#NovemberNotes Day 9/Saturday Mix: Poem – Shadorma – “Be a Riser” #amwriting #poetry #hope #saturdaymix


For November Notes the Day 9 song is called ” 1-800 – 273 – 8255″ Logic featuring Alessia Cara and Khalid. I reversed the songs for Day 8 and Day 9 so Day 9’s actual song was completed yesterday. As per usual combining prompts with Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Saturday Mix Prompt of a shadorma form poem about emotion.

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Credit: Ricardo Gomez Angel via Unsplash

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“1-800 – 273 – 8255” by Logic featuring Alessia Cara and Khalid

—–

“The Shadorma is a Spanish poetic form made up of a stanza of six lines

(sestet)  with no set rhyme scheme.

It is a syllabic poem with a meter of 3/5/3/3/7/5.

It can have many stanzas, as long as each follows the meter” (Popular Poetry Forms).

——-

You’re on the —

Low of life that’s fine,

Just take time,

Realize —

No one can see the future,

Sit down, stay awhile.

—-

Take your time,

Value the time you have,

So your low,

Many more —

Are deeper in dirt than you,

So, rise another day.

——

If you’re here,

You matter a lot,

Building life —

Takes much time,

Nothing is perfect, it hurts,

Rise to the challenge.

—-

You don’t want —

To be alive but —

You don’t know,

What it is

Truly breathing free, inhaling —

Life is tough, rise up.

——

Find your help —

Seek out others to —

Stop the thoughts;

Those anxious,

Murmurs insecure and bleak,

Rise you are not weak.

—–

Emotion’s bleed,

Guy or girl life hurts.

Healing is —

A process.

Don’t quit, don’t give in; fight on —

Sun always rises.

——

Your life is —

Precious but, —

You hear what you feel;

Alone with —

No hope or —

Reason to survive, find faith —

God cares, she cares, rise.

—–

You matter,

You’ll see put down your —

Weapon, don’t inflict —

Dying wounds.

Breath, seek help,

There are phones beyond no home,

Let her in and rise.

——

She wants you —

To feel the light’s glare,

Sunshine with,

Delightful —

Rays of hope; fight on, don’t end —

Your life, rise up, swim.

—–

You don’t want —

To try anymore,

But there’s her,

Heart beating —

Next to yours, so hope, believe,

Rise for tomorrow’s.

—–

Tomorrow,

Never dies, the —

Words are true.

Life is yours,

Your legs tremble so walk on,

Rise, you’re valuable.

—–

Innately you;

Irreplaceable.

If you left,

Her heart would —

Shatter; others too would wonder,

Why such promise fell.

—-

Let them in,

They can’t see inside,

Thoughts rolling,

So fast, get —

Their attention, ask ’til —

Taking their hands you rise.

—-

You want life,

You choose it crying,

Not easy —

To admit,

You want to be alive, not dead,

Rise up, live well.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

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Interview Sangbad Mitra: Writer, Blogger, and Go Do Go Barista #amwriting #interview #nonfiction


Welcome to a new interview, this week I’m interviewing Sangbad Mitra a writer, blogger, and barista at the Go Do Go Cafe, where his interview will be simultaneously featured. Please check out this blog to read some wonderful writing and to submit your own work should you wish. For now, let’s get on with an interview with Sangbad Mitra and his blog: Thoughts of Words: Let the Words Get Freedom and Thoughts A Stage


Sangbad Mitra
Credit: Sangbad Mitra

1. Sangbad, Please Tell Us About Yourself?

I’m Sangbad Mitra from India. I live in Kolkata, West Bengal which is also known as the Cultural Capital. My blog name is Thoughts of Words. Kolkata is one of the major Indian cities. I live in the south of the city which is popularly known as ‘South Calcutta’ or ‘Kolkata’—however, you take the name of a country. There are malls and colleges in this portion.  There is also a bypass in front of my home and there is a National Highway two kilometers away.

