Ticket Taken [FICTION]

Since about birth, I’ve been reassuringly predictable. I thrive on knowing what the day brings when I open my eyes each morning. Today, I changed all that. I woke up, disregarded my carefully laid out itinerary for the day, packed a bag, and purchased a ticket to Ireland. I didn’t even call my employer to let them know I wouldn’t be in for a few days. A part of me hoped I wouldn’t be coming back.

That wild, uncommitted segment of my personality reveled in the crisp Irish air, but jet lag drew me to the fluffy bed scented with fresh lavender and into sleep. When I woke the next morning, I found a young maid with freckles and ginger hair who cheerfully directed me to a small breakfast buffet laid out to welcome foreign guests. I selected a scone dotted with fruit and nibbled it as I looked around the foyer, surprised to find no other guests up and about since I had only found a room due to the luck of a last minute cancellation. 

As I approached the front door, music drew me toward it with graceful footsteps. I resisted the urge to let full on dance take over as I pulled open the door and stepped out onto the cobbled streets. The soft lilt of the voices surrounding me calmed me as I stepped out into a small town fair of some kind. 

Every business had doors thrown wide and small tables with handmade items and treats for sale. Townspeople and tourists stopped to grab whatever caught their eye, before the music captured their feet and set them to dancing. I followed the sound until I found the central square, where a small stage held the inspiring music makers. Watching a couple young women gave me more confidence to set my tapping feet free for a moment. 

As the band launched a new song, my Irish blood raced to my feet and they began to carry me along with the crowd. When I stopped worrying about mirroring the movements of the women about me, the joy of the dance made me one with the wave of dancers. As quickly as I caught onto the rhythm of one piece, another began.

I stepped back toward the shade under the eaves of a nearby business only to find my way blocked by a broad chest separated from a shapely pair of legs by a kilt in muted greens and reds.

“Excuse me,” I said assuming I had stumbled into someone else’s trajectory.

As I looked up, dimples greeted me on either side of wide smile framed by a carefully trimmed red beard, “I would excuse you except I was hoping to dance with you."

I shook my head, “I don’t know this dance.”

As soon as I spoke, his smile brightened and he offered his hand again as he reassured in an exaggerated brogue, “Ah. An American lass. I’ll show ye.”

He took my hands and guided me. I melted into him, following his steps with more ease than I would have imagined. 

“You’d never know ye weren’t Irish,” he whispered into my ear.

