely a connection between us. When it was over we left together and decided to get a drink to celebrate the holidays.
We walk to a swinging little bar and who happens to be there? None other than “No-Show Nadine”!
Spotting me and my guy from the movie theater, she came running over, gushing like a schoolgirl. “Oh my God! Has anyone ever told you you look exactly like George Harrison? Giving ‘George’ the once-over, she drooled. “Mighty slim pickings here tonight. Wanna dance, handsome? Olivia won’t mind, will ya, hon?”
Wanting nothing more at that moment than to escape Nadine, ‘George’ grabbed my hand and we ran from the club, laughing and tripping over ourselves just like in the movie.
Maybe I wasn’t a pathetic loser after all!
NAR © 2023
*wink wink*
George Harrison and “Cockamamie Business”
It’s our final edition of
“In The Groove: Sounds Of The Season”
and we’re celebrating the holidays
with something George would definitely dig!
Please stop by and join in the fun!
https://rhythmsection.blog/
This website (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
HONEYSUCKLE AND PROVOLONE
The minute she walked into my deli on Arthur Avenue, I was blown away. She knocked my socks off. Even through the crack in the storage room door I was dazzled by this profusion of red hair the color of a bright autumn day, creamy skin with a splash of freckles and captivating emerald eyes. I’ve got a weakness for gingers and I fell head over heels.
I’m Bruno Deluca – or Mr. Monotone compared to the stunning Monarch butterfly that just gaily flew into my market. I have the quintessential Italian look – walnut brown hair, coffee brown eyes and a perpetual deep tan. But I have a sparkling smile and dimples “to die for”, as my Aunt Carmella always says.
This amber goddess stood in front of the meat and cheese display, a bewildered look on her face. Here’s my big chance. I dashed from the back room and positioned myself directly in her line of vision. “Welcome to Deluca’s Salumeria. May I help you with something, miss?” [Smooth, right? Not to mention original!]
She looked up and I flashed her my trademark smile. And she smiled back, blushing winsomely. My knees grew weak when she spoke, her lilting Irish brogue a sweet surprise.
“Everything looks so exotic and delicious! I wouldn’t know what to order, even if could pronounce the names!” And when she laughed I swear I saw musical notes wafting through the air.
“No problem” I replied as I swiftly came around to her side, naming and describing all the meats and cheeses.
She smelled like honeysuckle. I smelled like provolone.
She still couldn’t make up her mind so I tried something radical. “How about I give you a few samples – on the house – if you promise to come back and buy something, even if it’s one slice of salami?”
She hesitated for a second, then laughingly said “You have a deal, Mr…..”
“Deluca. Bruno Deluca. And you are…..?”
She extended a delicate porcelain hand. “Rowan McCourt. Pleased to meet you, Bruno.”
“Rowan, eh? That’s a lovely name. What does it mean?”
Tentatively toying with her hair she said “Little Red-haired One. And what does Bruno mean?”
I shrugged and matter-of-factly stated “Brown” and we both burst out laughing!
I packed up a nice selection of sliced meat and cheese and some of my best Italian bread. “Here ya go, Rowan, and don’t forget…..”
“Oh, no Bruno! This is too much! I couldn’t possibly…..!”
“Go! Enjoy! It’s always good to have leftovers. See you soon!”
The next day I kept glancing at the door; I couldn’t get Rowan out of my head and I was disappointed when she didn’t return. True to her word, though, she was back the following morning.
“Bruno, everything was delicious!” she declared excitedly. “Now what shall I buy?”
She browsed for a minute. “That looks incredible! What is it?”
“That’s lasagna – sheets of wide pasta layered with ricotta, mozzarella, grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese, sauteèd chopped beef and sausage in my homemade tomato sauce. It’s already cooked; just heat and enjoy. Would you like to try it?”
“I would indeed! You make it all sound so delicious, Bruno. My mouth is watering!”
“You won’t regret your decision, Rowan. Lasagna is one of our specialties. How much would you like?”
“Enough for a few portions, please” Rowan replied. Her smile was radiant.
“Ah, leftovers. You remembered!” I said, smiling back.
“Actually, Bruno, I was hoping you would join me for dinner tonight.”
It took me a second to remember to breath. “I’d love to” I whispered while inside I was shouting “YES! I’d love to!”
“Wonderful! Here’s my address. See you at 7:00. And Bruno, can you bring a bottle of wine and some of your fabulous bread?” Rowan asked.
I stared into her eyes and nodded mutely.
“Bruno, I’m very happy you’ll be joining me tonight.” Taking her bag, Rowan floated out the door. The slightest trace of honeysuckle tickled my nose.
NAR ©2023
Happy Birthday to my guy, my special Mr. Bill 🧡
Please join me today
In The Groove
as we conclude
Motown Memories.