2. When Did You Being Writing and Blogging? Was there a Reason you Did? What Do Blogging and Writing Mean to You?

I’ve been writing for more than a decade. Teacher’s Day will be the thirteenth year of my writing spree. Most of these years, I’ve been a closeted author/poet, until this November. After my last and my first true relationship ended abruptly. I needed to vent my feelings in order to remain calm. I started writing to deny the call of addiction such as alcohol and drugs. And I re-embarked on my writing journey. Before that, there was a gap of two or three years where I hadn’t written anything. It was a relief to write the world a few stories and poems again. 


” I started writing to deny the call of addiction such as alcohol and drugs. And I re-embarked on my writing journey. Before that, there was a gap of two or three years where I hadn’t written anything. It was a relief to write the world a few stories and poems again.”  Sangbad Mitra


3. Where do you Find Your Inspiration and Motivation to Continue Writing and Blogging? What is it important to you to continue with your writing and blogging? 

     When I began my blog, I used to write out of nemesism mostly. But, in April, this changed. I participated in the National Poem Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). On the first day, the prompt was to write a poem such as Kay Ryan wrote, and I wrote a poem. It was called “Crow.”

The next morning I saw that my poem had been featured on the NaPoWriMo prompt website. This made me think and change my view on life. I stood in front of mirror asking why I had been writing what I had been, before. That’s when I began I writing what I wanted to write and not what other wanted me to write. When I write poetry, now write to express my thoughts and my view, all because my poem about my pet crow was featured for NaPoWriMo. 

As well, my writing became a cathartic process. In my new phase of writing, my inspiration mostly came from my broken relationship. I wrote to keep thoughts of her out of my mind, to ‘forget’ about her. Before, when I used to feel depressed or low,  I wrote using my experiences, writing what others would like. That was my purpose in writing. Nonetheless, I was satisfied with the changes in my writing after 1st April and NaPoWriMo. Now, I write what is on my mind, directly, and this is freeing.

Another thing that inspires and motivates me is my city, Kolkata. The vibrancy, the vibe, the beat of my city inspires me. I also have a section on my blog for writing about my city, under the Anthology section of my blog.


4. What are your Writing and Blogging Habits? Where do you Most Enjoy about Writing? Is there a Particular Time of Day you Prefer to Write? 

I don’t have any particular writing habits. You may find me on the subway and writing on phone or do the same while taking the bus. Standing and writing on my cell phone is pretty typical for me. I use the WordPress app to write on. Although, at night, I maintain a diary.

Additionally, I like writing about the citizens of Kolkata. I write about people such as my Lady neighbor. She’s a recurring character in many of my Kolkata series poems. As well, the neighbor’s Neem tree also is the topic of some of my writing. There’s a poem called “Neem, my Neighbor”  about this tree from NaPoWriMo.


 “Another thing that inspires and motivates me is my city, Kolkata. The vibrancy, the vibe, the beat of my city inspires me. I also have a section on my blog for writing about my city. . .” -Sangbad Mitra 


Sangbad Mitra
Credit: Sangbad Mitra

5. What Are Your Most Current Writing Projects with your Blog and Outside of It? 

Right now, for my Thoughts of Words blog (I just call it my “Thoughts” blog), I’m writing a novella Captive which is in hiatus state now and will continue in July. Outside of this, I’m also writing stories which I’ll share once a week beginning next month, in place of my serialized novel Fables of Time. I’m also writing more fables for this series and will share them on my blog when I’ve written considerably more of them.

These fables are something I’m also writing, outside of my blog. Other projects I’m working on outside of the blog include preparing my Chapbook for self-publishing. A portion of this chapbook will be the poems I wrote for NaPoWriMo. There’ll be forty poems in the book. A third project I’m working on outside of the blog is an epic novel. 


6. Have you Published Any Writing or Poetry Before your Recent Plans to Publish your Writing? Can Your Briefly Describe Your Writing Process?

No, I haven’t published any of my writing at this point. By the end of the year, I aspire to publish the Chapbook.

When am writing a poem, I write my piece and then I read it few more times before putting my signature to it. In the case of writing a story, after I complete writing a chapter or a short story, I set it aside. It reread my chapter or short story and then after a few days, I rewrite the portions I’m unsatisfied with. I also rewrite parts of the story I feel is not what I want them to be.  In the case of essays, I write them over a day or two before finishing the final draft.  So, it’s writing, rewriting, reading, and re-reading.


