My smile it isn’t real, although I appear happy and unafraid. My smile is goofy and I’m laughing but in reality, I’m quaking inside. Clowns have always frightened me so much I used to have terrible dreams about them even into my teens; so many nights I woke up screaming in horror. My husband doesn’t understand it but standing beside this clown is my worst nightmare and he had better be grateful; it’s not everyday I take a photograph with my the thing I fear the most.
Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write about wondering what “future archaeologists, whether human or from an alien civilization, will make of us . . . exploring a particular object or place from the point of view of some far-off, future scientist.” Thanks to Michael of last week’s Tale Weavers from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie who provided a prompt about the moon. As well for A to Z Challenge for a GoodRead’s quote the letter today is the letter W.
” . . . All that is now / [a]ll that is gone/ [a]ll that’s to come / and everything under the sun is in tune/ but the sun is eclipsed by the moon.
“There is no dark side of the moon really. Matter of fact it’s all dark.” — Roger Waters
Gazing into the future, ‘neath a pale moon gleaming bright,
Hard to believe, people who were, saw the same moon’s shining light.
They had houses, electricity.
So many ethnicities.
It’s different now, the gene pool changed,
Those who look unique all estranged.
All look like us, all brown eyes, dark hair, and medium skin too.
I can scarce picture blond, red-haired, green eyes, or eyes so blue.
Genetic defects they called them, so now we’re all plain, the same,
It’s weird to think, they dyed their hair, all colors, none went gray.
How was it to be individual,
Not for the whole good — sacrificial.
What makes a person now is,
Incredibly different knowing this —
Society of people who fell as those before left their cities,
Frames of what once was, rusted metal, not all that pretty.
Their language full of slang, we cannot pin down lingiustics,
Cannot find words, spoken globally, their lyrics I sing.
But their music is strange, listened —
To some and our technology it fits.
Technology they had weird, but we —
Discover strange things, sound gleaned.
Words not understandable but melodies clear and bright,
Music is forbidden, I sing in secrecy to ancient tunes light.
Some days we watch their stories, their films, when the moon is round.
My favorite days, those brilliant plays, words with lovely sound.
And we find little toys, scrapbooks, phones,
While in the distance the guns drone.
Each man, each woman a soldier,
Controlled by who knows? With no souls.
No hope as those gone far ago had, of a war ending soon,
Gazing into the future, we lived under the same moon.
I’m anti frantic today which is a wonderful, that man at the department store was really laying on the apple butter; I almost went ape, I’ma married woman you know. At least the ankle-biters are all in school now and I don’t have to deal with their bashears, but I need to beatfeet so I can meet the ladies at church, we’re having some used clothing sale of clothing in good condition to raise bread for the homeless. Some reporter from the paper is here too writing a book and he took my picture by the Reverand’s truck; I wish he’d beatfeet, I’m a busy woman.
Please see Fifties Web here, for all definitions of the fifty’s slang terms used (in bold).
Good Morning! I’m thrilled to share with you another blogger and writer for my bi-weekly interview series. For personal reasons The DifferentOnecannot share her true name. But she is a talented blogger trying to find herself in life through her writing and blogging. Her blog is called: Standing Out As The ‘Real Me’.
1. Please Tell Us About Yourself?
I used to use the pseudonymAirg but now I go by The Different One. I’m from the USA but my origin is Indian. I can’t share a picture of myself for personal reasons, but I am a girl.
I attend school and afterwards I share my experiences during the day on my blog. I’m told a have a pretty mature mind for my age. Sometimes I act my age. I only let people who know me well see I’m your average girl. I suppose I’m afraid to see certain people’s response if I don’t act maturely most of the time. I’m smart and intelligent, but other kids didn’t especially appreciate this fact. Particularly, during my preteen and teenage-age years, life was tough for me.
Something interesting about me was that I wasn’t supposed to be born. There were issues at my birth. The Doctors said I’d lose an eye, lose a leg, or die during my fourth month of life. But this didn’t happen thankfully.
