Picture It & Write It September 09,2012

Today, I am writing for Ermilia, at http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com

She had been held captive for so long by her dead husband, and now she was expressing to the world who she really was. She had lived for seventeen years with a controlling husband. She had done all he had said, followed all of the rules, but it was never enough.

He got satisfaction of seeing the terror in her eyes each time he came after her with a broom handle, or a fire poker. When he said jump, she automatically asked how high. If his meal was not prepared the way he wanted it, he would take the plate and shove the meal in her face, break the plate over her head, and demand that she start over and fix it right.

Inside she screamed tears, hating him, loving him at the same time. She had married young. She had dreams of for ever after, but soon after the vows were said out loud, and the papers signed, she became his property.

She could always remember the night before their wedding, as they lie in each others arms, hearing him profess his love for her, promising to take care of her for the rest of her life. This was the last night she ever remembered  smiles and love flowing from  her heart.

The animal that had been hiding for so many years, had shown itself, the insecurities of this man, called her husband. He was afraid that she would leave him, as his own mother left his father. He was determined that this would not happen in his own marriage, so he started the abuse of holding her hostage, never letting her go.

If she received a phone call, and he was home from work, he would sit so close to her, so he could listen to every word that was said, waiting to see if she was trying to make plans to be with another man. When they went to bed for the evening, instead of holding her in his hands, he was picking out her clothes for the next day, making sure she was not going to be able to draw attention to herself.

Bill paying and getting simple things like groceries, she could always guarantee, that her shadow would be next to her. She could not even take her own bath, as he was always found sitting near by, reading his paper.

Who she thought she was had been ripped apart and now it was hiding in the background of her mind, never knowing if she would ever reappear again.

The one friend she had for so many years, would sneak over to her house by foot, and enter through the back door, so no neighbors would see her. Her husband had met all the neighbors and had warned them that if they ever saw someone drive in to their drive way, or saw her outside, to please call him, because as he explained, his dear wife had suffered an emotional break down and was in a fragile situation. With his smiling face and sparkling teeth, they had no reason to question him, and so helped him to keep an eye on his house for him.

As the best friend observed more black eyes and bruises the two would plot on how to get her out of the house unharmed, but never being able to quite pull it off. The phone would ring, her husband calling to check up on her, scaring the girlfriend enough to go home.

One evening, he did not come straight home from work, and when he did unlock the front door he was drunk. There had been a birthday party for the boss, and after work the bunch of them ended up at the local bar celebrating. Although he was drunk, he was not so much that he ignored her and what she was doing.

She was found to be sitting by the window where she had been watching head lights go by, wondering what he was doing and where he was. He immediately asked her who she was waiting for, and when she replied that he was who she had been waiting for he became enraged.

He raced towards her and grabbed her and threw her on the couch. He grabbed her hair and with his other hand started slapping her over and over in the face, bouncing her head back and forth. She reached out and grabbed his hands and bit him. He was not prepared for this attack from her and he jumped back in pain, inspecting his bite marks.

This gave her time enough to run to her bedroom and slam the door locking it behind her.
She jerked open her night stand drawer, and there lying hidden in the shadows at the back of the drawer, was the revolver that her best friend had given her only a few days a go. Her friend said use it, please use it when he hurts you. Please don’t let him kill you.

She quietly took the revolver out and cocked it and aimed it at the bedroom door, as her friend had taught and instructed her. She could feel her breathing choking her lungs, and sweat was pouring from her brow as the fear rose inside of her.

She wanted to live, and she was going to live. She had enough of this so-called love. The door knob was being rattled as she heard words being yelled at from the other side. Let me in. I know you have someone in there. Let me in you untrustworthy bitch!

She stood still aiming the gun as he thrust his body against the door until it came slamming opened. She didn’t hesitate and shots could be heard, echoing from within the walls of the house. He fell to the ground, and silence bursted from the room. She dropped the gun, and went and called 911.

