The night sky is clear and lit with beautiful stars, tonight. I always look for the Big Dipper when I look up. I trace the stars from point to point, drawing out each constellation that I’ve learned in past years. The Big Dipper and the Little Dipper, scooping and pouring stardust into each other. The Pleiades, which were introduced to me as the Seven Sisters, and let’s not forget Orion, whose belt is all I can identify.
Tonight, as I sat on the porch looking up, I noticed a different sparkle with my naked eye. I examined two stars, Phad and Merak, that form the bottom of Big Dipper’s bowl. Something new shined out to me. The twinkle of the stars in the night sky, sparkled colors of red, blue, and yellow, too. If you look just right and watch closely, maybe you can see them too. Of course, the scholarly say it’s light refraction or some such explanation. To me, though, their twinkle is more than refraction and dust, but dancing stars in the night sky. Each dance to their on song. First one, then another, and finally I see, they’re all dancing for me, in the night sky, pristine.
Do stars wear diamonds that shine as they dance? Do stars join Balls decked out in sparkles? Of course, I know what school books teach. But to me, they’re dressed in diamonds and dance for us all to see. They dance beautifully and shimmer brightly in the night sky, each saying, "Dance with me."
Thursday, August 30, 2018
Friday, April 4, 2014
Napkin Scrawl #31 - Forever and Always
Thoughts of you reach into the depths of my soul as if some unknown force connects us deep inside. For moments at a time, I push myself to keep my mind steadfast on my daily routine. But corralling my thoughts is like riding a wild horse. It bucks and fights the confines of its bit and bridle.
When I let go of the reins of my mind, my thoughts roam freely, and they gravitate toward you. My thoughts look to our God and I hope and pray that you are happy. I take a deep breath, hopeful that he hears my prayers.
I imagine our hearts beating as one in the stillness of that moment. I know, deep inside, that you are thinking of me as I am of you. We know each other's thoughts as if we are of one heart and one mind.
My ears long to hear your voice once again. My voice longs to say your name.
I dream of the day when we will meet again, that moment when our eyes glimpse each other, and our mind grasps that it is you. Our heart will explode with joy; our tears will flow like a river. We will hold each other in our arms in a firm embrace, with no intention of ever letting go. When that time comes, we will both say…"I'm Home."
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Napkin Scrawl #30 -- Missing You
The clock reads midnight. The only sound in this peaceful night is the constant beating of the fan overhead as it keeps the room fresh from the sweltering heat. I lay awake staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to overtake me. But, it cannot. My mind is full and races with thoughts of my day, feelings of family, and of you.
Your hand reaches across to me as if you know my thoughts. My skin prickles as your hand gently caresses me. The spinning in my mind comes to a halt as I turn to look at you. Your eyes closed, as if you have succumbed to sleep, yet your body finds mine as you get close to me. Your arm wraps around me. Your leg fits snugly between mine. Your head finds a soft, comfortable spot above my breast to rest. The scent of your hair taunts my nose with its beautiful aroma. My hand finds your hair and begins stroking as if conjured to do so. The softness of your hair is like a talisman to me, calming me with each stroke. Upon taking one last, cleansing deep breath, my eyes grow heavy as my hand finds its rhythm.
Moments later, my bed begins to shake and bounce. I open my eyes to find my arms wrapped around my pillow, and my body curled up, snuggling it tightly. I let out a sigh as I realize you are only a dream. Two thoughts cross my mind. First is, how much I miss you, and the other, how fast can I fall back to sleep so I can see you, hold you, and feel you again.
Missing you…
Your hand reaches across to me as if you know my thoughts. My skin prickles as your hand gently caresses me. The spinning in my mind comes to a halt as I turn to look at you. Your eyes closed, as if you have succumbed to sleep, yet your body finds mine as you get close to me. Your arm wraps around me. Your leg fits snugly between mine. Your head finds a soft, comfortable spot above my breast to rest. The scent of your hair taunts my nose with its beautiful aroma. My hand finds your hair and begins stroking as if conjured to do so. The softness of your hair is like a talisman to me, calming me with each stroke. Upon taking one last, cleansing deep breath, my eyes grow heavy as my hand finds its rhythm.
Moments later, my bed begins to shake and bounce. I open my eyes to find my arms wrapped around my pillow, and my body curled up, snuggling it tightly. I let out a sigh as I realize you are only a dream. Two thoughts cross my mind. First is, how much I miss you, and the other, how fast can I fall back to sleep so I can see you, hold you, and feel you again.
Missing you…
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Fanning the Flames
Have you ever just sat staring at your computer screen, wondering, what shall I write? You tap your fingers on the keyboard as if warming them up to run a marathon, yet nothing happens. Your hands begin to wonder if they are plugged into your brain. You flex your fingers, crack your knuckles and enter a transitory state, with eyes glazed as your brain begins to filter through all the various subjects that pique your curiosity. A vampire, werewolves, fairies, witches, magic, dragons, hmmm… all just words and no story to support them.
As you stare into the backlit screen of your laptop, hoping that something, anything would pop into your mind to become a story, you realize you’ve real life has preoccupied your thoughts. You’ve not taken the time to travel to the depths of your mind. You’ve not fantasized, dreamed, or even wished upon a star. Reality kicks butt! Deep within, the furnace needs stoking. Peeking inside is one smoldering coal. It slowly exhausts the fuel it once burned. Around the edges of that coal are the fire retardant remnants of reality pressing in to snuff out the vibrant glow and fierce heat that it once inspired.
Sadness, even pity takes hold as you realize you’ve neglected the one unique feature of yourself, your imagination. You open the furnace grate and begin to fan the heat and glow of that one ember of coal. You watch as the light brightens and sparks start to fly. But, all this fanning will quench the ember in due time unless fuel is added for the ember’s appetite. “I must feed that sole ember.” So, you pull a thought from your mind as if it is a beautiful strand of twisted fiber that you hope weaves itself into a bigger story. Perhaps then, something might unravel and feed that lone piece of glowing coal in the belly of your fertile imagination.
At first, words become kindling. Like thin pieces of wood, you throw words atop the glowing coal, feeding that once anemic appetite. Soon, a spark lights a fire the words you’ve begun to weave. Gently you breathe life into the small flame. You add more and soon your words become sentences, which then start a thought, and finally, you have written a creative exercise that flexes the anemic burn from deep within.
Your creativity begins to flex and glow, burning hotter, glowing brighter, and growing larger. You realize how lucky you were to find that one ember of coal to build upon. Never again will you neglect your own creativity, the one thing that makes you feel alive. Maintaining the fire within requires input and output. The fire must breathe and be fed. It must consume before it can give anything.
Not everything you feed your imagination has to be worthy of readers. However, like any other muscle in your physical body, your imagination needs a workout too. Stay practiced. Stay sharp. As you do, you will find that the seeds sown in your fertile imagination will create a magnificent masterpiece.
As you stare into the backlit screen of your laptop, hoping that something, anything would pop into your mind to become a story, you realize you’ve real life has preoccupied your thoughts. You’ve not taken the time to travel to the depths of your mind. You’ve not fantasized, dreamed, or even wished upon a star. Reality kicks butt! Deep within, the furnace needs stoking. Peeking inside is one smoldering coal. It slowly exhausts the fuel it once burned. Around the edges of that coal are the fire retardant remnants of reality pressing in to snuff out the vibrant glow and fierce heat that it once inspired.