I was born two-months premature at about seventeen-inches, weighing only a pound. But despite having issues at birth and when I was a small baby, it doesn’t affect me now. I had a blood infection when I was born. But, I survived and today I’m your average girl.
2. So How Do You Feel About Yourself Today?
Some people receive gifts or talents such as strength, beauty, or intelligence. Although, I’m smart, I’ve never felt pretty. Sometimes you see people walk by and think, “That person is pretty.” But it isn’t the case with ME! I don’t pay attention to what others think of my appearance because beauty is not my gift.
I have a medium brown complexion, which I think is an unattractive feature for a person to have. I used to worry about it. At school even though people don’t particularly try to be rude, Ican tell by their facial expressions what they think of my appearance.
It is and was difficult to be a girl who isn’t attractive. I wanted to standout at school and be noticed for my looks as some girls are. But, one day I realized beauty isn’t important, nor what others thinking about my appearance. I’m just me. God gave me, myself as a gift and I’m satisfied with her.
By the way, I don’t believe in popularity and certain religious principals and beliefs. I do believe, however, God gave me life, guides me, and allows me to take a hold of my life in the direction I best see fit. I guess you can tell now, I don’t talk as a person of my young age usually does.
” [O]ne day I realized beauty isn’t important, nor what others think about my appearance; I’m just me. God gave me myself as a gift and I’m satisfied with that.” – The Different One
3. When Did You First Start Blogging and Writing? What Value Does Writing Have To You?
I started blogging a few weeks before my birthday on June 23, 2016. Writing means a way I can show people who I am. A way they can appreciate me for who I am. I write to share my experiences and journey through life. Perhaps I write to find the real ME, I’ve been searching for her for a long time.I want to be able to act like myself and not feel judged.
4. Where Do You Find Your Inspiration and Motivation to Write?
Whoa! This is tough! I started writing to find myself as I mentioned above. I was going through a stage trying to figure out my purpose and who I am; an experience everyone goes through at sometime. For me this stage occurred earlier than I expected. Nothing particularly, motivates me to write except myself sitting down and writing. I write for me, alone, if that makes any sense.
My inspiration is my cousin Nimi. She’s the reason I can say I’m happy to go through this stage I’m experiencing. We have always had this sisterly connection since I was six-years-old. In a way, she inspires me to be the person, the human being I am today. In this way she is an inspiration to me when I write. Other wise, I honestly don’t know what inspires or motivates me in my writing.
“Writing means a way I can show people who I am and they can appreciate me for who I am. I write to share my experiences and journey through life. Perhaps, I write to find the real ME I’ve been searching for, for a long time. The me I can’t act like at the moment, but I want to be able to act like.” – The Different One
5. What Time of Day Do You Most Enjoy Writing? Is There a Purpose To Your Writing? Have You Ever Had Any Writing Published?
Well after 3:00 pm is the best time for me to write because that’s when school ends. Mostly, I write from 6:oo pm through 10:00 pm. My purpose or project is to find my path in life, at the moment.
I have some writing pieces which I thought about publishing before. People at school used to try to act cool. To me it was as if they were acting so ‘sunshiny’ all the time; they weren’t authentic. They were hiding behind a shadow. I wanted to explore this shadow people hide behind and find out who they actually were. I approached my writing as if I was trying to get to know these people and their personas. I guess when I wrote, it fell into the topic of human psychology. But I don’t do that kind of writing anymore on people’s false personalities; however, I do plan writing more about human psychology, growing-up, life, and my beliefs in the future. That’s my ‘thing,’ my area of expertise.
6. On Your Blog, Do You Have Any Publishing or Writing Process You Go About? Are There Any Writing or Read Genres You Prefer?
I have no idea how I publish, even on my blog. I just write stuff and see what comes out. Publishing for real is something that will come much later for me. I have no writing process really. I am not writing as a professional. I want to write like me, to express myself and what I’m going through. I write,write,write and post it on my blog if I feel like it. That’s about it.