What could be next?
https://rhythmsection.blog/
SAVING GRACE
There aren’t too many people who know about this part of my life; that’s about to change.
It was 1943 and I was crazy about Pvt. Roy Holmes at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. Every night for two weeks I snuck out my bedroom window to be with him. Then he stopped coming around and I found out he’d been deployed. I was heartbroken. Just one short month later I learned he’d been killed. Another month later I realized I was pregnant.
Mama and daddy would never understand; what’s worse, they’d never forgive me. I packed some clothes and snuck out one last time. I caught a north-bound bus, getting off at the aptly named city of Hope, Ohio. Eyeing a pretty white church, I headed straight for it and rang the bell. I was surprised when a young handsome pastor answered; he was even more surprised when I fainted in the doorway. When I came to I was on a sofa with the pastor and two women standing over me.
“Better now?” asked the pastor and I gave a little nod of my head. “Maybe if you tell us what’s wrong we’ll be able to help” he suggested.
“Yes, what wrong, dear? Maybe we can help?” the two kindly women asked in unison.
Speaking softly, I slowly made up my story as I went along: “My name is Grace Holmes. My husband of five months was killed in the war. I have no family, no money and I’m pregnant.” I started to cry tears of sorrow and shame. Handing me a tissue the pastor quietly said “There now. You’ve been through an awful ordeal. Please stay the night here in the parish house and in the morning we’ll sort it all
out.”
I gratefully accepted the pastor’s kind offer; the two women led me upstairs and helped me get settled in a lovely guest room. The room was small but well-appointed with a twin bed, nightstand, dresser and rocking chair in the corner. It even had its own bathroom with a bathtub! There was a beautiful view of a pond behind the church and I knew this was where I was meant to be. Still, I felt very guilty about my lies. I decided I would stay a day or two until I figured out what I would do, then I’d move on. I couldn’t take advantage of these kind people.
The next morning I found everyone in the kitchen preparing breakfast. The pastor rushed over to offer me a chair. “Good morning, Grace! These are the two ladies who were here last night when you arrived … our cook, Anna, and Peggy, our housekeeper. I’m Richard Clark, the pastor” he said, absentmindedly touching his collar. Everyone was so welcoming!
I remembered the two women as the ones who brought me to the guest room and I thanked them again for their hospitality. We made small talk during breakfast – the weather, what was on sale at the grocery store, a new recipe Anna couldn’t wait to try out. One topic everyone was careful not to mention was the war, obviously for my sake. I refrained from saying too much, afraid of turning my lie into a giant web from which I’d never free myself.
Life at the parish house was surprisingly busier that I thought. People stopped by to discuss weddings, funerals, baptisms, the church bazaar. Some inquired about joining the choir and others invited Pastor Richard for dinner. It was comfortable while being lively and I liked helping Anna in the kitchen, even though she insisted I should be resting in my “delicate condition”. Soon I would have to leave before I wore out my welcome.
One night after dinner, Pastor Richard asked me to join him in his office. He offered me a chair and then sat behind his desk. “Grace, I believe things happen for a reason. I’ve been thinking about this since you arrived the other night. There’s a way we can help each other. You see, my secretary recently retired and I haven’t been able to find anyone to take her place. I’d like to offer you the job. It’s not very demanding – taking phone calls, answering the door, keeping track of appointments, things like that. The salary is decent and room and board are included. Would you consider taking the job? I believe you’d be a real asset here.”
“Pastor Richard, I wasn’t prepared for this and I don’t know what to say. What about my condition?” I responded.
“Grace, you’re pregnant; you don’t need to ring a bell and declare ‘Unclean! Unclean!’ wherever you go. Celebrate the new life growing inside you! Do me a favor; sleep on what we discussed and let me know tomorrow. And Grace, please call me Richard.”
That night in my room I thought about the job and living at the parish house. I had to admit I felt at home here and it would be an answer to my prayers. The next morning I told Richard I wanted to take the job on a 3-week trial basis if that was alright with him. He was so happy with my news, he gave me an unexpected hug that lifted me off my feet.
Working at the parish house was wonderful; I was always a quick study and I became entrenched in my new job in no time. Of course, Richard was a huge part of the reason I was so happy. Over the period of just a few weeks we became much closer to each other. We spent many hours together, our friendship growing stronger until it was undeniable – we were falling in love.
When I announced to Richard that the 3-week trial was over, he walked over to me and said softly “Grace, please stay. I couldn’t bear it if you left.”
I reached up and put my arms around his neck. “I’m not going anywhere, Richard. I’ve fallen in love with you.” And we kissed for the first time.