 “When am writing a poem, I write my piece and then I read it few more times before putting my signature to it. In the case of writing a story, after I complete writing a chapter or a short story, I set it aside. It reread my chapter or short story and then after a few days, I rewrite the portions I’m unsatisfied with.” – Sandbad Mitra


Sangbad Mitra
Credit: Sangbad Mitra

7. Do you Prefer Certain Areas of Writing and Readings Genres? 

I’m much inclined to reading old Bengali classics than writing in the English language. As well, I prefer reading Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay over Mark Twain. For genres, I prefer to read/watch thrillers for the most part. In the past few months, I’ve read the Travelogue of Marco Polo and now am reading story collection of Kafka.

When it comes to writing, I prefer to write whatever it is I want to say. It may be words against terrorism or it may be words describing a summer night. The only genre I feel I’m incompetent is erotica, although, I’ve written few. Recently, I post one on Saturday’s if I’ve been able to write one.


8. Do you have Any Helpful Advice for Other Bloggers and Writers? 

My advice is to never stop writing. Write, share, and listen to what others are saying. Don’t get down or agitated because readers are useful as teachers to writers. Also, don’t be vain or self-proud. Pride can be the worst enemy and causes the greatest of writers to fail. I like to hear my readers’ views. Comments make me happy along with receiving ‘likes.’


“Write, share, and listen to what others are saying. Don’t get down or agitated because readers are useful as teachers to writers. Also, don’t be vain or self-proud. Pride can be the worst enemy and causes the greatest of writers to fall.” -Sangbad Mitra.


9. For fun, What Are Your Top-Three Favorite Blogs? What Do You Like About Them? 

Top three…there are more than three…but there are these two bloggers to whom I always remain indebted to in my blog journey. Both Meenakshi Sethi (my Elder Sister’s blog) and Gina Gallyot’s blog: SingleDust. I call her LoveDust. Both these women are my oldest followers but are also always pushing me to write whenever I want to quit. I read their reviews of my writing and I change my mind. Sometimes I also ask them how they tolerate my nagging and they inspire and help me despite my flaws. 


10. Please Share with Us Some Pieces from Your Blog: My First Post: The Morning That Was Serene and Melancholy

The Morning That Was Serene & Melancholy

by

Sangbad Mitra

(Posted: February 9, 2017)

*****

David Marcu UnSplash
Credit: David Marcu via UnSplash

*****

The morning is here…

Is it?

The gloomy sky, the shroud of smog…–

All is gray, all is cold…

Are you sure of it?

Yes, my friend…said the guest as he sipped on–

His cup of morning tea.

I haven’t looked at the sky for days,

The Death is not coming to me, my friend,–

Fast; it’s dragging…it’s dragging… The poet is lost for words.

The guest smiled and said, do you want it fast and quick?

The pale poet nodded his head and collected his breaths-

Even a small movement making him tired and drained out.

The guest smiled and passed him the vial, —

Bye, my friend, hope you have a safe journey…

The guest left the poet; the poet sighed.

He looked at the mirror, adjacent to his bed–

And saw the guest looking at him–

They smiled at each other…

With a trembling hand, the vial went up to the mouth..–

Few drops slipped out of the edge of his lips-chafed and dry…

The November morning out there, outside the room,

Was gaining a serene turquoise color…

*****


11. Here are Some More Pieces from Sangbad’s Blog:


Thanks to Sangbad for agreeing to interviewed and providing insight into his writing and life. If you would like to be interviewed for your writing, blogging, or cause you write or blog for, you can reach me through my contact page. See You Next Week!


© Mandibelle16. (2017). All Rights Reserved.

 

Photo Challenge: Poem – Blitz – “Returning” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo challenge. 