I enjoy writing about experiences in life, human behavior mostly. I always write something about humans and how they feel and react. I love reading biographies about famous individuals such as Anne Frank. I also enjoy reading realistic fiction or diaries which have been published.
“People at school used to try to act cool. To me it was as if they were acting so ‘sunshiny’ all the time; they weren’t authentic.They were hiding behind a shadow. I wanted to explore this shadow people hid behind and find out who they actually were. I approached my writing as if I was trying to get to know these people and their personas more.” – The Different One
7. Do You Have Any Helpful Advice for Other Writers? Is There Anything Else You Would Like to Share With Us About Your Self or Your Blog?
I don’t specifically have any helpful advice for other writers because I know some people might not listen to my advice. All I can say is for bloggers and writers is to write whatever you want.Be who you are and write, even with mistakes and spelling errors. Simply write and whatever comes out, comes out. Write like you!
I feel my writing journey will end sometime. I won’t write until I die on my blog. Once I figure out who am and deal with the realities of life bothering me, than for me, I’m done. I’ll remember writing and blogging as a ‘finding me,’ exercise in life.
My best friend died about a year ago. March 15,2015. I remember it very clearly. My grandparents called and it was 11pm night in USA.It was awkward because they never call at that time, we would be sleeping, But,that day my family was busy with stuff.
Phone : Beep beep
Mom: Your grandma might be calling. It’s late!
Grandma: Saying stuff.
Mom: Aww. Poor thing. When? I can’t believe it. When we used to visit India it was always there. *******( my name) loved him. I won’t tell.
Me: ( I was thinking it might be about Tyson. He was getting old. And dogs don’t live that long) Mom anything happen? Tyson?
Mom: No,no, he’s fine.
Me: Mom c’mon!
Mom:(Saying in a language I didn’t know to my dad random stuff.) I heard Tyson’s name though.
Me: Tell me! Is he dead? I started crying a bit.
Dad: No! He’s just in hospital. Stop crying.
Few days later I go on Facebook. But, now I don’t have it anymore. I see a post from my uncle’s account. It was posted March 17,2015 12:56 pm or am. It had a pic of my dog wearing sunglasses. It said something like” not forgotten”. I was like” huh”????? In the comment section everyone was saying “Rip”. I was like wtf. Something is totes wrong!
I called my uncle even though it was 2am in India. I screamed and cried. He said no no. They were kidding. Nothing happened. And all that shit. But, I believed it though.
That summer when I went to India I saw my uncle. I asked him at the airport what actually happened to Tyson. He told me this shitty story about a doctor having a lot of loans, so he took all the animals and ran away, Tyson was with them. I’m like stop! Tell me. But, at that point I knew he died. I just wanted to hear it from my uncle’s mouth. He said Tyson is dead. I started crying.
The whole 2 hour drive I cried. When I reached my grandparent’s house my face was crispy and dry, gooey at some edges.
I visited his graveyard and prayed. I learnt that he was sick one day. He threw up. And usually my grandma cleans it up. But,she just came from the hospital ,so my grandpa did. And he was staring at my grandma. Then he slept for a while, and wasn’t replying. My uncle was on tour. And my grandma called him immediately and said something happened to Tyson. And Tyson was my uncle’s son. He rushed back home but 6 hour drive though. My uncle’s friend came and in a blanket carried Tyson to ambulance.
After a few minutes in the ambulance, the thingy that shows if they are breathing normal was going straight. Then the nurse said,” Sir he is no more!” My uncle’s friend came with the bad news. And everyone cried. My grandparents fell sick because they were in grief.
My grandma closed his eyes and after my uncle came back they did his funeral. They dug him up near a field near our grandparent’s house.
Every time I go there,I see his graveyard and pray and cry.
But, time goes on. I can’t go on praying to God to see Tyson one more time. It won’t work. I kept saying,” Take my life. Not his”. But, c’mon guys. He’s gone alright. Gone.
This summer in India I got a key-chain with a piece of rice. It had his name on it. I put all my sadness in it.