From that moment on we were inseparable. As our relationship became obvious to those around us, so did my pregnancy. Richard asked me to marry him and I said yes. We were both thrilled but my lies haunted me. I knew I had to confess before I could marry Richard. I took him by the hand and led him to the sofa in his office.
“Darling, I have something to tell you. The night I arrived here, I lied to everyone about my past. I‘m not a war widow; I was never married. I became pregnant by my boyfriend who was drafted and left without even saying goodbye to me. One month after that, he was killed and soon after I discovered I was pregnant. My parents would never understand so I ran away from home. I got off the bus here when I heard the bus driver announce the city of Hope. I believe this is where I was meant to be.”
I sighed deeply and waited for Richard to say something. Finally, when he spoke, his words shocked me.
“Oh, Grace. I’ve been waiting all this time for you to tell me, to unburden yourself. How awful it must have been to be living with that lie day after day. You see, darling, I’ve always known or at least surmised the truth.”
I was stunned. “But how? How could you know?”
“No wedding ring, no pictures of your ‘husband’, no mention of your childhood, your family. You said nothing about your life at all. I figured it out and I didn’t care. I love you and I’m so happy you trusted me enough to tell me the truth. I want to be your husband and a father to your baby more than anything in the world. That’s all that matters.” And then he kissed me.
“We’re going to have to call your parents and let them know you’re safe. Don’t worry, darling; it will all be ok. But first we have to tell Anna and Peggy we’re getting married; I’ll never hear the end of it if they’re not the first to know!”
I made another decision that night: if our baby is a girl, her name will be Hope.
NAR © 2023
I’m looking forward to
having you join me today
At The Movies.
https://rhythmsection.blog
NO IMPULSIVE ACTIONS
He eyed her sipping her drink. She was glorious; he had to meet her but his timing had to be perfect. No impulsive actions this time. He wasn’t one who believed in love at first sight. No, it was more the way her finger toyed with that one loose strand of hair or the way she imperceptibly licked her lips before sipping her glass. When she looked his way, he waved slightly but she only had eyes for her approaching date.
With great aplomb, he ran his raised hand through his hair.
NAR © 2023
JUST THIS ONE
This is a repost of a story from 2017, the first one I wrote for
The Elephant’s Trunk.
🐘
“Impressive collection you have here” said Jackson to the owner of the record store.
“Feel free to look around” came a voice from somewhere behind a stack of boxes.
Jackson browsed the tiny cubby of a store, appropriately named “The Inner Sleeve”, looking for nothing in particular.
“Psst. Down here!” A battered box stashed in the corner called out. Jackson crouched down to wipe the dust off a yellowed label.
“SIDNEY BECHET”
Feeling a jolt shoot straight to his heart, fingers racing through musty LPs, and suddenly there it was- “Les Annees Bechet”, #1: “Petite Fleur”.
“I’ll be damned”, whispered Jackson. No longer was he in “The Inner Sleeve”. It was Paris, 1982 in that enchanting café … what was the name?
“Café de la Paix. Yes, that was it!” he recalled. And then, in a barely perceptible hush, “Lisette”.
Slumping back against the wall, Jackson clasped the precious vinyl against his chest, caressed it lovingly with the same fingers that raced through the box just seconds before. The same fingers that released Lisette’s raven hair from its ‘pince à cheveax’ and showered it across her porcelain shoulders. The same fingers that traced her face as gently as butterfly wings – ‘ailes de papillons’ – from her widows peak to her crystal blue eyes, her nose, her blushed lips. “Just this one time” thought Jackson. Just once before returning to his insanely mundane existence in Stamford, Connecticut.
Oh, for just one more taste of Lisette.
Slowly Jackson stood, a sadness like none other enveloping him. He suddenly realized he had been crying and wiped at his eyes self-consciously. He wound his way through the maze of boxes overflowing with records that were meaningless to him. He had found what he didn’t know he was looking for.
“All done, sir?” the clerk asked.
“Yes, thanks”, Jackson replied. “Just this one.”
NAR © 2017
#9 DREAM
Head resting gently on his shoulder, her ever-so-slightly parted lips barely grazing his neck, he inhaled the intoxicating aroma of gardenias in her hair and traced her perfect ear with his mouth. Her arms caressed his upper back while his hands slid down hers and he pulled her closer. They swayed across the dance floor to the smooth rhythm of John Lennon’s “#9 Dream” – their first dance together as husband and wife.
Twenty seven years ago their mothers were best friends – army wives and neighbors, sharing morning coffee, exchanging recipes and sometimes a handkerchief to wipe away tears. Their babies napped in the same playpen…..he a dark-haired, brown-eyed, sweet-faced charmer and she a fair-skinned blonde little goddess with eyes as green as dewy grass.