I blushed and wondered if maybe I had more Irish blood than I thought. Then the thought danced away as the music changed again and my partner pulled me into his arms for a slow dance.

~~~

Sounds like the start of a Hallmark movie, doesn’t it? Summer is fast approaching and many of us are probably about ready to do something wild and different. Hopefully, with someone who adores us even if we have a funny accent….

Grandma’s Gift [FICTION]

No stranger to long nights, I shuffled into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. I sipped slowly as I contemplated the nightmare which revisited me for the third night since my grandmother’s passing. 

She passed quietly in her sleep, but she knew it was coming. She picked out special mementos for each of us and hand-delivered them months ago. We all assumed her actions helped her cope with uncle Niall’s passing from a heart attack shortly before her gift-giving. I assumed the dream was my subconscious expressing grief until it proved otherwise.

The specifics always faded as soon as my eyes opened, but terror lingered. My feet kept carrying me away from some unseen horror. My heart slammed against my chest as if my rib cage kept it prisoner to fear. Each time, I came downstairs and stared at the few family pictures hanging where I could see them from the kitchen and the living room of my tiny apartment.

As my eyes rested on my grandmother’s youthful face from when she was about my age, I smiled at the resemblance. Then my smile faltered as her serious expression grinned back for a moment. As my mouth gaped open, she stepped out of the frame to stand before me like a reflection out of time. Her amorphous  hand reached out to rest beside my cheek as if I could tilt my chin the tiniest bit and feel her comforting touch.

“My dear girl, you must listen…” she paused to assess my obedience, “I had one last thing to do. I thought I had time…”

Her dark eyes pleaded with me as she continued. “You have to find your uncle.”

I cringed from her words, whispering around a lump in my throat, “But he’s dead.”

“Not Niall,” she paused to give me an annoyed grimace, “Your uncle Seamus.”

I stared at her and confusion. “Who?”

“The black sheep of the family. No one talks about him, but he must come back to the family.”

I waited for her to say more. She sighed as she melted away into a misty apparition. “Just find him or I won’t be able to rest.”

The last flash of her eyes made it clear I wouldn’t either. Then she disappeared. The air around me calmed and my eyes grew tired. I almost fell asleep against wall in the hallway before roused enough to shuffle off to bed.

When I awoke in the morning, no remnant of last night’s haunting remained. I shrugged off my hazy memories. Without sleep, my mind clearly decided to start making up excuses for why my eyes popped open at the tiniest breeze when REM sleep should be entertaining me. I staggered drunkenly through my day, glad the days duties only included tasks around the house and the anonymity of my online works.

Exhaustion drew me to bed early, but insomnia pulled me back from the warmth of my covers before midnight. I sighed and headed to the kitchen for some fresh water. I turned from the refrigerator to face my family photos. I closed my eyes as my grandmother’s face wavered again.

My eyes opened as a cool breeze brushed my cheeks. My grandmother stood before me.

“I told you I can’t sleep until Seamus comes back to the family.”

“But no one talks about him? How do I find him?”

She smiled at me, the soft smile she reserved for my mother and Uncle Niall. “Even though I never talked about him, I still talked to him.”

I gasped.

“So just find my tablet and you can video chat with him.”

“How?” I asked.

“Figure it out,” the words hung in the air as she faded into nothingness again.

~~

When I woke the next morning, I resolved to assuage my grandmother. My first step involved calling my mother, who hadn’t been in the best mood since losing her mom, so I fortified myself with a double chocolate hot cocoa before dialing her number. She answered on the fourth ring with a heavy sigh.

“Josie, what do you need?”

I cleared my throat, “I just called to see how you are doing?”

“I just lost my mother, how do you think I feel?”

I bit back the urge to answer sarcastically and gently said, “I know, mom, I was just worried about you. Do you need anything?”

She sighed again. “I suppose you could grab us some dinner and come see me.”

“Thanks, mom. See you soon.”

~~

I showed up with her favorite take-out order and let her bemoan her fate to me for about two hours. I was just about to lead the conversation around to my grandmother’s tablet when my mother surprised me.

“I guess it is good you came over. Your grandmother left a few things for me that she should have given to you.”

I furrowed my brow and held my breath.

“Or maybe she wanted to encourage me to learn new things, but I don’t feel like it. Maybe you can use this,” she reached into her voluminous handbag and pulled out the very item I planned to beg for.

I paused a moment before reaching out a tentative hand, “Are you sure? She wanted you to have it.”

“I won’t use it, baby. You’ll make sure her gift isn’t wasted.”

“Okay, mom.” I found myself at a loss for words as a deep desire to explore the contents of the tablet struck me.

Luckily, my mother has always found spending time with me tedious after the first couple of hours. She dismissed me with a hug and a kiss for each cheek. She even threw in an unsubtle hint about the expected gratitude for the gift she had given by sacrificing my grandmother’s gift to her. I returned her kisses and walked slowly to my car, hoping to leave the illusion that I wasn’t in a big hurry to get away.

~~

“So how do I make you work?” I asked the tablet as I turned it on, surprised to find it still had seventy-five percent battery life.

As it booted up, my image appeared on the screen. Moments later, it informed me that it recognized my face. I moved on to the task before me, finding out how she contacted my uncle. Aside from the standard applications, she had one called familyconnect. I clicked on it and found a list of family members to connect to. At the bottom of the list: Seamus.

“Found you.” I whispered.

I smoothed my hair and studied my face in the preview video for a moment before taking a deep breath, flashing a tentative smile, and connecting the call. I tried three times before someone finally accepted.

“Not only do you look like my mother, but you have her persistence. So you must be my niece.”

“Yes, I’m Jocelyn, but everyone calls me Josie.”

“So you inherited me then?”

“Something like that,” I couldn’t help but smile at the idea of inheriting another human being.

“Well, you didn’t get much,” tears washed out his blue eyes.

“Grandma seems to think otherwise.”

“She’s my mom. She has to think that way.”

“Well, how about you let me get to know you and decide for myself?”

“Do you get an extra chunk of cash if you befriend me?”

I laughed. “If you were talking to grandma, you know that no one in this family has any money.”

He nodded agreement and his shoulders softened. That’s how the conversation started. It ended with him agreeing to meet with the family…

…if I could talk them into it.

By the end of the call, exhaustion consumed me again. Nights without sleep left me asleep moments after laying down and tucking my quilt under my chin.

I woke briefly as a gentle caress on my cheek and my grandmother’s whisper sent me back to sleep, “Thank you.”