The day before yesterday our family went to the beach. It was 8-9pm. I took the key-chain put all my emotions in it and threw it away. It kept coming back though, so finally I took it out of the box and threw it. I realized that he’s not dead to me anymore. He’s a part of me from now on. I shouldn’t be sad because I can’t see him. I believe he’s always there watching. When I grow up I’ll realize he wasn’t watching, I said that to make me feel better. I do know he isn’t. I know he’s dead. But, who said I can’t lie or believe in something to make me feel better about him.
I buried a letter about him in the sand. Whoever reads that years from now on will know about this foolish girl and her best friend.
Yes, yes, a dog as a best friend is foolishness for all of you guys. But he was my closest buddy until I was 3 years old. Don’t you all think I loved him like crazy?!
His death or absence made me look at animals differently. I don’t get too attached anymore because I don’t have that much left in me to get hurt. I am not tough, or strong physically and emotionally. I’m sensitive and emotional. I can’t go through anymore deaths.
I don’t believe in having multiple BFF in life. Have one for once and for all. Tyson will always be my best friend forever. Humans, nah, anything could happen. Lol. To be safer and happier I’d stay with one forever.
9. Here Are A Couple of Additional Links to A Different One’s Page:
Thank You To A Different One For Sharing With us her writing views and her journey to find herself and her path in life through her writing. I wish her all the best and hope that she finds writing not only helps her as she struggle through a difficult time now, but as she grows older. Once again here is a link to The Different One’sBlog:
Thank You for coming back and reading my bi-weekly interview series. I so appreciate your visits and those of you who have participated sharing about yourselves and your writing processes, whatever part of life you are in. If you would like to be featured in my bi-weekly interview series please reach-out to my on my contact page. Thanks and see you in two-weeks.
Welcome back to my bi-weekly interview series. I’m not sure where you are in the world, but here it’s November and winter has set in –well not quite but it’s coming. Last year we were lucky to have such a warm winter but it doesn’t seem nature is going to be so kind to Alberta this year.
My name is Olaleye Abayomi Immanuel (David Pebbles). I’m a Nigerian from the southwestern part of Nigeria and I’m a proud son of the state that had an anthem before Nigeria – Ogun State. I am not someone given to taking pictures, as I find it awkward and too strenuous. But for the sake of the interview I will let you have a picture (above).
I am a Christian that is extremely passionate about God, life, and the intriguing delight which comes from pursuing one’s vision and calling in life. I am a graduate of Building Construction Technology and also a tech and gadget enthusiast.
I am also a multi-pod with a positive mental posture and outlook on life, a voracious reader, and lover of people. I can be quiet or talkative depending on the situation and the people around me but mostly, I consider myself an introvert. I am also a hard worker especially with beliefs, activities, and hobbies I am passionate about.
3. When Did You Begin Writing and Blogging?
I never knew I would become a blogger someday. I have always been a scribbler and voracious reader since I can remember. I would save my lunch money to buy novels. While I was growing up, if you were looking for any missing books, magazines, or anything readable, they could all be found in my room.
I always write things down anywhere I’m able. Most of my scribbling is actually anecdotes, words of wisdom, and thoughts that I had earlier thinking about reading something. Sometimes novels but most often verses found in The Bible. Being a quiet person gives me ample time to read The Bible alongside a dictionary while I jot down thoughts or insights I gain while reading God’s Word.
I think began blogging intensely, commenting on blogs I read for a start. The first time I commented on a blog, I was skeptical if what I wrote was intelligible. Then, I wished I could erase my comment but unfortunately, I had clicked the send button. I prayed quietly in my mind that the writer of the blog wouldn’t approve my comment.
I declined to view the post again, until late at night three-days later. It took all the mountainous courage to look at the comment I had made. My comment hadfive likes! I was on cloud nine.
That was in 2014. Proceeding the comment, I opened up a blogger account on WordPress which didn’t get used at first as I was too scared of figuring out the whole blogging thing; however, I returned to my blog and began blogging often in November 2015. It has been an awesome experience. WordPress bloggers are so nice, supportive, and great bloggers all around.