When they were four she surprised him with a worm and he plucked a dandelion for her that made her giggle. As time went on and days turned into years, they remained inseparable – climbing trees to see if they could touch the clouds, catching lightning bugs and making a wish before setting them free, sitting in her room sharing their dreams, listening to their parents Beatles CDs while stretched out in his dad’s station wagon, kissing for the first time and a second and a hundredth.
They “went steady” in high school and became lovers in college. They found an apartment above a shuttered café in Brooklyn. They talked about taking a chance on the old place and bringing it back to life. They worked together and finally celebrated the grand opening of “The Glass Onion Café”.
It poured like cats and dogs on their wedding day – the old adage of a long and happy marriage. Could this be reality, their happily-ever-after? Dreams shared in a teenage girl’s bedroom come true?
Something old: her grandmother’s pearl necklace. Something new: the minuscule miracle of life growing inside her. Something borrowed: her mother’s “army wife handkerchief”. Something blue: her sapphire engagement ring.
The Master of Ceremonies made the introduction of the new Mr. & Mrs. to the guests and invited everyone to join them on the dance floor. The photographer snapped shot after shot of the stunning couple – she in her exquisite gown of Scottish lace and he in a fitted, perfectly tailored tuxedo.
It was the magical night everyone intrinsically knew was meant to be; their #9 dream come true.
NAR © 2023
INEFFABLE
Piano music drifted up to her as she leisurely strolled the aisles of the exclusive Manhattan department store – not the unremarkable, annoying background Muzak one usually hears in waiting rooms and elevators. No, this was definitely different.
Being a devotee of the piano, she was convinced no one else in the world could possibly love its sound more than she. Enchanted, she felt compelled to find the source of the music.
As she approached the escalator, the volume increased minutely. Gliding down, gently floating closer and closer, she realized “this is LIVE music”.
Arriving at the store’s café level, she stood still, tilting her head slightly in the direction of the beckoning music. Sensing an invisible hand on the small of her back, she swayed slightly as the unmistakable melody of “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered” trickled above the polite chatter of the ladies who lunch.
“Someone is definitely playing the piano” she thought, quickly adding “Oh, please, don’t let it be one of those self-playing digital pianos.”
Now the music was clearly audible and she followed the winding hallway from the escalator into the center of the café area. Suddenly standing before her in all its glory was a glimmering ebony Steinway baby grand. The lid was open, revealing the hammers and strings, but concealing the pianist .. if there even was one.
As if on cue, she heard a silky rich voice as smooth as Maker’s Mark Bourbon and she imagined Harry Connick or Frank Sinatra. “She’s a fool and don’t I know it but a fool can have her charm.” As she made her way around the curves of the Steinway, the illusive piano man came into view. She kept her eyes downcast, afraid to look, and just listened as this sorcerer cast his spell on her.
Slowly she raised her head to surreptitiously glance at the singer. He wasn’t the handsome, debonair Harry or Frank; actually, he looked more like Billy Joel but when he caught her eye everything fell away and all that mattered was the here and now. She approached him tentatively, her hand gliding along the piano, eyes still locked with his.
Ruefully she thought to herself “Why do I always fall in love with musicians? I would follow this man anywhere.” The feelings deep within her heart, her body, her soul were ineffable; why they happen and where they come from she could not say. She sat beside him on the piano bench, their legs touching.
She laid her head on his shoulder as natural as a helpless infant. “Please don’t ever stop playing for me.”
NAR © 2023
Originally published 2018
U.S.S. ARIZONA
Gregory Tomlinson stretched out on the top bunk, smoking his Lucky Strike cigarettes, watching the cloudy vapors swirl around the dimly lit corner of his berth on the U.S.S. Arizona. Some of the guys exchanged letters and treats from home, showing off photos of their wives and girlfriends. Others played cards and cursed at their radios saying “This news is a bore! Turn it off and find some Glenn Miller!” And the men all laughed like boys at summer camp.
“Hey, Gregory” whispered Leo Becker from the lower bunk. “Can I ask you a question?”
Gregory chuckled. “I think after eleven months trapped in this can you can ask me anything!”
Leo hesitated for a second then said “Ok, here goes. How come you never get any mail?
Gregory didn’t answer and Leo could have kicked himself. Lighting another cigarette, Gregory inhaled deeply and blew a perfect smoke ring.
Just as Leo was about to apologize Gregory summersaulted off his bunk landing seamlessly on Leo’s. “That is an excellent question, my friend.”
Leo was stunned. “I, a homely handyman from Reedsport, Oregon, am your friend?? With your Tyrone Power charm and good looks you probably have a girl in every port! All I have is this box of letters and photos from home.”