~~~

Another late submission to my dear readers. If I keep getting closer and closer to posting them on time, I will eventually be back on schedule. Let us hope it is Friday, but we have a lot going over here in our little hobbit hole this week, so send some positive energy or someone to clean my house.

Fire Starter [FICTION]

"My mother always told me not to play with fire." 

I tried to follow her advice. Well, after I grew older and realized the wisdom in benefitting from her experience, I did. Of course, she chain-smoked for most of her adult life, so you can’t blame me for neglecting this one nugget of wisdom.

I didn’t set out to perform an impromptu circus act. My dear friend Carlotta will assure you that I am just a magnet for unique life events. Then she’ll say something tragically dark, roll her eyes, and skulk off to hide in the shadows.  In fact, had she not done so that evening, I might not be around to tell this tale.

“Telle, stop being so dull,” Carlotta rolled her eyes and flicked some lacquer at me.

“I was born dull,” I frowned at her, regretting my choice to help her refinish cabinets in her store instead of catching up on my pile of books.

She smirked, “That’s not what your mom said.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I have the shoulders of a linebacker. I know.”

Like most moms, mine found cause to remind me of every time I broke her heart, particularly around Mother’s Day. What better fuel to earn more thoughtful gifts than a painful delivery?

“Well, I love that you use those broad shoulders to help me out, so get to work,” she flicked a little more paint my way to motivate me.

“Do that again and your luck will run out,” I mumbled as my focus returned to the shelf before me.

“Where did you find that painter’s smock anyway? It looks like it got lost on the way to the 70s.”

“Be nice to Smockie. She was my mother’s.”

“Your mother was way too cool to name her clothes.”

I stuck out my tongue.

“Which leads me to believe you didn’t let her know you named this treasure.”

“Hmmph!” She wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t going to admit that aloud.

We resumed our work. As the project neared its conclusion, I stopped to stretch my aching muscles. The Fates picked that moment to taunt their favorite mortal—me. The store plunged into darkness.

“Hello, darkness, my old friend,” Carlotta whispered at my side.

Startled, I squealed and dropped my paintbrush. It clacked against the wood floor at my feet. Reflexively, I bent to retrieve it, plunking my hand into the bucket of paint thinner we pulled out for cleanup.

“Seriously?” I hissed.

“What did you do?” Carlotta’s voice carried a surprising nuance of concern.

“Found the paint thinner,” I offered cheerfully.

“Maybe you should look for a light instead.”

“It’s your store.” I fired back.

“Yeah. It isn’t stocked yet. I saw how many pockets that smock has. See what your mom left you.”

I wanted to protest, but I had only remembered the smock and pulled it out when Carlotta roped me into this project. Luckily, remnants of perfume clung to it more than the ashy aroma of cigarettes. I systematically patted the pockets, relieved to find a familiar shape in the third one I tried.

“Matches!” I exclaimed in triumph, opening the pack to tear one off and strike it.

Those keeping track will remember some details I forgot. I already had splashes of lacquer on my clothes. Then I doused my hand in paint thinner and rubbed it all over myself as I checked my pockets. I didn’t produce the soft glow of a single match. I turned myself into a human torch.