Sadness, even pity takes hold as you realize you’ve neglected the one unique feature of yourself, your imagination. You open the furnace grate and begin to fan the heat and glow of that one ember of coal. You watch as the light brightens and sparks start to fly. But, all this fanning will quench the ember in due time unless fuel is added for the ember’s appetite. “I must feed that sole ember.” So, you pull a thought from your mind as if it is a beautiful strand of twisted fiber that you hope weaves itself into a bigger story. Perhaps then, something might unravel and feed that lone piece of glowing coal in the belly of your fertile imagination.
At first, words become kindling. Like thin pieces of wood, you throw words atop the glowing coal, feeding that once anemic appetite. Soon, a spark lights a fire the words you’ve begun to weave. Gently you breathe life into the small flame. You add more and soon your words become sentences, which then start a thought, and finally, you have written a creative exercise that flexes the anemic burn from deep within.
Your creativity begins to flex and glow, burning hotter, glowing brighter, and growing larger. You realize how lucky you were to find that one ember of coal to build upon. Never again will you neglect your own creativity, the one thing that makes you feel alive. Maintaining the fire within requires input and output. The fire must breathe and be fed. It must consume before it can give anything.
Not everything you feed your imagination has to be worthy of readers. However, like any other muscle in your physical body, your imagination needs a workout too. Stay practiced. Stay sharp. As you do, you will find that the seeds sown in your fertile imagination will create a magnificent masterpiece.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Angels in Our Lives - A Memorial of a Wonderful Woman
Do you believe in Angels? I do. I think Angels cross our paths every day to help us, and sometimes they guide us. Sometimes they are with us for a day, a week, or longer.
As a young child, my parents moved into a middle-income neighborhood that brushed on a low-income area. From a child’s perspective, it was a rough neighborhood. Growing up with troubled kids, troubled families, was difficult. That is not to say that we were in the toughest part of the city, no there were worse.
On the street that we moved to, there was one woman who became that Angel in our lives. She lived in the middle of the block, had five kids of her own, but every kid around our neighborhood knew her.
One day shortly after we moved to Ventura, California, one of her daughters came over to befriend me. She invited us to church…a church that was not like what I was accustomed. My brother and I went with her family, and it changed our lives.
Margaret Gage, known to me as Mrs. Gage, took all five of her kids plus my brother and me to a church where we decided to follow Jesus. In the years that followed, Mrs. Gage babysat us, and then later just kept a close eye on us.
Through the years, she and my mother became very close, as Mrs. Gage guided my mother to Christ as well.
Every time I visited her, she ALWAYS had open arms, hugging me until there was no room to suck in my breath. I remember once I stopped by to visit and she had asked me to call her by her first name. I told her that she would always be Mrs. Gage to me. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to use her first name, it was that to me, I respected her, cherished her, and by calling her Mrs. Gage, it reminded me of how much I did love and respect her.
Today, my mother called utterly broken and crying. Through her sobs, she informed me that Mrs. Gage had passed away on March 17, 2011. I believe she was 79 years old.
Mrs. Gage was an Angel in my life. She admonished, protected, and guided me. So, you will understand when I say; I don’t believe she passed away, I believe she was called home by our Lord. Her time here on earth was finished.
Margaret Gage touched many lives while she visited this earth. Thank you, Mrs. Gage, for touching mine.
As a young child, my parents moved into a middle-income neighborhood that brushed on a low-income area. From a child’s perspective, it was a rough neighborhood. Growing up with troubled kids, troubled families, was difficult. That is not to say that we were in the toughest part of the city, no there were worse.
On the street that we moved to, there was one woman who became that Angel in our lives. She lived in the middle of the block, had five kids of her own, but every kid around our neighborhood knew her.
One day shortly after we moved to Ventura, California, one of her daughters came over to befriend me. She invited us to church…a church that was not like what I was accustomed. My brother and I went with her family, and it changed our lives.
Margaret Gage, known to me as Mrs. Gage, took all five of her kids plus my brother and me to a church where we decided to follow Jesus. In the years that followed, Mrs. Gage babysat us, and then later just kept a close eye on us.
Through the years, she and my mother became very close, as Mrs. Gage guided my mother to Christ as well.
Every time I visited her, she ALWAYS had open arms, hugging me until there was no room to suck in my breath. I remember once I stopped by to visit and she had asked me to call her by her first name. I told her that she would always be Mrs. Gage to me. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to use her first name, it was that to me, I respected her, cherished her, and by calling her Mrs. Gage, it reminded me of how much I did love and respect her.
Today, my mother called utterly broken and crying. Through her sobs, she informed me that Mrs. Gage had passed away on March 17, 2011. I believe she was 79 years old.
Mrs. Gage was an Angel in my life. She admonished, protected, and guided me. So, you will understand when I say; I don’t believe she passed away, I believe she was called home by our Lord. Her time here on earth was finished.
Margaret Gage touched many lives while she visited this earth. Thank you, Mrs. Gage, for touching mine.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Napkin Scrawl #29 - Terrors of a Captive
Immense terror resides in my mind as I stand in a dark, dank, dirty kitchen. Cupboard doors are filthy, and some doors have dried on melted vanilla colored ice cream slung across them. The sink is stuffed full of dirty dishes with murky cold water. The counter tops are Formica, reminiscent of the 50’s and 60’s and they are filthy, covered with grease and dirt. It is amazing that there are no cockroaches in sight, but that could be because I occupy the same space. One incandescent light bulb illuminates the area just enough to see the grunge dimly.
Master has set a chair out for me to climb. His task for me is to scrub down the cupboard doors that don the dried-on sticky mess of vanilla colored ice cream. My stomach turns at the look and smell of this room. Master hands me a dirty, grungy cloth, dampened with cold water. “Get to it!” Master growls to me. “Get that shit off the doors!” I nod, affirming his command. Speaking is not allowed without permission.
Climbing the chair to the countertop, I reach the doors that I must clean. Laying cloth to a door, I begin to scrub circles to the area. Apparently, Master got angry one night when he was served melted ice cream. Outraged, he threw his bowl across the kitchen. I can only assume Master beat the one who served him.
In the background, I hear the whimpering and crying of another. Perhaps that one caused this mess. Knowing what I know of Master, I had better clean this mess perfectly, or I will be tortured for failing. I have been here too long and have learned from experience what to expect if I fail. When one fails Master, he tortures in different ways. Master tied up this offender by all fours and gagged them for silence. Master likes his riding crop most of all. I shudder at the thought.
My thoughts continue as I scrub this door. I cannot remember the day Master brought me to this place. I am one of the older women. It is now my job to train the new ones who arrive at this place. All are terrified of Master. If only they would give in to him, their lives would be simpler, easier. Not everyone likes captivity. I know I do not. However, I have watched as others attempt escape. Only those who have died achieve escape. Poor bastards.