“I never knew I would become a blogger someday. I have always been a scribbler and voracious reader since I can remember. I would save my lunch money to buy novels. While I was growing up, if you were looking for any missing books, magazines, or anything readable, they could all be found in my room.” – David Pebbles
4. What Does Writing and Poetry Mean To You And Why Do You Write?
Originally I wrote because I was bored and as a medium of escape from my solitary lifestyle. However, as time goes on, writing to me has become an extension of the intricacies that lie in the depth of my soul.
Writing to me means being receptive and bringing to materialization the billions of universal clues, images, sounds, and thoughts floating around the universe; these things can elude an unperceptive person.Writing is about demonstrating values, being encouraging, motivating people, and inspiring others to make positive changes to themselves and their environment.
Poems come naturally to me, even more than long form. I didn’t realize I could write poems at first. The first poem I wrote titled: “Unwanted,” was borne out of beliefs on abortion. I cried while writing the poem because it came from deep within me. It was as if I was an aborted baby.
“Writing to me means being receptive and bringing to materialization the billions of universal clues, images, sounds, and thoughts floating around the universe; these things can elude a unperceptive person.Writing is about demonstrating values, being encouraging, motivating people, and inspiring others to make positive changes to themselves and their environment.” – David Pebbles
5. Where Do You Find Inspiration and Motivation to Write?
Mostly my inspiration to write comes during my private worship time. Also inspiration for me comes from the Holy Spirit after reading a good book. Sometimes I don’t have any inspiration but immediately I place my hand on my computer keyboard or made up my mind to post something (of which I have no premeditation about) and inspiration flows through the guidance of the Holy Spirit.
Sometimes I find inspiration while walking down the street, while eating, or on a public bus; honestly, inspiration could be anywhere. When such inspiration comes, I immediately stop what I am doing to safeguard those line of inspired thoughts
6. Is There A Time Of Day You Most Enjoy Writing? Do You Have Any Future Projects You’re Considering?
My writing time is flexible; I for one don’t fancy regimented writing. Sometimes I write early in the morning, in the middle of the day, and sometimes late at night.
I have few writing projects I’m currently working on. Among them is the launching of an online magazine that focuses on Christian youths in general. I am passionate about self-development in youth. There are other projects of which I am thinking about how to express.
“Sometimes I don’t have any inspiration but immediately I place my hand on my computer keyboard or made up my mind to post something (of which I have no premeditation about) and inspiration flows through the guidance of the Holy Spirit.” – David Pebbles
8. Do You Have Any Published Works or Are You Working On Publishing Anything?
I have about four unpublished books and two finished drafts.One manuscript is currently being reviewed by an editor. Hopefully by December, my one book should be published. The other books will follow suit in time.
9. Can You Briefly Describe the Process You Are Experiencing While Publishing?
The first task after you have a final manuscript you’re happy with is to to send it to an editor and also to send some copies of your manuscript to trusted writing friends for review. From what I learnt from someone who had his book published, marketing is always the hardest part of publishing, especially for those that self-publish.
I am still considering the many platforms where I can make my books available. I do fancy an e-format before a hard copy book. I believe that when the times comes, it will go well with me and I will find the right platforms and ways to market my book. I want the book available to as many people as possible because probably, it will be free.
” I am still considering the many platforms where I can make my books available. I do fancy an e-format before a hard copy book. I believe that when the times comes, it will go well with me and I will find the right platforms and ways to market my book.” – David Pebbles
10. What is Your Writing Process Like?
The process can be as easy as slicing bread or sleety as making a Chapman. If I already have an idea to post, I will build on my writing making corrections along the way. Personally, writing and posting doesn’t take me more than a few hours even when I don’t have a leadon what to write.
Often, as ideas or inspirations occur, I will write, edit, and post, a piece within a few hours. I hate the torment of unpublished ideas or inspired thoughts and not being able to express them. Basically, I write as I think and thankfully enough I usually don’t need much editing on my posts.