“Ha!” snorted Gregory. “Nothing could be further from the truth. Your box is very special, Leo; even if I had a box I’d have nothing to put in it. When I was 15, my parents were killed in a car crash and I was left alone – a family of one. No siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins – no one. I took off and made the Navy my family.”
“I have a question for you, Leo” Gregory continued nonchalantly. “How many nights have we sat on your bunk poring over the contents of this box?”
Leo rubbed his chin thoughtfully, mumbling “eleven months, 30 or 31 nights give or take a few here or there .. I’d say between 330 and 345” Leo calculated.
“And how many times did I ask you to describe Jenny to me?” Gregory asked as he stared at Jenny’s photo. Leo shrugged, unsure. Gregory stopped to light another smoke. “You told me how you said “hi” to Jenny the day you were painting her office at the school and she said “hi” back and smiled. You said you got lost in her eyes and you knocked over a can of paint! She had the sweetest disposition and didn’t get mad, even when the stodgy principal went nuts over the spilled paint.” Gregory sighed. “You said how you really started liking her a lot that day. You know why I asked you to tell me those stories about Jenny, Leo? Because I felt all alone but hearing you talk like that made me feel like I had two friends – you and Jenny.”
Leo barely had a chance to get his thoughts together when there was an enormous explosion, followed by continuous bombings and eruptions. Pearl Harbor was under attack. Leo quickly stashed his belongings into his knapsack and he and Gregory ran out to man the guns. The attack on the Arizona lasted about 11 minutes, long enough to kill Reedsport, Oregon’s own Leo Becker.
Upon Gregory’s medical discharge from the navy, he was summoned by his commanding officer and handed a box which he recognized immediately as Leo’s. Gregory’s name was written on an envelope attached to the box. When he opened the envelope he found a letter with an inscription:
“To my dear friend Gregory. I wish you could have seen how your face lit up whenever I talked about Jenny. You clung to every word I said. I never told you this but Jenny asked about you in every letter she wrote to me. Truth is, she was much more interested in you than she was in me. But you know what? That’s OK. If ever there were two people who belong together it’s you and Jenny. I love you both and you two love each other, too, even though you haven’t even met yet. Don’t waste another minute, Gregory.
You belong with Jenny and she belongs with you.”
Gregory’s eyes welled up with tears and he could barely make out the last few sentences. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he read on:
“My friend, I’ll be watching you from heaven. Call Jenny; her number is on the back of this letter. It will make me so happy knowing my two dearest friends finally found each other. Don’t forget your old pal, Leo.“
Gregory tucked Leo’s box under his arm and picked up his knapsack. He walked down the hallway and spotted a bank of telephone booths. He stared at Leo’s letter for about three seconds before reaching for the phone.
NAR © 2020
THE JOURNEY
Mid-August in Alabama is about as hot as hell’s back kitchen, or at least that’s what folks like to say. It was just me and ma making do as best we could since my pa got himself killed in some place called Vietnam. I don’t recall much about the day we got the news. Couple of soldiers in fancy uniforms came to the door and mama started wailing like she was being skinned alive. Ma never really got over that. Some folks said she went plum crazy that day. She’d sit on the porch in that rickety old rocking chair staring straight ahead, just mumbling to herself and fidgeting with pa’s dog tags like they was rosary beads.
I sorta became invisible to ma so I started spending my time down by the watering hole mostly swimming and fishing so we’d have something to eat. I went hunting one day, surprising ma with a rabbit and we cooked it up for dinner. Ma hugged me tight and put pa’s dog tags around my neck. Next morning I found her hanging in the barn and started screaming till the neighbors came running. That’s when I began living with the Jenkins Family. I was six years old.
The Jenkins’ was good hard-working farm folk and they treated me real fine. They had a truckload of kids – eight boys and one girl – but they didn’t think twice about taking me in. Ma Jenkins always said “Kids fill the house with love. What’s one more mouth to feed?”
At first the days moved slow as molasses in February. I knew right quick that farming wasn’t for me but I did my share every day. When I was about fifteen or so Ma Jenkins said I sprouted into a handsome devil, the spitting image of my pa. Right about the same time I started taking up with Nell Jenkins. Two years older than me, she was all legs, boobs and big sky blue eyes. We made love every night and she taught me stuff I didn’t think was possible. Somehow we never got caught. We was crazy for each other but I wasn’t looking to get hitched. I knew if I didn’t get off that Alabama farm I’d die there. One night while Nell slept I placed my pa’s dog tags on her pillow and slipped out. I was 17 years old.
I lied about my age and got me a job as a long distance trucker; hard as it was, it beat the hell outta farming. Shit! Where have the years gone? I been trucking now for 16 years. I’m only 33 years old and dog tired; I feel like I’m 103. I been thinking a lot about Alabama lately – maybe settling down, getting a job in a hardware store. A few days later I quit my job and went back to where it all began.