My thoughts flash to my children. I have two. They must miss me. Do they remember who I am? Have I been gone too long? Without thinking, I speak out of turn, “Master, may I speak?” My hand reaches for my mouth as if to reel the words back in and my heart jolts in my chest as I meet his eyes with my question. Fear grips as my mind spins in terror. Panic sets in as I realize I have spoken out of turn. Master prefers a more respectful and reverent means of requesting anything. I quickly descend from my lofty place on the counter to lower myself below him. Maybe that will keep Master from his anger. I hope.
Kneeling before him, I beg forgiveness for my insolence and steel myself for the back of his hand. Nothing comes. No sound, no pain, nothing. I open my eyes to see Master staring back at me. Contemplation is in his face as he decides what he will do about my outburst. Will he hit me? Will he tie me up and whip my naked flesh? Or, will he allow my infraction? I bow myself lower, hoping it will sway his decision to forgive me and allow my speech.
The floor is filthy, and the stench is sickening. Master’s feet are at my head. But I press lower. Bile rises in the back of my throat, but I swallow, holding back the vomit that tries to emerge. I hear Master begin to laugh, not a happy cheerful laugh, but an evil maniacal laugh. It threatens me and promises punishment. He knows he has power over me and this pleases him. His laugh brings hatred to the surface, yet I bite my tongue and press the rage back down inside. “Not now.” I tell myself, “Not yet. The time is not right.”
“Very well, speak!” Master approves my request. My thoughts race through my head…I try to formulate my request. Without shifting my position, I speak into the floor because I know that I am not permitted to move, only to speak. I take a deep breath and speak.
“Master,” I begin. “Will I be allowed to see my children?” My heart races and my face flushes. I have decided to be straight to the point and not test his patience with frivolous banter. I listen for his answer, but I hear only his breath.
“No!” Master booms.
Without thought, my mouth speaks again. “Perhaps Master will allow me to call them to let them know I am safe…” I pause, “… in your care.” I hold my breath. Master’s feet shift and I brace myself for pain. His feet shift and move away. I am puzzled. Normally, this outburst would cause Master to become violent. Too many times, I have been bludgeoned or whipped for unwelcome questions. Today it serves him to answer me.
“No!” He denies my request again. “You will never see or speak to your children again! They will grow up believing you have died… or worse, left them.”
Tears well up and begin to fall from my eyes. I hold back the sobs as my heart wrenches in agony. Images of my children flash in my mind as tears fall.
Once again, hatred pushes sadness away. Tears stop falling because Master does not deserve them. My tears are mine and not his! I clench my teeth together, grinding my jaws tightly. Slowly and with a deadness in my voice, I speak one last time. “Yes, Master.”
“Get back to work,” he growls.
Quickly I jump to my feet and climb the counter to continue the work ordered of me. Never once do I meet with Master’s eyes. I fear he would see my seething hatred. I keep my eyes on the task. Anger speaks loudly in my head and Rage agrees wholeheartedly. I can take this no more.
After cleaning the cupboard, I am escorted to the room where we are held against our wills. My eyes still turned down, feigning humbleness. In the shadows, I see many others with my peripheral vision. All are scared. All look to me, the ‘eldest’ as their example. Pushed inside the room, I hear the click of the lock as the bolt to the door is turned. Locked in this room, no furniture to sit on, only dim lighting allows us to see our dismal circumstances. None of us understands why we are here, except we have Master to serve. Whispers from the others begin as Master walks from the doorway.
“What did you have to do?” asks one captive.
“Are you okay?” asks another.
“Did you find a way out?” blurts another.
“Shhh!” I mouth to them as I sit on the floor. Drawing my knees up to my chest I bury my head in my arms. I begin to sob, as I consider never seeing my children again.
The others shuffle and scoot closer to me to comfort me, realizing that something has happened. Once again, Anger and Rage take control of my thoughts. I begin to whisper to all around me. “How is it that we are many and he is but one? Why can we not over power him?” My mind begins to consider all the possibilities, all the past attempts toward freedom. I began to tear apart all the flaws of each past attempt.
The next day, Master brings me outside. We have our usual walk in the sunshine. I am not certain if it is a daily routine or not. However, after allowing Anger and Rage to work together on a plan to escape, I allow my senses to take in what is around me. I hear birds, feel the breeze, see the sunlight, smell the jasmine by the door, and feel the grass under my feet. I see trees, birds, squirrels, leaves, grass & flowers, all so very vivid and beautiful.
Sidetracked with all my senses, I had not realized that Master had stopped to lie on the grass. This seemed strange to me. I had never heard that he ever had done so before. As he lay there, on the grass, it occurred to me that I could overpower him now. I was above him and I could overpower him.
My mind began to construct then deconstruct everything around me. The act of overpowering him excited me. Before another thought went through my mind, I went down to him, embraced him as if to make love to him. He fell right in suit, following my lead. He smelled of pure evil, vile. Repulsed by his touch, Anger and Rage were in control. I took a back seat and watched as they used my arms, my body, and grabbed him around his neck. Squeezing him slowly at first, I felt his excitement. Then at the blink of an eye, my hands took his head and wrenched it around past the stopping point of his neck. He gasped one last breath as his neck cracked and gave way to my force. His body went limp in my arms, not one bit of struggle. Strange.
I let go of his head and watch as it falls to the ground. His face holds one last expression on his face…surprise.
Getting up, I turn to walk back to my room. Anger and Rage have left me numb and emotionless. There is no fear, no remorse, no happiness or cheering. My captivity has been so long, I just have nothing to feel for the freedom I have gained. I retrace my path along the grass, past the jasmine and through the door to the house. The end of my path ends where I first began. Reaching up I open the door to my room, all eyes stop on me. I smell fear is strong as I reenter the room. All notice that the door remains open. I inform the captives that Master is dead and I am responsible. They gasp in disbelief, yet hope I speak the truth.
The others rush through the door to see, to prove what I have said. All brush past me, knocking me like a pinball in a machine between them. I wake from my numb haze and follow. All form a circle around Master, staring down in disbelief when suddenly his head moves and unwinds from the twist I left for him. Shrieks and gasps as all step back, all but me. Without another thought, I slam my knee down on Master, grab his head and twist again. This time I turn full circle, knowing nothing can resurrect from such demise as this.
All look to me amazed and I say, “No one keeps me captive.”
Master has set a chair out for me to climb. His task for me is to scrub down the cupboard doors that don the dried-on sticky mess of vanilla colored ice cream. My stomach turns at the look and smell of this room. Master hands me a dirty, grungy cloth, dampened with cold water. “Get to it!” Master growls to me. “Get that shit off the doors!” I nod, affirming his command. Speaking is not allowed without permission.
Climbing the chair to the countertop, I reach the doors that I must clean. Laying cloth to a door, I begin to scrub circles to the area. Apparently, Master got angry one night when he was served melted ice cream. Outraged, he threw his bowl across the kitchen. I can only assume Master beat the one who served him.
In the background, I hear the whimpering and crying of another. Perhaps that one caused this mess. Knowing what I know of Master, I had better clean this mess perfectly, or I will be tortured for failing. I have been here too long and have learned from experience what to expect if I fail. When one fails Master, he tortures in different ways. Master tied up this offender by all fours and gagged them for silence. Master likes his riding crop most of all. I shudder at the thought.