The cops came and arrested her for the murder of her husband.  A trial was placed and with the help of her girlfriends testimony, she was let go and found to be innocent against the crazy man.

A few years later, she was holding her brush,  teaching her class of students, showing them how to tilt the brush and to gently let it glide down the paper, to make the vines from the rose. With the right pressure being held, students were being taught how to express themselves. The topic for this art class was called love.

 

Picture It And Write It, Sept. 02, 2012

This writing exercise is for Ermilia over at http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com. I love writing for her and Kellie, as it lets my mind expand to areas I have not written about. Today, it is about this photograph. As soon as I saw the photo, I thought of two dear friends that I have on here at WordPress.

When I started writing on here, for the whole world to see, I have to admit, that it made me very nervous. You see, I am lacking in the confidence areas. I try really hard, and I have cursed myself at some of the decisions I have made in my life.

I used to listen to others who talked, instead of listening to God and following also my instincts. It usually got me into trouble. Then there were the childhood memories of never being good enough that actually followed me into my adult life, and let me tell you, when you do not have confidence or much of it, you can make some big mistakes!

When I started writing, and I got a few likes and a couple of comments here and there, it did a big boosting thing to my confidence. I felt like, hey, I can do something that others like! Wow, let’s keep trying.

I have met many nice people on here, I just can’t say how many are so nice to me, and several of you leave me comments whether my posting was good or bad. You are all so kind.

Then along came two people, almost at the same time, reading my blogs, clicking on like, and even commenting. We each had a common denominator, and it was called Parkinson’s Disease. Each of these two ladies have family members who suffer from this just like my brother.

It formed a common bond almost instantly. As we got to know each other, I found out the areas they live in, and I have seen the beautiful peacocks on one of the sights. The more we commented on each others blogs, the more we three learned about each other, and I got to the place where my heart opened up to these two precious souls.

Now when I see a photo of a peacock, I think of Julie and Jo. How they do not know me in  person, but have taken me in to their hearts and families. They have encouraged me, smacked me when I down grade myself. They have boosted my morale, and convinced me I am worthy.

Today, I am more open to speak up, not nasty speaking, but speaking. It is still hard for me to say what I mean, because I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but I have been walked on and stomped on, and this was not right either.

I want to thank you Julie and Jo, for being the colors of my life. I want to thank bloggers here also, Diane, Amy, Diane, Viveka, Patty, Beth, Cathyrn, Marilyn, Francine, Stephen, Edward, George, Debbie, Rob, Nancy, Paula, Tilly. There are so many of you, that I can’t even remember at the moment. Please do not take it personally if your name is not mentioned. It is my middle age kicking in! lol

I am definitely a much better person today than I used to be. I stand a little straighter, and hold my head a little higher, all because of the colors of the world.

Picture it and Write it, August 26th, 2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I am writing an exercise writing prompt for Ermilia today.

The watch was showing that time was ticking by quickly. The announcement had been made, the doors had been closed, and now the mind was left in the small room to ponder on how to move forward, after just receiving the deadly news that cancer had made its home in this body.

No one knew of this news yet. It was still being held as a secret in the only mind in the room. Tears were gently sneaking out from the corners of both eyes, falling on to the lap and forming  small spots of sadness. The mind was racing, and deep breaths were being inhaled in and out, as if it was forcing the mind to slow down. Give the sponge a chance to soak in all that had been said.

There was no comfort, only rules of etiquette had been followed. The nurse standing behind the doctor as the words came out of his mouth in monotone. The words that were remembered last were, I am so sorry. Is there someone I can call to come pick you up? I will give you some time with yourself to get your composure back. You can leave the office when you are ready.

The legs did move, and the body did follow, as the hand on the door knob turned it and let the complete body and shadow out of the door, closing it gently behind him. There was no stopping at the receptionist desk, and no appointments to be made. Artificial smiles were seen staring at the eyes, as the body made its way out the front doors.