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Credit: Mario Gervals

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Aurora-borealis paints the sky

Hues of light to charm

Charm the cold from old man winter’s grasp

Charm the sky hovering, colours delightful still

Still as the snow when it stops

Still as the young man in the living room

Room in a home where he’s troubled 

Room of the television — loud sports

Sports of the freezing weather

Sports loved best

Best loved is hockey

Best loved he watches, engrained 

Engrained in the screen

Engrained in the game 

Game on and he misses his wife as she drives away

Game of his wife searching for time

Time ended when she him left 

Time is new for her; he doesn’t care now

Now she moves on 

Now she is but thrilled

Thrilled, yet in a storm she drives

Thrilled to have escaped without another fight 

Fights always happen

Fights which got worse, never stopped

Stopped when she rethought her life

Stopped when she said, “I’m gone” 

Gone while the new sliver of a TV loudly plays

Gone, he knows it it, feels depressed

Depressed at the mess of his life

Depressed, slight lines etched into his face

Face with red eyes

Face with mouth stifling sobs

Sobs because she’s gone for good

Sobs because she gazed at him appalled

Appalled because he always yelled

Appalled because he’s why ‘they’re finished

Finished forever, she’s free

Finished, but she’s not safe in such a blizzarding storm

Storm outside flinging snow in his face

Storm outside, her car didn’t make it far

Far off and tired the look in her eyes

Far off but tears streaming ’cause she’s stuck 

Stuck in the bank of snow 

Stuck in her life, no escape

Escape life here, without him?

Escape yet, she’s glad, for her, he came 

Came, so she takes him back; he understands now

Came, so they return to times where they showed

Showed love, affection where no distance divides 

Now acts of love, little things, change the future

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Triolet – ” Lughai: the many shades of Blue ” #wordhighjuly #amwriting #poetry



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http://www.fullhdpictures.com

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Blues, shades, tones, tints, expressions had.

Lughai the colour, or feeling, 

How it is when you’re depressed, sad.

Blues, shades, tones, tints, expressions had.

But Lughai is also peace glad.

Tranquility, hope which truth sees.

Blues, shades, tones, tints, expressions had.

Lughai the colour, or feeling.

——

Room of serenity, heart peace.

Feeling safe, forever at rest.

Lughai I feel, time it ceases.

Room of serenity, heart peace.

Place in mind, trouble releases.

Nothing bothersome, no life pests.

Room of serenity, heart peace.

Feeling safe, forever at rest.

—–

Painting canvasses all blue, 

Choose your shade, change the Lughai.

Dreams through acrylic, all see-through.

Painting canvasses all blue.

Each tint of white lightens you.

Lost in the paint, a world so fey.

Painting canvasses all blue,

Choose your shade, change the Lughai.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Thoughts on Aging


Prompt: What are your thoughts on aging? How will you stay young at heart as you get older?

When you are young as a child or teenager and even in your twenties, it is difficult to understand aging. As in, you see a picture of someone you know well when they were near your age and it is difficult to see how they came from being a fresh faced handsome young man to a gray-haired face wrinkles from the sun overweight sixty-year-old. It is interesting how a person looks a bit the same in their old pictures, yet completely different. 

The first big age milestone in my life was eighteen because I could drink and buy alcohol in Alberta. My next big birthday was twenty-one because I could legally  drink anywhere in the world, even in Las Vegas and in L.A. My next birthday I remember of being if some significance was age twenty-five. I was still quite sick and not able to do much of anything but I thought it was something to be a quarter of a century old. I was happy with how I looked, my weight wasn’t too bad, and if I had my health I would have chosen to stay twenty-five forever. 

Now I’m thirty-years-old and I suppose the meaningful birthdays come less often after this, nothing of much importance until I am forty. I spent my thirtieth birthday in the hospital. This summer, my Doctor had me come into the hospital to do some major medication changes. I was able to take less of a cocktail of medications and the medication I needed as an antipsychotic would also help me as an antidepressant and a sleeping pill. On my birthday I was still quite new to the medication they put me on but my Mom and my eldest younger brother took me out to lunch to Earls. It was a nice location but I couldn’t have alcohol. Instead I had chocolate Carmel pudding cake for dessert.

I don’t know what to think about aging from now on. I read somewhere that from the years of fifteen to thirty-two years old we should worry about having fun and seeing the world and don’t worry about settling down until after that thirty-second birthday hits. What happens when I am thirty-two and I still don’t have my life together. For me the factor which is always present for me every year I age is my disease. 

To think about a life-time of possibly being depressed and having to deal with constant low energy levels scares me. What happens if I have to take a different medication and I become fatter because each medication of psychiatric drugs I take for awhile seems to add ten pounds? When do other side effects of medication take effect if they ever do?