My thoughts continue as I scrub this door. I cannot remember the day Master brought me to this place. I am one of the older women. It is now my job to train the new ones who arrive at this place. All are terrified of Master. If only they would give in to him, their lives would be simpler, easier. Not everyone likes captivity. I know I do not. However, I have watched as others attempt escape. Only those who have died achieve escape. Poor bastards.
My thoughts flash to my children. I have two. They must miss me. Do they remember who I am? Have I been gone too long? Without thinking, I speak out of turn, “Master, may I speak?” My hand reaches for my mouth as if to reel the words back in and my heart jolts in my chest as I meet his eyes with my question. Fear grips as my mind spins in terror. Panic sets in as I realize I have spoken out of turn. Master prefers a more respectful and reverent means of requesting anything. I quickly descend from my lofty place on the counter to lower myself below him. Maybe that will keep Master from his anger. I hope.
Kneeling before him, I beg forgiveness for my insolence and steel myself for the back of his hand. Nothing comes. No sound, no pain, nothing. I open my eyes to see Master staring back at me. Contemplation is in his face as he decides what he will do about my outburst. Will he hit me? Will he tie me up and whip my naked flesh? Or, will he allow my infraction? I bow myself lower, hoping it will sway his decision to forgive me and allow my speech.
The floor is filthy, and the stench is sickening. Master’s feet are at my head. But I press lower. Bile rises in the back of my throat, but I swallow, holding back the vomit that tries to emerge. I hear Master begin to laugh, not a happy cheerful laugh, but an evil maniacal laugh. It threatens me and promises punishment. He knows he has power over me and this pleases him. His laugh brings hatred to the surface, yet I bite my tongue and press the rage back down inside. “Not now.” I tell myself, “Not yet. The time is not right.”
“Very well, speak!” Master approves my request. My thoughts race through my head…I try to formulate my request. Without shifting my position, I speak into the floor because I know that I am not permitted to move, only to speak. I take a deep breath and speak.
“Master,” I begin. “Will I be allowed to see my children?” My heart races and my face flushes. I have decided to be straight to the point and not test his patience with frivolous banter. I listen for his answer, but I hear only his breath.
“No!” Master booms.
Without thought, my mouth speaks again. “Perhaps Master will allow me to call them to let them know I am safe…” I pause, “… in your care.” I hold my breath. Master’s feet shift and I brace myself for pain. His feet shift and move away. I am puzzled. Normally, this outburst would cause Master to become violent. Too many times, I have been bludgeoned or whipped for unwelcome questions. Today it serves him to answer me.
“No!” He denies my request again. “You will never see or speak to your children again! They will grow up believing you have died… or worse, left them.”
Tears well up and begin to fall from my eyes. I hold back the sobs as my heart wrenches in agony. Images of my children flash in my mind as tears fall.
Once again, hatred pushes sadness away. Tears stop falling because Master does not deserve them. My tears are mine and not his! I clench my teeth together, grinding my jaws tightly. Slowly and with a deadness in my voice, I speak one last time. “Yes, Master.”
“Get back to work,” he growls.
Quickly I jump to my feet and climb the counter to continue the work ordered of me. Never once do I meet with Master’s eyes. I fear he would see my seething hatred. I keep my eyes on the task. Anger speaks loudly in my head and Rage agrees wholeheartedly. I can take this no more.
After cleaning the cupboard, I am escorted to the room where we are held against our wills. My eyes still turned down, feigning humbleness. In the shadows, I see many others with my peripheral vision. All are scared. All look to me, the ‘eldest’ as their example. Pushed inside the room, I hear the click of the lock as the bolt to the door is turned. Locked in this room, no furniture to sit on, only dim lighting allows us to see our dismal circumstances. None of us understands why we are here, except we have Master to serve. Whispers from the others begin as Master walks from the doorway.
“What did you have to do?” asks one captive.
“Are you okay?” asks another.
“Did you find a way out?” blurts another.
“Shhh!” I mouth to them as I sit on the floor. Drawing my knees up to my chest I bury my head in my arms. I begin to sob, as I consider never seeing my children again.
The others shuffle and scoot closer to me to comfort me, realizing that something has happened. Once again, Anger and Rage take control of my thoughts. I begin to whisper to all around me. “How is it that we are many and he is but one? Why can we not over power him?” My mind begins to consider all the possibilities, all the past attempts toward freedom. I began to tear apart all the flaws of each past attempt.
The next day, Master brings me outside. We have our usual walk in the sunshine. I am not certain if it is a daily routine or not. However, after allowing Anger and Rage to work together on a plan to escape, I allow my senses to take in what is around me. I hear birds, feel the breeze, see the sunlight, smell the jasmine by the door, and feel the grass under my feet. I see trees, birds, squirrels, leaves, grass & flowers, all so very vivid and beautiful.
Sidetracked with all my senses, I had not realized that Master had stopped to lie on the grass. This seemed strange to me. I had never heard that he ever had done so before. As he lay there, on the grass, it occurred to me that I could overpower him now. I was above him and I could overpower him.
My mind began to construct then deconstruct everything around me. The act of overpowering him excited me. Before another thought went through my mind, I went down to him, embraced him as if to make love to him. He fell right in suit, following my lead. He smelled of pure evil, vile. Repulsed by his touch, Anger and Rage were in control. I took a back seat and watched as they used my arms, my body, and grabbed him around his neck. Squeezing him slowly at first, I felt his excitement. Then at the blink of an eye, my hands took his head and wrenched it around past the stopping point of his neck. He gasped one last breath as his neck cracked and gave way to my force. His body went limp in my arms, not one bit of struggle. Strange.
I let go of his head and watch as it falls to the ground. His face holds one last expression on his face…surprise.
Getting up, I turn to walk back to my room. Anger and Rage have left me numb and emotionless. There is no fear, no remorse, no happiness or cheering. My captivity has been so long, I just have nothing to feel for the freedom I have gained. I retrace my path along the grass, past the jasmine and through the door to the house. The end of my path ends where I first began. Reaching up I open the door to my room, all eyes stop on me. I smell fear is strong as I reenter the room. All notice that the door remains open. I inform the captives that Master is dead and I am responsible. They gasp in disbelief, yet hope I speak the truth.
The others rush through the door to see, to prove what I have said. All brush past me, knocking me like a pinball in a machine between them. I wake from my numb haze and follow. All form a circle around Master, staring down in disbelief when suddenly his head moves and unwinds from the twist I left for him. Shrieks and gasps as all step back, all but me. Without another thought, I slam my knee down on Master, grab his head and twist again. This time I turn full circle, knowing nothing can resurrect from such demise as this.
All look to me amazed and I say, “No one keeps me captive.”
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Napking Scrawl #28 -- Battle Within
Helpless and alone, I sit here wishing you were here. My heart beats the hardest when you are on my mind. It reminds me of what once was and what could be. As if to tell me there is a void, my heart squeezes hard to remind me that you aren’t here and that yet again, I am alone.