It opened the car and sat itself in the front seat. All being done out of habit, as having been trained years ago on how to position oneself for driving a vehicle. Instead of placing the key in the ignition, both hands gripped the steering wheel and clung so tightly, the knuckles could be seen turning slowly white, and the finger tips turning a red rose color.

Tears that had been slowly falling, had now been turned into a water fall, and the eyes became blurry from sights in view, like drops of rain falling on a camera lens, and the head fell gently on to the steering wheel. Sobs could be seen outside the window, and anyone walking near, could see pain written all over this soul as it raged in shaking emotions.

After the body had exhausted all tears, and the well was dry, the nose was blown, and they eyes wiped dry. The key was entered into the ignition and the car was started. It didn’t know which way to go, so it sat motionless waiting for direction.

Eventually, taking a deep sigh, the car’s tires started to roll and it made its way out on to the high way. It somehow made its way to the city cemetery and found itself being parked in front of the parents grave sites. The body opened the door and dragged its feet until it came to the exact spot the lifeless shells were resting. Falling to the knees, the body slammed falling to the ground and grabbing hands full of grass, ripping them out by their roots, he cried and screamed to the markers, what did you do when you found out mom and dad that you had cancer? How did you deal with it? What were the emotions that were running through your mind, that you hid from the family? I miss you mom, I miss you dad. I need your help. Tell me what to do…………

Picture and Write It August 12, 2012

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This is an exercise writing prompt, given by Ermilia. Thank-you for a chance to write for you.

He walked back over the bridge, the cool air hitting the warmth of the waters. He could not see the ripples but his ears tuned into the soft trickles wrapping its body around the edges of dry land.

His heart was broken, as the girl he had just walked away from had broken his heart.

He had moved to a foreign country to do some government work, and had laid eyes upon her beauty one evening at a pub. For him it was love at first sight, but for her, she took her time. Two different countries, two different cultures.

Every night that he had to work over, he would stop at the diner that was only two blocks from his office. She greeted him with a smile, as she led him to her section of tables, and without asking, she brought him a cold beer and sat it down in front of him with her infamous smile.

He looked into her pools of green eyes that shimmered with yellow specks mixed in with emerald. Her teeth were so white, that they reminded him of pure virgin. She was short and petite, and wore a bob for a hair style. Smooth skin that was olive. He wanted to reach out and touch it but kept his desires under control.

She would tell him the nightly specials and with in no time at all, bring his hot plate to him with another beer in her other hand. Flirting was against her upbringing, but when she was behind the counter, cleaning up others dining spots, they would both steal looks at each other and smile.

He learned to make excuses to stay late more and more, and she seemed to be always eagerly awaiting his arrival. One night after his meal was finished, he motioned to her to sit down for a moment. She looked around to see if her boss was near, and sat down for a moment, asking what did he need.

He asked her to meet him this coming Friday. There was a diner about two blocks from  his office going the other way, and he wanted her to sit and be waited on instead of the other way around. She looked him in the eye, seeming to consider his offer, and then softly shook her head in approval. He told her the time and they parted, knowing they would see each other again in a few days.

It was their first real date, and it went very nice, no hurrying or pushing, just taking time to ask many questions and getting to know each other. Their food was good, and she had to admit that it felt nice to sit for a change and not have to scamper off to wait on another. They talked into the evening, and before they both realized, it was time for her to go home.

Her parents were very strict, with strong rules. There was much work to be done at home and siblings to help take care of. He paid the bill and left the waitress a tip and helped her up out of her chair and they walked out of the door.  He asked her if he could walk her home, and she agreed to part way, and then they would have to go their separate ways.

He grabbed her hand, wanting to hold it in his, but she jerked it back shaking her head no, that someone could see them. He didn’t argue, but told her at their corner, that he had a wonderful time and he would like to see her again. She smiled and looked up at him, causing him to melt and they agreed to meet once again the next Friday at this same restaurant.