 Will I shake when I’m old because of them? How will my lack of being able to be physically active effect me? Will it cause me a heart attack? Will it age me quicker? When am I not young and beautiful anymore? 

Will I have a husband, even if I can’t handle kids? Will he love me for another fifty years? Will I ever be able to live on my own? Will I always have no energy? Will it get worse the older I get? What do I do to live when I no longer receive disability payments? Will my brother’s marry and have kids? Will I see them often? Will I drive again? Can I fulfill my dream of writing books if it takes me so long to write? Will my parents grow very old, older then their seventies or eightees? What about my Godparents? What about it all?

Growing old is hard and overwhelming to me. I see old friends and they are happy, in shape, have good careers, have pets, marriages, have kids, and travel. I feel so far away from that way of life. I feel like I’m thirty in my body, but twenty-five in my head and in my life. I don’t know what keeps you young. Maybe, trying to have a positive attitude. Maybe having a life that’s full whatever your situation. But I’m scared. Not of death. But of suffering in life. Of that I don’t want any more. 

But when I wear myself out thinking and worrying I remember the Bible verse written in Matthew 28:20 “… and surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” Knowing I have God always with me makes growing old not as scary. 

——

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: A Sordid Affair


Apology: I’m sorry, this is way too long for Flashfiction but the story just developed and formed. I tried to cut it down and it’s still too long 😦

——

I am sitting by a government building and admiring its interesting architectural elements. I am waiting for my contact to arrive. 

It’s fall and I can feel the nip in the air as winter approaches. It’s why I have chosen to wear my new coat. It’s long, hits me mid-calf, and is made of a silk-lined pink-wool with black buttons.  My makeup is flawless down to the lipstick that matches my coat and my hair is curled artfully. I’m anxious, but I need to appear in control. 

My contact ‘Winston’arrives. He is dressed impeccably in a tailored suit and expensive shoes. He could be any government businessman. Winston looks at me and  I can tell from his calm expressionless demeaner he knows about ‘intrigue’ well.

“Do you have it?” I ask him curtly “you’ve had plenty of time.” He looks at me sternly, “time is money” Winston says and I hand him a small bag filled with twenty-thousand dollars. 

I stare up at Winston and hold out my gloved hand. He places a small memory stick in the leather of my palm and passes me a hard copy in an envelope. “It’s pretty obvious” Winston murmers matter-of-factly, ” Senator Smith’s wife is cheating on him. She has been for seven years. Two years after he found out, he began his own affair.”

“And before?” I  question.

 “He was faithful for the five years they dated. Since the day he meant her, he never slept with another woman until five years ago. Before Ashley, um you…  he was miserable. He channeled his energy into his work and became a young Senator.” I shook Winston’s hand,”anytime, Ms. Taylor.”

I stare at the memory stick with the evidence of Linda’s affair. I knew about the affair of course. Jamie’s wife Linda was the one who first cheated. He had loved her deeply. She had wounded him and he hadn’t recovered until he meant me. But Jamie was still married to Linda. A piece of his heart hung onto her, even though she was always with Daniel (Jamie’s cousin) and hardly spoke to Jamie. 

Slowly, I walked away from the ornate government building, walked down the street past some trendy shops, and into a restaurant called Linguini, where I met Daniel, Linda’s boyfriend. 

“She gets a divorce or she disappears,” I tell Daniel. Daniel’s face turns pale when I present him with the envelope Winston gave me.”Why does she string Jamie along Daniel? You and I could both be free to be with who we love, if only Linda would sign the divorce papers.”

Daniel sighs, “she won’t sign the papers because she gets almost nothing. Just a million for twelve years of her life.”

“But she cheated first and she hates him now. Jamie didn’t start seeing me until two years after Linda first cheated. She had her chance.”

“It makes me angry too, Ashley. I have lots of money, but she gets hysterical when I ask her about signing the divorce papers.”

“If she doesn’t the media will know what a whore she was. How she ripped apart her marriage with the senator, cheating with you. If that’s not enough I’ll have her sent away. She’ll never see you again Daniel.”