As I lit up her store, I saw Carlotta with her mouth half open to tell me not to light that match. The terror on her face fueled my own. My bare feet carried me through the front door. My hands tore at the ties to my smock and the wraparound dress underneath until I could cast the fireball onto the asphalt.

And that's how I ended up in the middle of Main Street—naked.

~~~

Sometimes I have to resurrect Carlotta. She was very popular or at least infamous in the creative writing class I keep alluding to. Of course, my fictionalized version of myself has a charm all her own and a few habits I don’t share. Those who really know me have an idea of what I mean.

And, of course, I had to mention mom with Mother’s Day having just passed. You could say Mother’s Day is in my blood and you wouldn’t be wrong. If you missed your mama this past weekend, I promise you were not alone and she misses you, too.

Evil For Hire [FICTION]

I flipped the paper over again. For a single sheet of paper, it held a lifetime of bad deeds. I skimmed them once more, hopeful that this candidate could fill the empty villain shoes. A superhero with no dastardly plans to foil quickly falls into a state of complacency. 

My heroine sank into such a deep pool of the stuff since the previous villain vacated the project that I found myself anxious to find someone to pull her back into the world of heroic activities and world rescuing. A light rap on the door gave me cause to take in a calming breath.

“Come in,” I stood to greet my guest as the door swung toward me.

“Mr. Auteur?” She asked sweetly as a cascade of blond curls fell down around her shoulder.

I nodded as she stepped forward to shake my hand, fighting to get my tongue untied as her eyes tilted downward to meet mine. Standing at almost six feet, women usually look up to me. I leaned forward slightly to peek at her footwear—only the slightest kitten heel to give her an inch of height. I finally squeaked out, “Raven Renard? Lovely to meet you.”

She pursed her lips into a fetching pink pout. “It is pronounced Air-uh-van. Otherwise I would be a black bird fox.”

As her soft giggle filled my office, I processed her statement. Finding truth in it, I nodded again before turning the interview back around.

“According to your résumé, you helped undermine the integrity of a local law enforcement official. Care to tell me more about that?”

She batted long lashes and crossed longer legs as she demurely answered in her sultry Southern syllables, “You won’t get the milk for free. You have to hire the cow.”

I contemplated this, “You are hiding more than that lovely face under those blonde curls, aren’t you?”

“I believe I mentioned that in my résumé as well.”

I skimmed the page once more before attempting once more to receive answers to reassure myself that Ravan could fill the villainous shoes so recently vacated. “So what motivates you to thwart those who espouse right and justice?”

“Who says their perception of just and right represents my needs in those areas?”

I marveled at how quickly she founds answers that didn’t answer my questions. Surely only a villain could turn words with such a deft tongue while exuding innocence, charm, and naïveté.

As we pored/poured over the remains of her resume, realization sank into the depths of my stony brain, “These were storylines from a role-playing game?”

She nodded shyly, throwing those wild curls back into her blue eyes.

“You’re not exactly the villain we need,” I started, holding up my hand to quell the pout already forming, “But I begin to see that this story may be ready for another heroine.”

She sat up straighter, tossing her hair back from her face, “I knew you’d see it.”

“Now to break the news to the Caped Cat that she is about to become part of a dynamic duo.”

-

What do you think, kids? Is this a story that merits more words, perhaps a novel you would pay to read?

PAD Part 2 [FICTION]

Welcome to the second installment of poetry for National Poetry Month. Sorry it is a day late.

Day 16: The Sun of the World

That light we seek starts in our hearts

If we give to Him the tenderest parts

To fill with truth, light, and love

If we admit what we are in fear of

We can open our leaves and accept the sun

We needn’t look far for He is the one

With arms extended to pull us close

And give us that last healing dose

Of eternity to make us whole

But first we must accept his role

Day 17: Nerve

The nerve of some people, daring to breath

The nerve of those people stopping to grieve 

The nerve of those villains just seeking peace