This went on for several weeks, but one night on the way to their departing corner, he pulled her into the shadows of the buildings and he kissed her. At first, she didn’t respond out of fear, but soon her body gave in and she returned his kiss.

From that moment on it was a magical ride for the two of them. Every moment was spent in the shadows getting to know each other intimately. They proclaimed their love for each other and promised they would never part.

After months had gone by and they had proven to each other their love, he asked her to marry him and she said yes. They sealed it with many kisses and spent well into the evening making passionate love to one another, vowing their bodies to each other.

They set a date for him to meet her parents and so that he could ask for her hand in marriage. The time arrived and he knocked firmly on the door of her and her parents house, and she met him with sadness in her eyes. He took one glance at her face and asked her what was wrong. She said that she had told her parents about the two of them and how much in love they were, and that she had found the man she wanted to marry. She told them that she would go back to his home state and they would have children and make her parents proud, but they were not proud.

He gave her a quick peck on the nose and told her not to worry, that he would talk to her parents and would explain how he felt about their daughter, and how much he loved her and would take good care of her.

She led him into the living room where the parents sat in opposite chairs, awaiting for his arrival. They nodded for him to sit, and then listened with blank faces as he pronounce his love for their daughter.

They told him it was not their custom to allow their children to marry out of their religion and cultures, that he seemed like a very nice young man, but they were sorry the answer had to be no. They could not be disgraced like this in their own country. They asked him to now leave and to not look their daughter up anymore and to go home.

There was no arguing, because children did not argue with parents where she came from. With tears in her eyes, and he with a broken heart, she walked him to the door, and let him outside to leave. Before leaving, he took her in  his arms and gave her a kiss that was like no kiss she had ever received. He vowed to her right there, that somehow they would get around this, and she looked at him with her green pools filled with tears, and confessed that this would never happen.

He took one last glance and touched her olive skin and turned around, not daring to look back and made his way across the bridge.

 

 

 

 

 

Picture It And Write It July 22, 2012

She, Sophie, was the apple of her parent’s eyes. She had been yearned for many years, by her parents, always being told they would never have any children. The parents never gave up. They had their child in each dream the two shared, and they moved ahead in life, preparing a place for him or her in their hearts and home.

The two individuals, joined together and becoming one, could be seen nightly, kneeling at the end of their bed, praying to God, asking him to fulfill the vision of holding an infant, they called their own, in the arms that held this marriage together.

This vow that was created and stamped in love, held two lovely people inside of it. They were both school teachers, each teaching  disabled students. They had met in the most uncommon of circumstances. She, Lacey, was from the United States, teaching in a small town in Ohio, while her husband, Clayton, held his roots  in New England. Both were new teachers and Clayton had volunteered his services, of helping to open a new classroom in Lacey’s town. He was going to be rewarded by new experiences, and a chance to be more than just a teacher.

Lacey lived in an apartment, near her school. This was her first teaching job, and money was tight for her, so finding this suitable home was perfect for her. No driving to work, businesses within walking distance, and the rents were modest.

Clayton, also being a fairly new teacher, his third year, also wanted something economical, and ended up being in the vacant room across the hall from her.

They both walked out at the exact same time one morning, on their way to the same school, to report for duty. Each said hello and went on their way, but soon noticed their paths would cross, not only at work, but in their personal space also.

The combinations of same likes, same hours, led to many hours spent together, discussing children, ideas on how to help reach each child’s abilities, and many dinner time meals spent together.

Without willing it or recognizing the signs, these two fell in love with each other. It was easy to see that the support they had for each other was strong, and when you looked into their eyes, there were pools dripping with love.

After school was ended for the year, Clayton was to go back to  New England, but he knew he could not go without his love, so he proposed, and she accepted. After being married he took her to his home and they started a new life together.