11. Do You Prefer Certain Genres of Literature?
I am mostly into Christian literature which could be about relationships or motivational writings and poems; a quick view of my blog will reveal this. I believe in maximizing your strong point. This is mybasein writing.So much of my writing tends to be nonfiction and more personal.
I struggle with any other types of writing especially fictional. I’ve becoming much better at sharing nonfiction stories. I have no favorites but based on the number of views I have shared some below.
“Often, as ideas or inspirations occur, I will write, edit, and post, a piece within a few hours. I hate the torment of unpublished ideas or inspired thoughts and not being able to express them. Basically, I write as I think and thankfully enough I usually don’t need much editing on my posts.” – David Pebbles
12. Do You Have Any Helpful Advice for Other Writers and Bloggers?
Only two people I know, know I blog and they are random people I met in church. Nobody knows I blog from my immediate family. It’s a personal decision which has helped me a lot. I might plan to tell my family in future or they could find out themselves.
When I started blogging, I received no advice from anyone because I knew no one to look to for advice.But being a fast learner and playing around WordPress helped me a great deal initially.
Also when you write I would encourage writers to be theirunique self. Don’t write to impress anybody even when you don’t have a singlelikeor commenton your posts. Also, interact with other bloggers and don’t be a loner. Consistently writing is also a useful habit to take up.
13. Is There Anything Else You Would Like To Share About Yourself?
14. Please Share With Us Some Of Your Writing From Your Blog:
I find it difficult to pick a favourite piece from my writing as I could picture all of them with their hands raised up because they might feel hurt if not chosen. But all the same, l will pick some pieces randomly:
When you worship
Deep relief seared your souls
Tears respond in snaky path
Washing down the earnest
Of the yearnings wrap up
A squeeze from the dailies
Twisted and tumultuous origin
As if all once, warm presence embrace
Wrap up in such blessedness
You only response is tears
15. Here I Some More Links To Work On David’s Blog:
Thank you to David for the interview. I appreciate his willingness to be interviewed and answer so candidly and honestly each question. Once again, here is the link to David’sblog: David Pebbles Blog.
If you would be like to be interviewed about blogging or writing and would like to share with other writers, bloggers, and readers your unique writing process, please reach-out to me through myContact Page. See You in Two -Weeks 🙂
“Sorry do I know you?” A handsome man around her age asked Jolene.” You seem familiar. And well, you’re beautiful, who could forget you.” Jolene indulged the man with a smile. She was anxious to return to Kasia and Aunt Cathy. No doubt Auntie Cathy had spilled all of Jolene’s carefully guarded secrets to Kasia.
“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” Jolene told the man. “I’m only visiting Cathy Lumiere, with my daughter. I’m Cathy’s niece. I used to live with Cathy when I was in highschool.”
” High school that’s it,” the man mused smiling. He had beautiful lips Jolene thought and such long dark lashes covered his chocolate eyes. “You were the head cheerleader and Prom Queen, you dated Scott Jeune. I never liked that guy. He was obnoxious and a narsaccist if you ask me.” Jolene looked at the man thinking he didn’t realize how true his opinion of Scott was.
” What’s your name, Monsieur?” Jolene asked the man.
“I’m Luc Devreaux, Jolene. I own Chateau Blanc.” Jolene’s eyes went huge when she learned Luc owned the Chateau. She studied his face, staring. Jolene tried to remember if she’d ever seen a Luke Devreaux at the Chateau.
Luc cleared his throat and Jolene realized he’d been holding out his hand for her to shake. Instead of shaking her hand though, he went in for a kiss on each of Jolene’s cheeks. Jolene blushed. Luc smelt delicious, spicy, and citrus.
“How French of you,” Jolene said and Luke gave her a charming grin.
“You have been gone so long you have forgotten about your French roots?” Luc asked Jolene and she hesitated at Luc’s question.
“Well, I travel a lot for work. I wasn’t from Nice or even France originally. I was born in Montreal, Canada. And except for business I have lived in Ottawa with my daughter for five years now… I’m trying to picture you Luc as you looked when I was in highschool, but I can’t remember you. I’m sorry, I was a wild girl at sixteen and seventeen -years-old. I went out with many boys until I met Scott. Lucky, the thing with Scott was only temporary.” Jolene felt she was rambling but Luc made her nervous in a wonderful way. He made her feel as if it were fine for her to be herself.