There was a nip in the air when I arrived home on the morning of New Year’s Eve. It felt like snow could be coming. The Christmas tree was up in the town square, the same weathered ornaments I remembered from my teenage years. I got out of my pickup and looked around a bit; not much had changed. A brisk wind blew in from nowhere; I rubbed my hands together and stuffed them in my pockets to stay warm. Snow hereabouts was almost unheard of.
Wiley’s Diner was still there. I went in and sat at the counter. It was early and the place was deserted. The cook popped his head out from the kitchen and asked what I’d like. “Coffee, please” I said and stared out the window as the first snowflakes started drifting in and I got lost in Alabama memories.
“Here ya go, fresh hot coffee. How about a slice of apple pie with that?” I turned to see a young waitress wearing a Santa hat, a welcoming smile on her face. She was a pretty little thing and I found myself staring into big sky blue eyes. My heart skipped a beat. She wore a name tag with ‘Stevie’ written on it; around her neck hung dog tags and I knew. Lord Jesus! This is my baby girl! I asked if her ma’s name was Nell and she smiled, saying “Yes. Do you know her?” I said I did a long time ago. I don’t know what possessed me but I scribbled my name and number on a napkin, asking her to kindly give it to her ma. She said she surely would and tucked it in her pocket. Choking up a bit, I lowered my head and busied myself with my breakfast. I couldn’t chance her seeing the tears in my eyes.
I tapped the brim of my cap and smiled, saying “See ya” to the girl wearing my pa’s dog tags around her neck. “Now don’t forget about giving my note to your mama”.
“No sir, I surely won’t” she replied with a smile and patted the pocket of her waitress uniform.
I walked back to my truck and sat for a long time in the cab, my face in my hands. Dear God, is this some sort of New Year miracle? Did you bring me back here to find my daughter? After so many years and thousands of miles I wondered if Nell would find it in her heart to give me a call.
NAR © 2019
This is Bill Keith and “Auld Lang Syne” bluegrass style, y’all!
RATED X
CHIMERA TORTOISESHELL KITTENS
AVAILABLE FOR ADOPTION!
MAKE SOMEONE VERY HAPPY THIS CHRISTMAS!
COME IN – ASK FOR LEAH
Gary did a double-take when he saw the sign on the marquee outside St. Thomas Methodist church. He’d always been fascinated by those distinctively mottled cats with an extra X chromosome. Gary supported humane societies and animal shelters, not pet stores. He knew people paid a lot of money for pets, especially the designer dogs some breeders ‘manufacture’ such as Labradoodles and Yorkipoos. Rescuing pets was more his style.
Not hesitating for a second, Gary walked inside and knocked on the open door of an office marked ‘Communities Outreach Program’. A pleasant female voice rang out “Come on in! I’ll be right there.”
Glancing around the room Gary noticed a large bulletin board full of colorful flyers about the church’s events: the weekly Advent wreath candle lighting ceremony, the upcoming Christmas pageant, a clothing drive for the homeless and a sign-up sheet to volunteer at a local soup kitchen.
“Hi! You must be Sam. The delivery is all ready for you.”
Gary found himself face to face with the most adorable woman he had ever seen. She was casually dressed in jeans, a Christmas sweater and a Santa hat; her short blonde hair barely brushed her shoulders. Dark-rimmed glasses couldn’t hide her luminous green eyes and her infectious smile displayed sparkling white teeth. Even without makeup she was radiant.
Somewhat dumbstruck, Gary said “Um, hi. I’m Gary, not Sam. Sorry but I don’t know anything about a delivery. I’m looking for Leah.”
“I’m Leah. Sorry for the mix-up. I’ve been waiting hours for a guy named Sam to deliver a truckload of groceries to the soup kitchen. I thought you were him.” Leah frowned.
“Actually, I’m here because I saw the sign about the kittens for adoption” Gary admitted rather sheepishly, wishing he was there for something more altruistic – like making a soup kitchen delivery.
“Oh, shoot! I forgot that sign was still up!” exclaimed Leah. “I’m sorry but the kittens were all snatched up except for the runt of the litter. Poor little thing – I took her home. She’s keeping my cat Othello company – not that he’s thrilled about it.”
Gary was visibly disappointed. “Oh, you’re kidding! Just my luck! I got excited when I saw your adoption sign. Well, I guess it wasn’t meant to be. I’ll get out of your hair now, Leah … unless you think I can help with something.”
Leah checked her watch; it was getting late and it looked like Sam was a no-show. Gary seemed like a trustworthy guy so she took a chance. Besides, he was wearing a Christmas sweater and a Santa hat, too; if you can’t trust a cute guy in a Santa hat, who can you trust? “Well, if you wouldn’t mind I could use a hand delivering those groceries.”