Lacey had received a wonderful recommendation from her prior school as a teacher, and in no time at all, she was working once again. Clayton returned to his school that he had already had obtained work at.

They had spoken many times about the number of children they wished to have, so when it came time to buy their first home, they purchased a three bedroom home, which in due time would hold much laughter and love.

Months went by and life was good to them except one dark shadow lingering in the background. There was no child, as of yet. The two went in prayer, and gave their hopes and dreams to God, and ask him to please give them the child they wanted so bad, but for five years, there was nothing.

There was nothing they could do but hope. They taught each year, and in the summers, they went on small vacations, and enjoyed each others company. They shopped and even slid into little baby shops, and using their imaginations, they picked out clothes for their own child.

It was late fall, one teaching day, and the rain was making soft taps on the window panes. Lacey, sat up to the alarm going off, and when she rose, she felt very nauseated. She laid back down, and reached over and tapped Clayton on the arm, asking him to please call into the school and say she was not feeling well today, and would they please find a substitute. Clayton looked at her, giving her the all over look, and felt her face with the back of his hand. He felt no temperature, but respected her wishes, and made the  phone call.

After Clayton left for school, she laid there for a while longer, and then tried to get up once again. She did manage to get up, but ended up barely making it to the restroom. It didn’t take long to put two and two together, and along with a doctor’s appointment, she was able to tell her husband, that she was expecting. She told him after preparations had been made for their dinner, and asking him if he would care to have dessert in the living room by the fireplace, she broke the news to him. The joy they both felt poured out all through  the room, and their dessert ended up being in each others arms.

Family, friends, and co-workers were so happy for them. The nine months passed quickly with teaching and baby showers, shopping for the baby’s room, and before they all realized it the time had come upon them, and Sophie was born.

A beautiful baby with golden locks and big blue eyes with thick lashes. Delicate white skin, ten fingers and ten toes, so perfect.

God had answered their prayers. The two had never given up their dreams and hope and faith carried them through each of their days, and now they were parents. They both felt so blessed, that as soon as all could be arranged, they had baby Sophie christened at church.

Now five, glorious years has passed. Each passing day watching their child grow has planted beautiful memories into Lacey and Clayton’s minds, and today, also was going to start a new chapter in their lives with their daughter, as she is starting her first day of dancing lessons. Our little princess.

 

Thank you Ermilia for another chance to write for your writing exercise.

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Picture It And Write It, Prompt Number 34

This was me one day after I graduated high school. A cigarette and smoke being seen only by the elite club of smoker friends. The kids who wanted a better life, more popularity with the mature boys I knew.

My girlfriend had suggested to me that now that we were women, and could make our own decisions, we should take up this dignified habit, to show the world we were top class. There was no one to stop me from lighting up my first cigarette, sitting in my car, with her and our windows down, parked in the bowling alley parking lot, and knowing our parents would never see us here, as this was a place where they never adventured to enter.

I can look back and see us both holding our cancer sticks like pros, twirling it between our fingers, trying to hold the pose of the ladies on the television commercials. We coughed, and our faces probably turned colors between an unripe tomato and an over ripe one.

It didn’t matter if we choked our way through our first one or not, we were women, adults of the world, and able to make choices.

My first time I ever smoked, was the day after graduation from  high school. I only had one or two the entire day. Although I was of legal age to smoke, in my mother’s eyes, there was no legal age. When I came home for supper that evening, the first thing my mom did, was dump my purse out on the counter, and out fell the red hard pack of Marlboro cigarettes. She immediately questioned me as to who these belonged to and I instantly told her that they were not mine, that I was holding them for a friend, because her mom would have a fit if she found out her daughter smoked.

Mom didn’t believe me at all, and why should she? The smell of cigarette smoke is rank. It comes out of your mouth as a wispy cloud, and aggressively attaches itself to anything within a few inches. Mom said I smelled like smoke, and once again, I tried fooling her stating I had been with my friend and she had been smoking. Mom says to me in no uncertain terms, smoking will kill you, give it up!