“Be still my heart,” I direct my thoughts. “Try to see the bright side. With no one here to fill you, you can beat all the harder and with more freedom. You can show your independence!” As if my heart had a mind of its own … I shake my head in wonderment, knowing I can do nothing to fill the absence. My mind wanders, thinking of ways to busy itself and fill the gap within my soul.
Closing my eyes, I look deep within and I remember the last time we were together. Your touch, you scent, your kiss are all but a memory, first vivid, clear and tangible, then fading into a mist. Mentally, I reach out to touch you, but like smoke, you vanish. What happened? Where did you go? Why did you leave?
My heart reminds me of the love that it once had and shows me the flame still glowing deep within. Now it only flickers, small and not so brightly, but it still dances in my heart waiting to burn ablaze once again.
My mind begins to wonder, does your heart beat hard within you? Does it remind you of me? Do you feel a void? Do you need me as I need you? Perhaps not, I think. Perhaps I’m the needy one. Perhaps I’m the only one who feels a void.
If that is the case and it is only me, my heart cries out for you once more. Come back to me quickly, for there is a battle going on, where heart and mind battle within, trying to find the reason why there is this great emptiness. My heart craves your touch. It needs your kiss to rekindle the fire.
Both heart and mind agree on one thing. I love you.
“Be still my heart,” I direct my thoughts. “Try to see the bright side. With no one here to fill you, you can beat all the harder and with more freedom. You can show your independence!” As if my heart had a mind of its own … I shake my head in wonderment, knowing I can do nothing to fill the absence. My mind wanders, thinking of ways to busy itself and fill the gap within my soul.
Closing my eyes, I look deep within and I remember the last time we were together. Your touch, you scent, your kiss are all but a memory, first vivid, clear and tangible, then fading into a mist. Mentally, I reach out to touch you, but like smoke, you vanish. What happened? Where did you go? Why did you leave?
My heart reminds me of the love that it once had and shows me the flame still glowing deep within. Now it only flickers, small and not so brightly, but it still dances in my heart waiting to burn ablaze once again.
My mind begins to wonder, does your heart beat hard within you? Does it remind you of me? Do you feel a void? Do you need me as I need you? Perhaps not, I think. Perhaps I’m the needy one. Perhaps I’m the only one who feels a void.
If that is the case and it is only me, my heart cries out for you once more. Come back to me quickly, for there is a battle going on, where heart and mind battle within, trying to find the reason why there is this great emptiness. My heart craves your touch. It needs your kiss to rekindle the fire.
Both heart and mind agree on one thing. I love you.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Napkin Scrawl #27 -- Lighting Our Path
Our lives are full of many paths laid out before us. Which direction we choose depends on decisions we make during the duration of our lives. We find that many paths do lead to the same outcome, yet others do not. Some paths, though they lead to a common goal, might be longer than another might, but they still meet that common goal.
Now, consider that this path is dark, unclear, muddled in some way, perhaps even distorted. You know you must go forward because there is nothing behind you. The past leads you nowhere. You could stay where you stand right now, living with what you have right now, never changing, just accepting. Oddly though, that in and of itself, is a decision as well. Therefore, it still keeps us moving in a forward motion.
However, we know that our lives require more.
Say that our paths, throughout our lifetime, are illuminated by various kinds of lights. Bright ones, dim ones, various colored ones, warm ones, and cool ones. Some of these lights may glow brightly. Others are steady, consistent glows lighting a smaller portion of our paths. Some lights draw us to them because they may shine brightly or they make us feel secure. Others we avoid because of how they make us feel. Each light has its benefits…and each its own hindrances. We make our decisions to walk down a path based on what we can see on that path. These lights represent people and opportunities that are on each path.
One light burns so brightly, it brings us happiness. It brings us excitement and clarity, making everything visible and plain to see. Nevertheless, a light can only burn so bright and only for a short time then eventually, it burns out, sometimes leaving us in the dark. In most cases, that darkness isn’t long or scary. You just keep moving on until another light illuminates our path. Other times, the darkness is so dark, so muddled, and so scary, we are afraid to move forward. We fear the things that may or may not be in front of us. We fear we’ll walk off our path, perhaps ending our journey.
Off in the distance, we see faint lights that glow, but because we are in the dark, we can’t see how to get to those low glowing places, or that next point in our path.
Then, from nowhere really, you see a dim light moving toward you. The closer it gets, the bigger and brighter it becomes. It brings excitement and joy to your heart, and peace to your soul. You find yourself drawn to it, forgetting the darkness that you stand in. You find yourself rushing for the light that brings you peace. No other light in the distance seems to matter, but that one, that little moving light is the one you need.
You discover that small light is a person who holds a flashlight or lantern, walking his or her own path. They are the ones who stop along the way, getting to know the people who cross their paths. They stop to comfort and encourage us. Often and when necessary, they help us along our paths by guiding, advising, encouraging, or just listening. Sometimes, that person stays with you the whole way, through the bright times and the dark times, always there to shine their light on your path as you walk through life. Sometimes that person changes, and you meet another to walk with you. And sometimes, that person needs you to hold the light whilst they determine their path.
None of us was ever suppose to walk alone. We need our friends, sometimes to guide us, sometimes to carry us, but always to support us and help us see the way.
Now, consider that this path is dark, unclear, muddled in some way, perhaps even distorted. You know you must go forward because there is nothing behind you. The past leads you nowhere. You could stay where you stand right now, living with what you have right now, never changing, just accepting. Oddly though, that in and of itself, is a decision as well. Therefore, it still keeps us moving in a forward motion.
However, we know that our lives require more.
Say that our paths, throughout our lifetime, are illuminated by various kinds of lights. Bright ones, dim ones, various colored ones, warm ones, and cool ones. Some of these lights may glow brightly. Others are steady, consistent glows lighting a smaller portion of our paths. Some lights draw us to them because they may shine brightly or they make us feel secure. Others we avoid because of how they make us feel. Each light has its benefits…and each its own hindrances. We make our decisions to walk down a path based on what we can see on that path. These lights represent people and opportunities that are on each path.
One light burns so brightly, it brings us happiness. It brings us excitement and clarity, making everything visible and plain to see. Nevertheless, a light can only burn so bright and only for a short time then eventually, it burns out, sometimes leaving us in the dark. In most cases, that darkness isn’t long or scary. You just keep moving on until another light illuminates our path. Other times, the darkness is so dark, so muddled, and so scary, we are afraid to move forward. We fear the things that may or may not be in front of us. We fear we’ll walk off our path, perhaps ending our journey.
Off in the distance, we see faint lights that glow, but because we are in the dark, we can’t see how to get to those low glowing places, or that next point in our path.
Then, from nowhere really, you see a dim light moving toward you. The closer it gets, the bigger and brighter it becomes. It brings excitement and joy to your heart, and peace to your soul. You find yourself drawn to it, forgetting the darkness that you stand in. You find yourself rushing for the light that brings you peace. No other light in the distance seems to matter, but that one, that little moving light is the one you need.
You discover that small light is a person who holds a flashlight or lantern, walking his or her own path. They are the ones who stop along the way, getting to know the people who cross their paths. They stop to comfort and encourage us. Often and when necessary, they help us along our paths by guiding, advising, encouraging, or just listening. Sometimes, that person stays with you the whole way, through the bright times and the dark times, always there to shine their light on your path as you walk through life. Sometimes that person changes, and you meet another to walk with you. And sometimes, that person needs you to hold the light whilst they determine their path.