“Why not!” Gary answered – a bit too enthusiastically. “I don’t have anything going on tonight.”
“Great!” Leah answered – a bit too enthusiastically. “You’re a lifesaver, Gary! And I’m really sorry about the kittens.”
On the way to the soup kitchen, Leah and Gary chatted non-stop and discovered they had a lot in common. They were both friendly, outgoing people who enjoyed doing volunteer work, they loved animals and they were hopeless romantics. And they were both single. When Gary told Leah about his tabby Roxy who passed away 8 months earlier, it broke her heart and she could see why Gary was so disappointed about the kittens. What could have been a boring time turned into a really nice evening and they thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company.
When the delivery was done, Leah said “Gary, I want to thank you for all your help tonight. I know you were really hoping to adopt a kitten. How about we make that happen?”
Gary was caught off guard. “Leah, please don’t feel like you owe me anything! I didn’t help you because I was looking for something in return. I really like you and was happy to help. But if you’re serious about the kitten, then yes – that would make my day!”
“I really like you, too, Gary.” Leah blushed. “Let’s head over to my place so you can meet the kitty. I just have to warn you: watch out for Othello. He doesn’t like strangers and is pretty territorial. In fact, he barely tolerates me and that’s because I feed him!” Leah laughed.
To Gary’s ears Leah’s laughter sounded like crystal bells.
Arriving at Leah’s place, Gary was too excited to worry about Othello. He was speechless at the sight of the tiny chimera kitten resting on a blanket in a wicker basket. He gently picked her up and sat on the sofa cradling her in his arms. Leah’s heart melted watching the two of them.
“I’ll go make some coffee” Leah suggested. “You be nice, Othello!”
Out of the corner of his eye Gary saw a large grey cat in the hallway giving him the evil eye. “Ah, you must be Othello” he whispered. “Look man – please don’t blow this for me, dude. I’ve kinda fallen for Leah and just between us guys, I think she likes me, too.” Othello crept closer and sniffed Gary’s shoes. Placing his front paws on the sofa he stared intently at Gary, then nonchalantly jumped up and made himself comfortable leaning against Gary’s leg purring contentedly.
“Well, how do you like that!” Leah declared in pleasant surprise. “Othello’s taken a liking to you, too, Gary. I think we made a connection here tonight.”
“Yeah, I think we really did, Leah. And I have the perfect name for this little lady. Leah, say hello to Desdemona.”
“Ah, Othello and Desdemona, Shakespeare’s star-crossed lovers – but this time with a very happy ending.”
Leah sighed as she rested her head on Gary’s shoulder. “Thank you, Santa” she thought dreamily.
NAR © 2020
ALONE TOGETHER
Listen to the waves as they kiss the shore, the rustle of the beachgrass in the gentle breeze. The golden hues of sunrise pirouette gracefully on the terrace and across the bed. The start of another day, as blissful and serene as the one before it. Summertime.
Is that my heart beating deeply or yours? Both, you say. You caress my shoulders. Hold me in your arms as if it’s our first time, our last time. I feel free. I feel ageless. I feel more cherished than any other woman.
You are my one, my soul, my heart. I watch your profile as you gaze out the window, peaceful and content. My fingers curl through the hair on your chest, now grey. That does not matter. Only we matter.
How long have we been alone together? A thousand summertimes, you say. How long will we be alone together? For a thousand more, I reply.
You pull me closer, eyes dancing in the morning light. Let the world go on without us. We are here where we belong – alone together.
NAR © 2022
TWILIGHT TIME
Incorporating the word “astounding”, this was written for # Eugi’s Weekly Prompt July 19, 2022
Coffee mug in hand, I leaned over the railing of my little vacation rental staring out at the Great Barrier Reef. Recently divorced and childless, I was now truly alone for the first time in a dozen years.
“Glorious sunrise, isn’t it?” a smooth Australian baritone voice remarked. I turned my head to see a ruggedly handsome man with unruly blonde hair in jeans and a sweater.
We exchanged smiles and appreciative glances. I replied that it was indeed glorious.
He lingered for a moment or two, then declared “Well, I’m off. Snapper and mash for brekkie.” He walked a few steps and turned. “I wonder, do you like Semillon Sauvignon Blanc? “
I sipped my coffee thoughtfully and said “I haven’t had the pleasure but I do enjoy a good chilled white wine.”
“Meet me right here tonight; if you think this is a thing of beauty, you should see the sunsets. They’re astounding.” And he walked off, the clop of his boots on the deck the only sound.
He was right about the wine and the sunset. That was the last night I would ever be alone again.