At that time there were no commercials nor media prompting that smoking was habit-forming. Any posters or ads you saw were sophistication, and this is what my mind had fooled me into believing.

Today, all these years later, I still see my mom and me standing in the kitchen, at the table, and her unloading my purse.  Every once in a while, I think of mom and wish with all my heart that I would have listened to her. It has been several years since mom has died, and I still carry the guilt of knowing I am doing something she didn’t approve of.

What people don’t realize, is it really is a drug. It is hard to break this terrible habit. I pray about it almost nightly, and I tell myself how bad I stink from its oder, but I still smoke.

I go to sleep each night telling myself, that was my last smoke I was inhaling, and wake up each morning to light up once again. I have different excuses for myself that I use, such as I have to die from something, or I can’t give them up taking care of my brother, or I will quit when they cost a dollar.

My father smoked up until he had his heart attack, and because of the recovery time, and the fear of a too close of death experience, he never went back to smoking when he was released. He exchanged his smoking habit to a habit of chewing gum.

Is this what will happen to me also? Will I  have a heart attack to quit? I don’t know, but when I face the down and dirty bare facts, and when I am all alone, I have to admit the truth, and that is, I am not ready to quit. I will have to be forced by some unknown power, that can beat me up and knock the nicotine out of my body.

I want to quit for so many reasons, but I don’t want to quit bad enough, or I would have done it now. I tell myself I would quit faster if there was someone who I had to liable to, but there is no one, and this is one time, that you telling me what about God, will not work, or at least so far it has not. I am strong, but the addiction is stronger, and God is even stronger than the addiction. I don’t know if I will quit on my own, or if God will have to once again show me by hard lessons. Time will tell.

Thanks and credits go to Ermilia for letting me write for her writing exercise.

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Picture It And Write It, June 17,2012, Writing Exercise

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Waiting, wishing, wanting. This was what was on his mind. Tongue hanging out, with drool spilling from the tip. He was hungry. Softly walking the perimeters, looking front and behind, to see if anyone or anything was following him. He was tired and he didn’t feel like fighting for his meal.

The season had been a hard one for him. Food was low. No one was leaving any food out, making meal time a bit easier to latch on to. There was nothing in the trash bins, but paper and cans and some plastics.

He sat himself under an oak tree, and with ears perked up, listening for intruders, he cleaned himself. There was more dirt where he traveled than grass. Without much rain, even his own prints could be seen in the dust.

He used to consider himself an outstanding creature, but as he bathed, he could feel his bones. His fat that he usually carried was disappearing.

Stopping, listening, he heard a sound. Sitting up straight he sat very still. His green eyes were scanning the darkness, trying to hone in on what was out here. His nose wiggled as he began sniffing for familiar smells. There it was again, not far in the distance. He got on all fours and began to make his way, edging closer to the sound. His mouth began to water, as he could envision, his next meal. His belly almost touching the ground, his green radars had caught the target.

Crawling closer and closer, he was inches from his prey. He licked his lips, and crouched in his attack position. He waited for one second, then pounced, placing both front legs over his prey. Nothing, he had missed.

His eyes quickly found his trophy and moved the few feet, and crouching once again, make his move. His body covered it. He could feel it trying to escape under his belly. There was a fight between the two. He was not giving up. He quickly moved to the side, while using his foot to hold his victim. With one foot holding his meal, he reached down with his white fangs and bit into fur.

He started shaking his head back and forth wearing down his prey. He let it drop and bit into it once again, and he could feel the body becoming limp. He dropped it from his mouth and batted it silly with his front legs, until it moved no more. Dead, lifeless, victory, a meal.

He picked it up once again and took it to the back porch and tossed it down. He looked briefly around, and no one was present, and then sat down to feast on his mouse.