A growl comes from Daniel, ” I’ll get her to sign the papers. I wish you would have came to me and we could have worked out a better situation for both our lives, Ashley. You didn’t have to play dirty.”

Daniel left the restaurant quickly and I sipped my Mascoto deep in thought. Jamie arrived soon after, his eyes sparkling at me  serenely.” I have missed you so much,” he tells me kissing me softly and then deeply as we get lost in each other. 

Jamie sits down beside me and puts his arm around me while we order food and drinks. “I have something to tell you,” I start talking nervously. I tell Jamie the whole story of me highering Winston to dig up proof of Linda’s indescretions. When I’m done talking a tear escapes my eye and Jamie wipes it away with his thumb. 

“Ash, I wish you’d told me sooner. We both would have felt better if I knew what you were doing.”

“Are you mad?” I manage.

“No, not mad at all. This proves to me what I know; you love me and are faithful to me. You’re also a smart and savvy woman. I told myself I’d never be fooled by a woman like Linda again. That’s why I sent her the divorce papers and that’s why she’ll go to trial and get the death penalty if she doesn’t sign the divorce papers.” I gasp. 

Jamie’s face has gone rigid and I can tell it is difficult for him to say the next words:”We did have a child once. A little girl named Amber. She was sweet and only two when Linda strangled her for crying loudly when they were home alone one night. Linda said the noise was driving her crazy. . .” I huddled into Jamie stunned. With a vacant look in his eyes Jamie whispers,”she was my wife. I kept her secret. I thought she was depressed. Then I found out she was cheating.” 

“That’s terrible Jamie. I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this inside you all these years.” I whisper. 

He smiles at me, “two years later I met you and you made me feel whole again. I promised myself I would cut ties with Linda. She wants more money but I won’t give her a cent. She killed my innocent daughter, and I have all the evidence necessary to put her in jail on death row.”

The food arrived and Jamie and I ate hungrily keeping us from saying more about the situation. Although, I wanted Linda gone, apart of me wondered whether she had struggled with postpartum depression; maybe she was still dealing with a mental illness untreated. She did seem volatile.

One instant I was eating and the next I heard a commotion in the restaurant. Linda was standing at our table screaming at Jamie. Daniel was close behind her trying to calm her down. I guessed his discussion with her based on my threats hadn’t gone well. 

Linda threw the divorce papers on our table and shouted, “I want more money! If you don’t give me more, I’ll shoot the skank.” A handgun was pointed at my chest. Daniel and Jamie were carefully, attempting to settle Linda down and obtain the gun when Linda cracked and pulled the trigger. People screamed as the shot rang out. 

I felt a burning in my chest, then extreme pain. I saw the blood on my hands as I tried to stop the steady oozing with my thick wool coat. Everything was happening quickly. Then Linda held the gun to her own head and despite pleading from Daniel, and the sounds of horror others were making in the restaurant, the gun went off. I briefly thought about how many people at Linguini would be traumatized by this shooting;  not only Daniel, Jamie, and I. 

I shrieked, surprised I still had a voice. My head was cloudy and I ached in pain as Jamie was trying to stop the flow of blood on my chest and call 911. Daniel was a mess as he cried over Linda’s body. There was blood everywhere and I registered the noise and panic of the people around us from a distance. 

I slept fretfully for ages. I dreamt awful scenarios and I almost woke up before tumbling back into a nightmare. When I finally awake, I’m at a hospital and I can see out a window to the government building below. My memory is pricked but Jamie is asleep beside me, his head on the bed. I adjust my position on the bed as carefully as I can without hurting myself and waking Jamie. 

The funeral for Linda was weeks ago. Daniel was devastated, especially when Jamie told him about his past with Linda. He felt Daniel had a right to know the truth. 

I had been in the hospital a month in semi-consciousness. I almost died and Jamie had spent most of his time waiting for me, (while taking a leave of his senate responsibilities)to wake up and live the life we wanted together. “We’re free Jamie,” I tell him when I am allowed to leave the hospital. He grins and my pulse increases.

 “I thought I’d lost you Ashley. The doctors told me it was a long shot you’d recover. ” I held Jamie’s hand in solidarity. I was done with intrigue and blackmailing people, for now…

  
Thanks to Alistair Forbes for the prompt picture.