The nerve of those whose love doesn’t cease

The real nerve here is daring to call

Another wrong for daring at all

To have an original, personal thought

Maybe it wasn’t nerve we sought

DAY 18: Love and Hate

Swirled up in love’s sweet mists

Or facing off with hate’s clenched fists 

Fear the day these two become one

For you could lose the gentle sun

That tends your garden so it may grow 

Love’s caress sets your heart on fire

Hate’s cold heat quells your hood desire

Choose one and keep them apart

Or you will lose control of your heart

And discover pain none should know

Reach out to love and keep it pure 

Don’t let hate catch you with its lure

Because miracles stem from love first

And hate leaves an insatiable thirst

So choose where your heart will go

Day 19: Taste’s Treat

Salt and sweet upon my tongue

At last, this could be the on 

The dessert none could deny

Brings a tear to the eye

While the tongue longs for more

Salt tinged with sugar like before

A taste so true these words fail

Next to flavor, they are pale

Day 20: Snap

Snap, Snap, snap

With claws I cannot clap

But as I scuttle side to side

I seek a shell in which to hide

Snap, snap, snap

Or maybe just a tap

To remind the others to leave me be

As I seek again the deep blue sea

Day 21: Assigned Words

I bend so low and take a bow

But as I lean, I fade out of now

And find myself in the park

Sitting on a seesaw in the dark

So if I fall and my pants tear

Will my wound scar beyond repair

Leaving a memory of the day

That unknown magic spirited me away

To be once more a tiny child

Who had no fear of growing wild

Day 22: What Audacity

What audacity

To judge my capacity

To love or learn

Or set fires to burn

And then snuff them out

Please, don’t pout

What audacity 

To tell me who to be

When you only see

Some shadow of a girl

Who could rule your world

So step away small mind

I am not yours to find

Day 23: Fear

Is it darkness we fear

Or absence of light

Without candle near

Will we succumb to fright

Does what we hold dear

Decide what is right

When we listen and hear

Terrors in the night

Is terror born in what don’t know 

Or in the things that we see

As our heart rates grow

And we fall to one knee

Or will the end show

Fears that are meant to be

Day 24: Touch

Soft, silky against my skin 

Time to cut and stitch again

So I can feel at my waist

A hint of fabric to my taste

Plush and shimmering to the eye

Cut to perfectly lie

Against hip, belly, and thigh

A lovely touch just for me and I

Day 25: Dream

Wrapped up in a stranger’s arms

One whose smile disarms

Because you knew them years before

But this embrace confuses more

Because his type you never were

You once thought but now are sure

And now another lets his face fall

And you don’t have time to explain it all

Day 26: What Do You Mean?

What do you mean professing your love

I am not the girl that you dream of

I know another has stolen your heart

And that love could tear us apart

What do you mean turning me in

I am not the one who consented to sin

Nor did I ruin what you held dear

She is still lingering here

What do you mean pretending to see

When you only ever looked through me

And now I am gone and you don’t know

Because you don’t know where this could go

Day 27: Where There Is A Will

Dusty pages promise riches

And sometimes leave one in stitches

When loved ones cannot agree

On what the deceased wished to be

So if leave words or money

Should we sweeten it with honey

So the bees will stop their stinging

And accept what the will is bringing

Day 28: You Are Love

Even though time has changed your beauty

You must know that you are love

And though in the mirror you now see

Someone you have no memory of

Someone somewhere still dreams of you

For to them you are love

And if they call out of the blue

With the cooing of a turtle dove 

Let them speak, listen close

And know that you are love

Though you see no need to boast

To someone, always, you are love

Day 29: Sight

What do I see with eyes so bright

As they sparkle in darkest night

This cat sees beyond the dark

And finds the littlest mouse’s spark

To chase it down before day returns

But does the mouse see these concerns

Before claws come and fangs, too

Or does your master wake next day

To a sight you hope they don’t throw away

Day 30: Surprise

When the end comes and you open your eyes

Will you succumb to a surprise

That you have been saved at last

Though He said you only had to ask

And show some hope and faith too

To have his grace save you