Thank you Ermilia for allowing me this chance to write for Picture It And Write It.

picture-it-write- prompt #31

This writing exercise is brought to me by

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She wanted to read her reflections in the exact same spot on the day she was baptized here in the waters.

Her life changing, having given it to God. She had been an  unneeded child, and in her late teens had left from home. She made her way in life by working in restaurants as a waitress and than a cook .

Her parents were too young when they had Julie. Her mother worked in a small factory, in a town ten miles from home, and her father worked in the mines on the outskirts of town. They didn’t have the desire for a child. They could barely keep food on their table, and having another mouth to feed just made their own lives harder.

Her mother would come home from her job and expect some type of supper food on the table. Julie’s parents didn’t have too much money, so choices for meal preparations were to be desired, but Julie used her imagination and managed to have something ready for her mother when she arrived home.

Julie’s father worked long and hard hours, so she didn’t see him often. He took his lunch box with him and usually stopped at the local tavern on his way home for a bite to eat.

Julie had plenty of time to dream about her life while she was at home. Her parents had sent her to public schools for her elementary days but as the prices got higher for the upper school years, they made her drop out and told her she could learn more living life than hearing about it at school.

Julie kept the house up, doing laundry, dishes, sweeping. She cleaned windows, and swept the small porch on the front of their house.

When you looked out from the porch, you could see the mines in the distance where her father worked. Sometimes when you were sitting out there you could hear large booms and vibrations from where new areas were being opened in the mines.

Julie loved her imagination. She could dream about new recipes, and from her own garden could create new flavors from her herbs she was growing.

When she reached seventeen years old, she packed all of her personal belongings, and wrote a letter to her parents telling them it was time for her to find a better life, and that she loved them. She left it on the kitchen table for mother to read when she got home. Julie also left a dinner plate in the oven for her mother’s supper.

She left and didn’t go back for years. She hitched a ride with a passer-by and landed herself in two cities over. This was a large city and she knew that she would have plenty of growth opportunities.

Immediately she landed a job at a restaurant as a waitress, and had also saved enough money for a room to rent. She loved her job and it wasn’t long at all that she had plenty of followers that came to see her and have her wait on them.

Her life was doing well and she thought of her parents often, and hoped they were doing well. She had plenty of people she knew but she missed having someone in her life, but that all changed the day he walked in the front door of her work place. He was handsome, not dressed to fancy. He talked with a mild manner, but his eyes are what drew her to him. They were the bluest of blue she had ever seen. He looked at her and placed himself in her section. Each day this pattern was continued.

One day he asked her out for supper, and she accepted. Their love blossomed and soon they knew their eyes were for each other only.

Julie stayed at the restaurant and worked her way up to cook, then main cook. The restaurant grew each month from her using her experiences with foods, adding herbs and new flavors.

After a year went by, Julie and her boyfriend decided they wanted to spend the rest of their days together. They wanted to share their love with all of their friends and have God witness their union.

They went to the lake on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, and with all of their guests surrounding them, they were pronounced man and wife. After the kiss was performed, the minister took them one by one and they stepped out into the water and they were baptized. Now they were starting a new life together with each other and God.

Today marks one year from the date they were married to each other and God. Julie returned to the waters, to the same spot where she was united, and with her bible she gave thanks to God for all of their blessings he had given them both.

Picture It & Write It, Prompt #29

The camera lights flickering from the background, capturing the gracefulness of the dancer. Beauty beyond the eye being held by the lens. Being put in a trance, mesmerized by her movements.Cheers could be heard from the crowds who flocked heavily to see her last performance. Standing ovations with much clapping and whistles  could be seen and heard from outside of the arena.

A dancer, from a small country, worked very hard as a child, with persuasions from her family, had paid off. She had started in her own small school in plays and worked her way to America, performing in the most well-recognized halls. She had never married, but was married to her talent. People followed her from around the world. Now, today, twenty-five years later, she was giving the audience what they  had always hungered. Her greatest performance, her finale.  Roses were given, along with hugs, tears and kisses. Fare-wells could be heard echoed from corner to corner.