“Well we went out a few weeks,” Luc began, “but I wasn’t living at the Chateau then. I inherited it from my father later. Mon pere and ma mere have been divorced since I was twelve and I lived with my Mother, who had custody until I was eighteen. But I visited my Dad here in the summer. I remember you well from when you went to high school. You were amazingly pretty, full of yourself, but what pretty teenage girl isn’t. I wanted to keep seeing you, but Scott asked you out. Even though, I was a few years older than you, all you cared about was Scott.” Luc said sadly.
Jolene thought hard. Slowly, a few threads of memories came together in her mind. She remembered a handsome guy, older than herself, who resembled Luc. She had met young Luc on the path to Chateau from the beach where she had been sun tanning. Luc had been good-looking in a classically handsome way, lanky and athletic. He wasn’t charismatic as Scott had been. But Luc as a young man was an unwavering presence. He was thoughtful and concerned about what she had liked and wanted to do. He had manners and everything wasn’t about himself. In addition, as he said, Luc had been older than Jolene. She had been attracted to the fact he was a university guy back when she was seventeen-years-old.
” I remember you Luc,” Jolene said happily. “You were visiting your father and we met on the pathway. It was dark and thundering and the waves were splashing high on the path. They waves were making it hard for me to stay standing on the pathway as I ran to the Chateau. You came and helped me across and we had hot chocolate together. We dated three-weeks, you were caring and concerned. I thought you were a real catch — until Scott. I was obsessed with Scott for far to long. I’m sorry if I hurt you, dumping you for Scott. You were the better guy.” Luc laughed and grasped Jolene’s hand between both of his larger hands.
“I’m glad you remember, finally,” Luc murmured. “I heard from some of the other staff that Cathy’s niece was going to be staying here awhile. I’m glad you are. I seem to remember we had quite a bit of fun in my old apartment when you were in senior year.”
Jolene lifted her eyebrows, “I believe we did.” Luc laughed.
“When you have time between visiting with your Aunt, come see me in my office. We can catch up… I never heard you had a daughter.” Luc added.
Jolene grinned her hands still enclosed in Luc’s warm hands, ” Yeah, she is great, fifteen now. I will come see you in a few days. I’m a bit run down from travelling and I have a lot of explaining to do with Aunt Cathy. . . when I left years ago it was quite sudden and we haven’t seen Aunt Cathy since.” Jolene admitted to Luc, unsure why she felt like being so honest with him.
” I’m not used to this again Luc. I haven’t dated or really done anything since my daughter was born. There’s been a few random dates but nothing concrete. It’s hard to trust someone for me Luc. Especially, after Scott . . .” Luc nodded brushing a stray hair out of Jolene’s face.
“It’s okay Jolene. We’ll just enjoy each other’s company while your here and see where things go. There is no pressure to do anything you are not comfortable doing.” Luc assured Jolene holding both her hands again.
Jolene looked into Luc’s eyes which seemed to pull her in and hold her close, like she wanted his arms to do now. She realized she had an affect on him as he tightened his hands around her hands and Luc’s breathing quickened.
” I work, I model a little and I run a chain of clothing stores for woman. I am with Kasia, my daughter as much as possible. I wasn’t always able to be with her when she was a bit younger as much.” Jolene said feeling herself flushing again under Luc’s stare.
“What a lucky girl to have a mother with such beauty and intelligence. I’m sure she inherited those qualities from you. I would like to take Kasia’s pretty mother to dinner, after she comes to visit me in my office. Oui?” Luc said. His voice sounded sexy to Jolene.
“Oui, Luc,” Jolene said quietly. ” Kasia will be surprised. She has gone on more dates than her mother has in many years.” Luc smiled at Jolene squeezing her hands in his still. Luc let Jolene’s hands go slowly, trailing his fingers along hers as he let his own hands drop and hers.