NAR © 2022
FORCED FUN
“What the hell am I doing out on a night like this?” Glenn grumbled to himself, his mood worsening with every passing minute. “Freezing rain, my feet are soaked and I don’t even want to go to this damn office Christmas party!”
No one at his company knew that Glenn was planning to quit on New Year’s Eve. He was sick of his dead-end job, always being passed-over and stuck in a little cubicle all day. There’s got to be more to life than that!
Running into the little gift shop located in his company’s office building, Glenn spotted a small lapis lazuli ornament near the cash register and decided it would make a fine Secret Santa gift. As he reached for it, his hand bumped into a lovely feminine hand with sparkling fuchsia fingernails.
“Hold on, buster! That’s mine! I just left it on the counter while I went to get a gift bag.”
Turning his head sideways Glenn encountered a familiar face; it was the receptionist at his office. He always thought she was pretty but tonight she looked particularly fetching.
“Carrie, isn’t it? Well, I’m sorry but the rule is if you put something down before paying for it, it’s fair game. Besides, I’m in a hurry and I don’t have time to look around for anything else.”
Carrie recognized Glenn immediately. He reminded her of a dreamy Hugh Grant in his younger days – handsome and charming – just not at this particular moment.
“Glenn, right? Well, I’m in a hurry, too. The office Christmas party is tonight and this is my Secret Santa gift. You’re probably here for the same reason.”
“Guilty as charged” Glenn quipped. “Come on, Carrie. It’s been a crappy day. I just want to buy this gift, make an appearance at the party and get the hell out of there.”
“I feel the same way. These office celebrations are the worst! The last place I want to be is at that party but it’s mandatory, as you know. Nothing like ‘forced fun’!”
Glenn had to chuckle at that.
“Look, Glenn. There’s a bunch of other ornaments right over there. Just pick something and let me buy this one, alright? I did see it first, after all.”
“Oh, alright! It’s all yours, Carrie” Glenn conceded and dashed off to look for something else. He quickly found a small gold star ornament, grabbed a gift bag and returned to the register just as Carrie was finishing up her purchase. She gave Glenn a little smile and headed out into the lobby. He couldn’t help noticing her shapely legs as she walked away, heels clicking on the marble floor.
“So, we meet again” declared the voice beside Carrie as she waited for the elevator. She felt a slight rush knowing it was Glenn.
“Or maybe you’re following me” Carrie replied coyly, hoping she wasn’t blushing. She and Glenn never really spoke to each other at work but he always caught her eye. Glancing at him Carrie was struck with how intensely blue his eyes were. At the same moment Glenn was thinking how very kissable Carrie’s lips looked in the shimmering light of the lobby’s chandelier.
They stepped into the elevator, the only two occupants as it made its slow ascent.
“Mind if I ask why you’re dreading this party so much?” Glenn inquired.
“That’s easy!” Carrie replied. “I hate my job! The people are unfriendly, all I do is answer the phone all day and give directions to rude visitors. I’m bored to death and capable of so much more. If I tell you something will you promise to keep it a secret?”
Glenn nodded and gave her the ‘zipped lips’ sign.
“I’m quitting on New Year’s Eve” Carrie whispered.
“No kidding! So am I! I hate my job, too. But mum’s the word, OK?” Glenn whispered back conspiratorially and they stared into each other’s eyes for a lingering moment.
“Any idea what you’re gonna do?” Glenn asked.
“Not really” Carrie sighed “but I’ve always dreamed of running a bed and breakfast in Maine.”
“Sounds delightful” Glenn replied wistfully. “We used to vacation at my grandparent’s lake house in Maine when I was a kid. It’s gorgeous up there – a really great place to settle down.”
The elevator door opened to the office party in full swing. Glenn and Carrie groaned and deposited their little bags on the Secret Santa gift table. He went one way, she went the other but every few minutes they found themselves staring at each other across the room.
After a short time Carrie casually made her way to the elevator. She was just about to make her escape when she heard that familiar voice cry out “Hold the elevator!” and Glenn rushed in breathlessly.
“I was wondering…..” they said at the same time and laughed self-consciously.
“You first” prompted Carrie.
“I was thinking perhaps we could get a drink somewhere and talk about Maine” Glenn suggested.
“My thoughts exactly” Carrie replied. And when they stepped outside they discovered the freezing rain had changed to snow.
“Looks like one of my Christmas wishes came true” Glenn remarked, delighting in the sight of snowflakes kissing Carrie’s hair.
Carrie smiled up at Glenn. “Would you .. um .. like to go to my place?” she asked, her eyes twinkling. “We could start a fire, decorate the tree …..”
“I’d like that very much” Glenn replied and slipped his fingers between hers.
NAR © 2020
The Elephant's Trunk 