None of us was ever suppose to walk alone. We need our friends, sometimes to guide us, sometimes to carry us, but always to support us and help us see the way.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Napkin Scrawl #26 -- Unwanted
Every day I look to you for reassurances that I know I will never get. A passionate kiss, a stroke, a word, anything, yet you give me nothing.
I have let years pass by, and yet you still do not understand me. You still do not realize how much I need you. You still do not see that I need to know you love me, daily. Maybe you just do not care.
A small kiss in the morning and a forced kiss at night is all you offer. When I say, "I love you," and you respond with, "I love you too" as if forced to respond. This, to me, is duty, not love.
To know you do not wish to look at me when I stand in front of you, tears me apart deeper than you can imagine. To know you would rather read your book or work your puzzle instead of talking to me, or caress me, or playfully teasing me kills me deep inside.
The teasing you do offer, cuts like a knife, digs deep into my soul and all you say is, “I’m just teasing.”
I cannot tell you how I feel. I cannot tell you of my need. Every time I do, you think I am teasing. You think I am “being silly.” It does not matter that I tell you I have something serious to discuss.
Why does it feel like you no longer want my heart? Just man-up and say you do not love me? Cut me deep. Cut me loose. Let me cry. Let me grow a hard shell around my heart so I can never give it to anyone ever again. At least I would know.
Of course, where we are today, is entirely my fault. I forgot it is always my fault. Apparently, I am too needy for you. I can no longer touch your heartstrings. Perhaps you realized too late that I am not what you really wanted or I do not offer what you need. Too bad, you won’t just talk to me. I am sorry that I cannot read your mind. I really thought I could. I really thought I could be everything you ever wanted. Apparently, it is true I am a failure.
I have let years pass by, and yet you still do not understand me. You still do not realize how much I need you. You still do not see that I need to know you love me, daily. Maybe you just do not care.
A small kiss in the morning and a forced kiss at night is all you offer. When I say, "I love you," and you respond with, "I love you too" as if forced to respond. This, to me, is duty, not love.
To know you do not wish to look at me when I stand in front of you, tears me apart deeper than you can imagine. To know you would rather read your book or work your puzzle instead of talking to me, or caress me, or playfully teasing me kills me deep inside.
The teasing you do offer, cuts like a knife, digs deep into my soul and all you say is, “I’m just teasing.”
I cannot tell you how I feel. I cannot tell you of my need. Every time I do, you think I am teasing. You think I am “being silly.” It does not matter that I tell you I have something serious to discuss.
Why does it feel like you no longer want my heart? Just man-up and say you do not love me? Cut me deep. Cut me loose. Let me cry. Let me grow a hard shell around my heart so I can never give it to anyone ever again. At least I would know.
Of course, where we are today, is entirely my fault. I forgot it is always my fault. Apparently, I am too needy for you. I can no longer touch your heartstrings. Perhaps you realized too late that I am not what you really wanted or I do not offer what you need. Too bad, you won’t just talk to me. I am sorry that I cannot read your mind. I really thought I could. I really thought I could be everything you ever wanted. Apparently, it is true I am a failure.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Napkin Scrawl #25 -- Morning Quietness
I lay there in the quietness hearing your soft breath, as you travel deep within your slumber.
You stir – We touch
The soft, slow sounds of your breath, tell tale signs of your deep sleep.
Gently, softly I brush fingertips across your skin. It prickles to my touch, yet your stillness remains.
You stir again.
Gently, softly your fingers brush my skin. Heat rises, desire begs for more.
Your hand finds solace in the valley of my breasts. Softly, steady sounds of sweet contentment rise and fall from your quiescent being.
My touch finds your dreams and draws your hunger to the surface.
Your eyes open to find mine, gazing at your beauty.
Your hand brushes my heated skin once more… softly.
And then, you are gone… a fleeting moment… no more.
I sigh as I watch you walk away from what could have been.
You stir – We touch
The soft, slow sounds of your breath, tell tale signs of your deep sleep.
Gently, softly I brush fingertips across your skin. It prickles to my touch, yet your stillness remains.
You stir again.
Gently, softly your fingers brush my skin. Heat rises, desire begs for more.
Your hand finds solace in the valley of my breasts. Softly, steady sounds of sweet contentment rise and fall from your quiescent being.
My touch finds your dreams and draws your hunger to the surface.
Your eyes open to find mine, gazing at your beauty.
Your hand brushes my heated skin once more… softly.
And then, you are gone… a fleeting moment… no more.
I sigh as I watch you walk away from what could have been.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Napkin Scrawl #24 -- Passion Interruptus
Closed in the bedroom of our suite, with no distractions, we found ourselves wrapped in each other’s arms, almost completely aroused and ready for each other. He concentrated on me more, making sure I was ready for him. Marking a trail of kisses down my neck, he stopped near my ear and said, “Want to fuck in front of the open window?”
Surprised by his comment, I drew my head back, looked squarely into his eyes, and gave him an inquisitive look. I started thinking to myself, Oh really. This is odd for him to ask, not to mention do. Oooh, and I love his use of the word ‘fuck’. I realized all this turned me on more. I grinned and said, “Why not! It’ll be fun!” I knew this would be a first for me as well, but something excited me about this new adventure.
He stood there, completely naked, erect and ready for action. He grabbed the curtains, yanking them back one side at a time. I grinned and giggled as he grabbed me and forcefully turned me toward the window. The sun shone brightly through the four-foot wide tinted hotel room window. Looking out the window, construction workers worked diligently on the building across the street and cars drove by cautiously, staying out of the construction zone. I thought to myself, this should be interesting and quite the show. We have never had sex where others could see. I found myself excited even more.
“Mmm,” I purred as his hands reached around me. Finding my breasts, he began to rub them gently, kneading them as if they were clay. Soon, his gentle demeanor became aggressive as he pulled me back to his chest abruptly. One arm held me firmly as his hand cupped my breast. Reaching his other hand down, he ran his fingers between my legs. “Mmm, you are wet,” he whispered closely in my ear. His lips touched my ear and the breath from his whisper made me tingle that much more as he pressed his hard body against me.
Pushing me forward into the window, my hands reactively reach out for the window frame to keep me from going through the window. I gasped as he grabbed my hips firmly. With his leg, he swept my feet apart, then reached up to my arms and ran his hands down my body. My breath caught and my skin prickled as his fingertips brushed the outsides of my breasts and trailed down to my waist. Leaning over me, his right hand reached around my stomach and trailed upwards, cupping my breast again. His other hand reached around and found my wetness. Yearning for him, I pressed myself against his hardness. At the same time, he lunged himself deep within me.
I began panting, moaning, as he pumped harder and faster into me. Each thrust plunged deep causing me to scream out, “Oh. My. God! Yes!!!” As I felt myself just on the edge of orgasm, the bedroom door swung open. The sound of the door hitting the doorstop caused me to jump, lunge for a blanket on the bed, to cover up. Our son walked in as if we were not in the room. He walked to the luggage, and striped off his clothes.
