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Footsteps

Footsteps echoed in the darkness.  The stillness of the night allowed me to hear everything~
cats prowling in the bushes, a distant cough, joggers’ feet lightly touching the ground, and yes, those footsteps

I wondered who the footsteps belonged to.  They were firm, solid footsteps.  Self-assured.  This person knew who they were, what they wanted, and where they were going.  I admired that.  I always have.

The two men I have been most attracted to in my life had that walk…the one that told me they knew who they were.  The one that told me they knew where they were going.  No, they probably had a lot of doubts about who they were and where they were going, but what I mean is that they had this inner knowledge of who they were as a person and what they were willing to do and not do to remain true to themselves.  They knew where they were going in that they knew which lines they could cross and which they could not.

I liked that about them.  I still do.  And I hope that one day the footsteps echoing in the darkness will be coming toward me, toward my house, my person, my life.

(written from a prompt: footsteps echoed in the darkness)

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Chance Meeting

3WW

Today’s set of 3WW words is: rest, sidewalk, and twice. I chose to just pull a story out of thin air…

Twice Marianne tried to walk down the sidewalk to get to her car and twice she had run into an obstacle. The neighbor from three doors down was saying goodbye to his girlfriend the first time around and Marianne didn’t care to intrude on their smooching and grabbing of each other in very personal places so she had gone back home.

The third time around, she had to get to her car. If she didn’t, she would be late to pick up her nephew, Terry, at the movies. She couldn’t do that. Her sister was depending on her and so was her nephew. If Marianne was anything, it was punctual and reliable. As she neared the neighbor’s house, she watched as they seemed to be having a fight. He was walking away from her and she was pursuing him. It seemed like he had gotten mad at her and she was trying to make it up to him.

“I’m sorry Ben. I know it was wrong. I knew it when it was happening but I couldn’t stop myself. I’m so sorry, Ben. It won’t ever happen again.”

“You’re damn right it won’t happen again. You can screw around on someone else but not ever on me again. Do you hear me Virginia? Do you understand? I’m not taking you back. You can run off and screw your married boyfriend anytime you want but don’t ever come around here again!”

Marianne crossed the street. She had to get to her car parked down the block now or she would be late. Marianne figured she would cross the street and get passed the arguing couple and then cross again to get to her car. As Marianne crossed the street, a car came screeching around the corner and before Marianne could move out of the way, the car was upon her.

She woke up groggy, feeling like she needed a lot of rest but she had to get to Terry before it was too late. She got up off the bed she seemed to be in but before she could sit up, a young man’s arms gently reached for her and pushed her back down. “Marianne, you’ve had an accident. You’re okay but you have to go to the hospital with us. You’ll be fine. Just relax.”

“I can’t go to the hospital. Terry. I have to get Terry. He’s waiting for me. Terry…”

“She’ll be okay. I think she has a concussion but it looks like she’ll be fine. Let’s get her to the hospital.”

“Okay Doctor. We’ll get her there as soon as we can. Are you coming or shall we pass this on to the doctor on call?”

Marianne’s neighbor wanted nothing more than to get away from the philandering girlfriend. “I’ll ride with you. She’ll be fine but this one is mine. I’ll go along.”

As the ambulance drove off, the young doctor’s attention was riveted on his patient. Anything to get away from his former girlfriend.

Empowered

Writers Island Logo

This week’s Writer’s Island prompt is “empowered.”  Here is my contribution…

I’ve been through an awful lot and a lot of it could have been avoided if I had not been raised with certain traditional and cultural values.  Don’t get me wrong.  Values are wonderful but only if mixed with common sense and reason. Continue Reading »

When I was in college, my niece lived near my parents and when I went home for vacations, she spent a lot of time at our house. She was the cutest and one of the smartest little girls I had ever seen. I think she was about five or six at the time. Her favorite show was Sesame Street. The show having premiered when I was in 8th grade, I had never seen it before my niece began to watch it but I enjoyed watching with her. I found it entertaining and educational. My favorite character was Cookie Monster and I could not understand why my niece would start crying and leave the room whenever Cookie Monster came on the screen. I guess it was something about him being a “monster” that sent her running in a panic whenever Cookie graced the screen.

When my own kids were little, they enjoyed the show which gave me an excuse to watch Cookie Monster, one of my favorite characters. I also liked The Count and Oscar the Grouch. My girls had stuffed Cookie Monsters more than any of the other characters, probably because he was MY favorite and I’m the one who bought them the toys! I still love Cookie Monster.