Jolene walked away from Luc back to her Aunt Cathy’s sitting room, willing herself not to catch her black boot heel on a carpet edge. She looked back once to see Luc standing where she left him in a hallway, watching Jolene walk away. She gave him a small smile and Luc waved.
George stared up at the ugly green water tower. He was a wiley guy for the age of seventy-six and truth be told, he hated the colour of the water tower. George rolled his eyes at people who called the water tower festive at Christmas and said: “like hell it’s a festive colour,” to anyone who would listen.
One day George talked with his bestfriend Andy and they decided to paint the water tower. Andy was a gifted artist and George had tenacity. They got the permanents needed from the Mayor’s office. Then they hired some boys to paint the tower with white primer. When it was dry, George and Andy went up and painted the lines in for the mural in black.
Some of the people in town were furious when they saw the design. Elma (who wasn’t much for change) and her half of the town council thought the water tower should be green. What George and Andy were painting was an abomination forcing religion on people. Elma filed a petition to stop the painting.
Meanwhile, Andy found every available artist of all ages who could volunteer and they began to paint the mural with colour. When the day came to reveal the mural the entire town stared in awe at the beautiful Nativity that was painted around their water tower.
Elma still insisted it be painted over back to green, but her appeal was denied and she passed away the next day a bitter women of sixty-eight. George and Andy were proud of what they had turned the water tower into.
Late that night, George looked at a picture at his bedside table of a luscious brunette in a bikini in the 1960’s. She had been his wife Lola. It was for her he had undertook the plan of painting the water tower. Lola had loved the Nativity story and Christmas.
Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting and Sonya of Only 100 Words for providing the prompt picture.
Amber was afraid of Santa. She couldn’t tell you why. He gave her a scared feeling. A feeling a four-year-old didn’t enjoy.
As the line became shorter Amber began to clench her little fists and grit her teeth. She didn’t want to sit on Santa’s lap.
“What’s wrong Amber?” Her Aunt Kylie asked, ” don’t you wan’t to see Santa and tell him what you want for Christmas? You’ve been a good girl, right? So, it will be no problem for you and you’ll get a candy cane,” said Aunt Kylie.
Amber pursed her lips and stomped up and down. “No Santa. Santa is bad. I don’t want to see him; this Santa is not the real Santa.”
Aunt Kylie shrugged and patted Ambers mess of hair. Amber waited and her fear of Santa increased ten fold when she went up to him and an elf put her on St. Nick’s knee.
It was then before Amber’s eyes Santa’s face changed. His eyes were black as coal and face changed into a monster with horns. He looked at Amber and smiled malevolently.
“Hello Amber” he whispered to her, “my name is Krampus. When you’re a naughty girl you go on my list. And when I come to your house Christmas Eve there will be no presents. I’m going to whip you with chains and lashes and take you down to the firey place all bad children go.”
Amber screamed loudly and Krampus transformed back into St. Nick. Aunt Kylie apologized for Amber’s outburst and Santa laughed and gave Amber a candy cane and an elf snapped a picture of Amber and Santa. Amber continued to squirm and push against Santa the whole time and Santa told her to be good as if he was a kindly gentlemen.
But Amber knew what she saw and heard. She knew come Christmas Eve, Krampus would come for her. So, on Christmas Eve she hid with a gun she knew her Daddy kept in his bedside table. And when Krampus came to find her she hid under the bed. But he pulled her out anyways and tried to whip her body. Then Amber pulled the trigger at his head and screamed.
Aunt Kylie, Mom, Dad, and Kylie’s boyfriend Vince all came running out to Amber’s room. They were all shocked to see a vile beast lying dead on Amber’s floor, a bullet hole in his forehead. He had cloven hooves and horns and a curly white beard. His skin was gray and disgusting and his eyes were terrifying. Even dead, they were evil and contained knowledge of a hell, where the worst children would go.
Amber laughed. She hugged her Daddy’s knee and pointed to the dead Krampus on the floor joyfully.