“What the hell are you doing?!” I yelled at him. “Get the fuck out of here!” I continued to scream.
Completely aghast, his eyes wide as saucers, he covered his nakedness with his hands. “Ahhh!” He screamed out completely surprised to see that we were there. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He continued to yell. He began to back out of the room when my eyes caught his glance. I looked to see what he was looking at, only to see my husband standing there in all his glory sporting the hardest wood I had ever seen. Seeing that we were indisposed, our son blushed crimson, turned around and ran out the door.
Completely upset, angered, and frustrated, I sprinted to the bathroom. I felt hysteria grip me, and now could no longer bring the mood back to finish what we had started. As I began to tell my husband that, he needed to speak to his son about this intrusion, I awoke and realized this was just a dream.
Surprised by his comment, I drew my head back, looked squarely into his eyes, and gave him an inquisitive look. I started thinking to myself, Oh really. This is odd for him to ask, not to mention do. Oooh, and I love his use of the word ‘fuck’. I realized all this turned me on more. I grinned and said, “Why not! It’ll be fun!” I knew this would be a first for me as well, but something excited me about this new adventure.
He stood there, completely naked, erect and ready for action. He grabbed the curtains, yanking them back one side at a time. I grinned and giggled as he grabbed me and forcefully turned me toward the window. The sun shone brightly through the four-foot wide tinted hotel room window. Looking out the window, construction workers worked diligently on the building across the street and cars drove by cautiously, staying out of the construction zone. I thought to myself, this should be interesting and quite the show. We have never had sex where others could see. I found myself excited even more.
“Mmm,” I purred as his hands reached around me. Finding my breasts, he began to rub them gently, kneading them as if they were clay. Soon, his gentle demeanor became aggressive as he pulled me back to his chest abruptly. One arm held me firmly as his hand cupped my breast. Reaching his other hand down, he ran his fingers between my legs. “Mmm, you are wet,” he whispered closely in my ear. His lips touched my ear and the breath from his whisper made me tingle that much more as he pressed his hard body against me.
Pushing me forward into the window, my hands reactively reach out for the window frame to keep me from going through the window. I gasped as he grabbed my hips firmly. With his leg, he swept my feet apart, then reached up to my arms and ran his hands down my body. My breath caught and my skin prickled as his fingertips brushed the outsides of my breasts and trailed down to my waist. Leaning over me, his right hand reached around my stomach and trailed upwards, cupping my breast again. His other hand reached around and found my wetness. Yearning for him, I pressed myself against his hardness. At the same time, he lunged himself deep within me.
I began panting, moaning, as he pumped harder and faster into me. Each thrust plunged deep causing me to scream out, “Oh. My. God! Yes!!!” As I felt myself just on the edge of orgasm, the bedroom door swung open. The sound of the door hitting the doorstop caused me to jump, lunge for a blanket on the bed, to cover up. Our son walked in as if we were not in the room. He walked to the luggage, and striped off his clothes.
“What the hell are you doing?!” I yelled at him. “Get the fuck out of here!” I continued to scream.
Completely aghast, his eyes wide as saucers, he covered his nakedness with his hands. “Ahhh!” He screamed out completely surprised to see that we were there. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He continued to yell. He began to back out of the room when my eyes caught his glance. I looked to see what he was looking at, only to see my husband standing there in all his glory sporting the hardest wood I had ever seen. Seeing that we were indisposed, our son blushed crimson, turned around and ran out the door.
Completely upset, angered, and frustrated, I sprinted to the bathroom. I felt hysteria grip me, and now could no longer bring the mood back to finish what we had started. As I began to tell my husband that, he needed to speak to his son about this intrusion, I awoke and realized this was just a dream.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Napkin Scrawl #23 -- Being Me
It’s not easy being me,
Grew up awkward as can be.
I’m no drop dead diva,
No prima donna mama.
One of the boys
I tried to be.
I ran with my shirt off,
Climbed up trees.
Learned to whistle loudly,
And how to spit real far.
Hot headed, short fused,
My mouth learns to spew.
My imagination,
It’s one to be desired.
Yeah, that’s me…
My beauty comes from within,
It’s more than just skin deep.
I’ll talk to anyone.
Just let me in.
I hand out advice,
Even if you ask real nice.
I hug you, squeeze you, and call you my own.
Yeah, that’s me…
Grew up awkward as can be.
I’m no drop dead diva,
No prima donna mama.
One of the boys
I tried to be.
I ran with my shirt off,
Climbed up trees.
Learned to whistle loudly,
And how to spit real far.
Hot headed, short fused,
My mouth learns to spew.
My imagination,
It’s one to be desired.
Yeah, that’s me…
My beauty comes from within,
It’s more than just skin deep.
I’ll talk to anyone.
Just let me in.
I hand out advice,
Even if you ask real nice.
I hug you, squeeze you, and call you my own.
Yeah, that’s me…
Monday, August 30, 2010
Napkin Scrawl #22 -- Fence of Emotion
Sitting on the fence of emotion, one side gloriously positive, the other its opposite, one push and I fall. One day a kind word, a touch, a kiss sends me sailing, floating, fluttering inside. The next an unpleasant sigh, a harsh word, a mean look, I falter, falling, diving into a tailspin of despair.
You send me soaring to one side or the other, like an emotional barometer. Your words, your touch, your tenderness send the mercury of my heart into soaring highs or diving lows.
My heart holds on to each emotion as if no other can replace it. But each minute, hour, day, holds something new.
There are two sides to everything. Choices to be made. Will you make the mercury of my heart soar? Or will you cause my heart to sink?
You send me soaring to one side or the other, like an emotional barometer. Your words, your touch, your tenderness send the mercury of my heart into soaring highs or diving lows.
My heart holds on to each emotion as if no other can replace it. But each minute, hour, day, holds something new.
There are two sides to everything. Choices to be made. Will you make the mercury of my heart soar? Or will you cause my heart to sink?
Friday, August 27, 2010
Napkin Scrawl #21 - Diabolic Eminence
Off in the distance is a rumble
The ground shakes, rolls, and mumbles.
Clouds float through the skies
Cruising on great highs.
Lightning cracks, sizzles, sears
Eyes see, ears hear.
The sky concedes to lightning’s strikes
Floods of tears fall from its might.
The ground shakes, rolls, and mumbles.
Clouds float through the skies
Cruising on great highs.
Lightning cracks, sizzles, sears
Eyes see, ears hear.
The sky concedes to lightning’s strikes
Floods of tears fall from its might.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Napkin Scrawl #20 -- Fighting the Monsters
A monster looms, sitting on my mind’s shoulder as a gargoyle lurking, ready for attack. Just the right ingredients of emotion and he flies off to try to conquer my mind. Like a vulture he sits, waiting for the right thought, the right sigh, or the right feeling to arise.
It sits there stroking that last nerve that sends one into contemplation of self. Silence looms in my mind and he begins whispering his lies of malcontent. “You have been forgotten. *Haha!* Nobody cares how you feel! *HeHeHe* Oh, he forgot to say good-bye. Oh dear, he must not care for you. *Haha*” He jests and laughs, hoping it will draw me deeper into the darkness of my mind.