A small two-week break, and she would be teaching young children with talent on how to better express themselves through their dance.

Thank you to Picture It & Write It, for allowing me another chance to express myself through your picture.

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Picture It And Write It, Prompt #23

Celia was in David’s arms once again. Lovers they had become. Celia embracing him with  all of her emotions and  needs, pouring them into David, feeling his heart beating against her bare breasts, his arms wrapped around her making her feel beautiful.

Celia was a spoiled woman, who had been given all of her heart’s desires by her father. Her father loved her and could never discipline her. He never wanted to see her with a sad face. Celia was a married woman, who had a hard-working husband, named Bill. Bill was secure,  providing money for all of her needs, or so he thought.

Celia had met David at a local pub. She had gone there because of another argument between her and Bill. She had seen a beautiful dress in a store window the day before, and bringing this up to Bill  at supper tonight, he had said no. Celia wanted this dress. She could imagine herself walking the streets of downtown, with all the people staring at her beauty. Bill’s argument was that she had enough dresses already hanging in her closet. That the house and auto insurance premiums were coming due, and these needed to be paid first. They would try to buy the dress out of the next pay check. Celia was not happy with this plan. She wanted the dress now. She had walked out of their home, and went straight to the pub, to drown her sorrows in music and alcohol. While there, she drew the attention of David. David was a lady’s man. He thought all women adored him, and he used all women for his own enjoyments, usually dropping each one as his needs were fulfilled.

He walked up to her and asked her if he could buy her a drink. Celia looked up at him and saw the most beautiful dark eyes she had ever seen, and motioned for David to sit down next to her. They drank and they chatted. He told her about his nice car he had just purchased two weeks ago. She asked him what kind of work he did, and he told her he was in sales. David told her that he lived in a high-rise only a walking distance away. After some time of senseless chat had occurred, he ask her if she would like to come with him. Celia saw her new dress hanging in her closet. All she had to do was entertain David and fulfill his fantasies, and the dress would be hers.

They both walked to his apartment, and when the door was unlocked, David let her go in first. As soon as the door was shut behind them and locked, he began to tear her clothes off and she was tugging at his also. Their lips met hard, their hands grasping for each other, as they made their way to his bedroom. David threw her on his bed, and took her there. After their love session was over, she told him that she wished her husband could make love to her like this. She explained that their love-making had become boring and too routine. David didn’t even blink when she mentioned her husband. He didn’t care if she was married or not. All that mattered to David, was that for tonight, she was his. Having gotten his needs taken care of, he stood up and started to get dressed. Celia asked him why he was in such a hurry to end this night, and David mentioned that he had forgotten an important phone call he needed to make. Celia said nothing, and with a pouty face, got up and dressed. He walked her back to the pub, and gave her a piece of paper with his phone number on it, and said, call me, the next time you are going to be at the pub. Celia took the paper and placed it in her purse, and walked home, being no closer to the dress she wanted than she was before.

Bill was sitting at his office desk in their den, going over their budget. He told Celia, that he would be able to buy her the dress in two weeks. She made a grunting sound and walked past him, to their bedroom, and running herself a nice, hot, bubble bath. She got in and went over the past few hours of her evening. Sure, David was good enough in bed, but he could offer her much more, than just

thrills. Meanwhile, a block away, David was thinking of her also, and knew that he had a wild cat here, and he wanted more.

A few days later, Bill had to leave for an overnight business trip. Celia found her piece of paper with David’s phone number on it, and she called him. She told him she would be at the pub that evening, around ten. She asked him if he would care to join him for a drink. She wanted the dress, and he wanted his desires met, so once again, Celia was in David’s arms, and lovers they became.

This story was written for Picture And Write it by Terry Shepherd and credits going to

http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/