Today, when I opened iTunes, it began to download some of the podcasts that I subscribe to. One of them, NPR Driveway Moments, featured Cookie Monster today. I listened to it as soon as it was finished downloading then I went to NPR’s website for more information and a video—a very cute video. I found out more about Cookie from listening to an interview with puppeteer Frank Oz, who was the voice of Cookie Monster (as well as Miss Piggy, Fozzie Bear, Sam the Eagle, and Bert). Frank Oz summarizes that one of the reasons that Cookie was so well liked and so successful is that his character is sweet, sensuous, and tactile. All he wants is his cookie. When he gets it, he’s satisfied. And, in Frank Oz’s words, “…he is not going to knock anyone down to get his cookie; he’ll go around someone to get it but he won’t knock them down. He cares about others even if all he wants is his cookie…” Yeah, I think he’s right. Cookie’s a sweet guy. That must be why I like him so much!

I thought I would share the website info with you. To hear the interview, you will need iTunes, which is a free download if you don’t already have it. If you have it, you need to go to Podcasts and search for NPR. The program this interview was on is called “Driveway Moments” and it is the most recent podcast in the series. It’s a seven minute program. Once you’re done listening to the program, you can go to the website to watch the short and entertaining video of the “in studio interview” of Cookie Monster. The site is: http://www.npr.org/blogs/incharacter/2008/02/cookie_monster_comes_to_npr.htm

 

 

Warming Sun

brilliant, warming sun

breaks through my window

I yawn, close my eyes

roll over, pull the covers

over my head

not yet, not yet

then it hits me!

it’s the sun!

finally, at long last, sun!

birds serenade and greet

the newly lit day

Just His Luck

Writers Island Logo

[Second Chance prompt for Writers Island]

Ricky couldn’t believe his luck! 

He always tried to be prepared but it was hard to study for a big test when the weather was so great outside and when his friends were out side his window yelling for him to go have some fun.  And that’s what he’d done yesterday.  He went to the arcade with his friends, then out for a burger and a Coke.  He had gotten home late and then tried to study but he was also very tired.  When Ricky started studying it was past eleven and before he knew it, he was falling asleep. 

At breakfast his mom wished him luck on his History final.  She knew he was having trouble memorizing some of the dates and names but she knew Ricky was a good student.  He’d manage to pull a wonderful grade, even though he said he would probably fail.  All the way to school Ricky tried to look at his notes and quiz himself.  He was worried.  He needed to pull an A on this one but it wasn’t looking good this time.

When the bell for first period rang, Ricky headed for class, shuffling his feet, trying to avoid the inevitable.  He got to class, sat down and took advantage of the last few minutes of studying until the teacher called for them to clear their desks.   Instead, when the tardy bell rang, a deep male’s voice interrupted Ricky’s studying.

“Good morning class.  I’m Mr. Slezak and I will be your substitute teacher today.  Mrs. Brown had a family emergency but she should be back tomorrow.  The lesson plan says you are to take a test today but I can’t find the test so I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until tomorrow when Mrs. Brown returns.  I know you’re all heart broken about this but it can’t be helped.”

The class broke out in applause!  Ricky couldn’t believe his luck!  He was getting a second chance to study for his test!  Wow!  Some days were just too perfect!

Looking At Me

Note:This is from a journal write that I came across after a friend posted some of her journal writes.  I don’t remember writing it at all but I found it scratched in my hand as if I had done it under some kind of trance.   I guess this shows that journal writes can produce interesting results.  

I want steamy eyes looking at me.  I can’t tell anyone.  Not even me.  But they are there.  Dark brown eyes watching intensely.  I want steaming eyes looking at me.

I know they’re there.  My moves become deliberate.  Looking innocent, I pose, pausing, pouting, pretending. Straps fall off my shoulders.  He’s out there watching me.

I should scream.  No.  I stretch, my arms reaching upward, my back arching and off it comes.  There’s coolness all over me.  I relish it.  I know the dark brown eyes are watching me.

Slowly, deliberately I reach for the lotion, massaging down from my neck.  My hand lingers on my breast as I look out into the blackness of the night knowing someone is watching me.

Lotion smoothly caresses the ample bulk then the tender darkness of my stiffening nipple, yearning to be touched.  A silent inner moan as someone intently watches me.

My hot breasts yearning to be cooled by the heat of the cinnamon lotion and so my fingers linger there, gentle at first then with rapid vigor, aching for the eyes that are watching me.

Craving for that touch, aching for coolness the lotion cannot bring.  Arching back, hands pleasuring me, forgetting the steamy brown eyes that are watching me.

Instinctively the lotioned hands drop to the soft, wet crevice that begs for human touch.  I’m lost from all but the touch and  the need and I forget that those chocolate eyes are watching me.