*Sigh* “Maybe I’m just a bad friend. Or, maybe no one really cares. Maybe I am alone.” I begin repeating the lies that darken my thoughts.
I fight back, first ignoring the malignant lies. I explain inside my mind that this is merely loneliness working hand in hand with some paranoia. Two nasty monsters that loom in the back of my mind, hoping that one day I might believe their garbage. However, sometimes talking to myself is not enough. Their darkness presses in.
Turning on music, I am intent on washing away the darkness that shrouds my mind. At least with music blaring, my thoughts are at bay. Dancing, swaying, bouncing to the tunes, the monsters run away. They don’t like my happiness. It acts like a wet blanket that puts out their flames. However, this only lasts as long as the playlist runs. Once again, I hear the whispers, the lies. I feel as if I’m missing something… something critical.
Sleep sometimes helps, but then am I not just running away from the inevitable? Will I not have to face this monster once again? Won’t it just invade my dreams?
A sound comes from my phone a text message arrives. “Hey bb! Hope you’re having a good day, *hugs*” I close my eyes and imagine the warmth of that hug. Like sunshine on my face, it pushes the loneliness away. I smile knowing that I am not alone and someone does care.
I grin at the monsters, pushing them further and further away. “You can’t have me this time! I win!” I watch as the warmth flows through me shining through the shroud that threatens to steal my joy and happiness.
I remember the words of Lewis Carrol:
It’s my turn to pay forward. I reach out to a friend and send a hug along, hoping to push their darkness away too.
**Hugs!** Let that be your sword to fight back the darkness!
It sits there stroking that last nerve that sends one into contemplation of self. Silence looms in my mind and he begins whispering his lies of malcontent. “You have been forgotten. *Haha!* Nobody cares how you feel! *HeHeHe* Oh, he forgot to say good-bye. Oh dear, he must not care for you. *Haha*” He jests and laughs, hoping it will draw me deeper into the darkness of my mind.
*Sigh* “Maybe I’m just a bad friend. Or, maybe no one really cares. Maybe I am alone.” I begin repeating the lies that darken my thoughts.
I fight back, first ignoring the malignant lies. I explain inside my mind that this is merely loneliness working hand in hand with some paranoia. Two nasty monsters that loom in the back of my mind, hoping that one day I might believe their garbage. However, sometimes talking to myself is not enough. Their darkness presses in.
Turning on music, I am intent on washing away the darkness that shrouds my mind. At least with music blaring, my thoughts are at bay. Dancing, swaying, bouncing to the tunes, the monsters run away. They don’t like my happiness. It acts like a wet blanket that puts out their flames. However, this only lasts as long as the playlist runs. Once again, I hear the whispers, the lies. I feel as if I’m missing something… something critical.
Sleep sometimes helps, but then am I not just running away from the inevitable? Will I not have to face this monster once again? Won’t it just invade my dreams?
A sound comes from my phone a text message arrives. “Hey bb! Hope you’re having a good day, *hugs*” I close my eyes and imagine the warmth of that hug. Like sunshine on my face, it pushes the loneliness away. I smile knowing that I am not alone and someone does care.
I grin at the monsters, pushing them further and further away. “You can’t have me this time! I win!” I watch as the warmth flows through me shining through the shroud that threatens to steal my joy and happiness.
I remember the words of Lewis Carrol:
“One, two! One, two! And through and throughI remind myself that I must keep myself busy and wield MY vorpal blade, writing, working, reading, and chatting with friends. These are just a few ways to keep the gargoyles from ruining my day!
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.”
It’s my turn to pay forward. I reach out to a friend and send a hug along, hoping to push their darkness away too.
**Hugs!** Let that be your sword to fight back the darkness!
Friday, August 20, 2010
Awakened - Chapter 3
“Peter, Peter, Peter,” Christoph chuckled as he opened the door. “What can I do for you, sir?”
Peter giggled at his father's use of the word 'sir.' “You’re silly Dad!” Peter nearly tackled Christoph with a great big hug. “It’s good to see you, Daddy.” His hug showed Christoph just how much Peter had truly missed him.
Christoph grabbed hold of Peter and gave him one big hug. It felt like a lifetime since he had hugged so tightly. Christoph held him and breathed in his scent. “It’s good to see you as well, son. I missed you too! Now, what is it that I can do for you?” He let him go from his embrace.
Peter hung his head and said, “Um, I was just lonely and wondered where Momma was. I’m kind of hungry and wondered if I could have a snack.”
Christoph rested his hand atop Peter’s head, “Hmm, snack huh? Well first, you have to do something for me.” Peter looked inquisitive. “First, you need to tell me what time it is, because I’m just not sure.”
Peter smiled then darted into the kitchen and looked at the clock radio. “It's 3:30, Dad!” Resting his hands on his hips, he blurted out with a huff, as if Christoph should have known already.
Laughing, Christoph shook his head and replied, “Not that clock! That clock is digital and doesn’t teach you how to tell time! Next time, I want to you use this!” He pulled out a watch from his pocket and handed it to Peter. “I saw this at a shop while I was away this last time. It kept speaking to me. Want to know what it said?” Peter’s eyes lit up, and he nodded vigorously. Christoph sat on a chair in the kitchen and pulled Peter closer to himself. He put the watch on his wrist, and quietly murmured into Peter’s ear, “It said, ‘I would like to be Peter’s watch. Get me for Peter.’”
Peter giggled, “No it didn’t Dad!”
“It didn’t? How do you know? You see Goofy right there. Maybe it was his voice I heard.” Peter looked intently at his new Goofy watch then he placed his ear on the face, ‘Tick, tick, tick’ was all he heard.
“I don’t hear Goofy Dad,” he whispered.
Christoph could not help but laugh. “Peter, where are Goofy’s hands pointing on the watch?”
Looking intently once again, Peter said, “The short-hand is between the three and the four, and the long one is on the seven.”
“So do you know what time that is?” Christoph asked.
Peter used his pointer finger from his right hand and began pointing at each number while counting by fives, “Five, ten, fifteen …” He counted to thirty-five, and then proudly announced, “Thirty-five minutes after three! Three thirty-five!”
“Good job, my man! Give me five!” He held his hand out waiting for Peter to slap his hand, which Peter took as an invitation to hit his hand hard. ‘Smack!’
“Well Peter, what this means is that dinner is closer now and having a big snack is probably out of the question, so, how’s about a small one? Hmm, let me think…Want to share an apple with me?” Peter nodded his head in affirmation. “Ok, go get me an apple, and I’ll cut it up for both of us.” Peter went to the refrigerator, opened the door, and picked the biggest reddest apple he could find. He walked to the sink, turned the cold water on, and began to wash the apple off. He then took his apple to the cutting board on the counter. “One second, Pete.” Christoph grabbed the sponge and spray cleaner and quickly sprayed the counter down. Then he set the cutting board down. “There we go! Let’s cut this.” Christoph cut up the apple into eighths. He put four in a bowl for Peter and put four in the second bowl for himself. Then he went to the refrigerator again grabbed the Peanut Butter and spooned out a big spoonful in his own bowl then offered Peter a spoonful. Peter nodded his head, affirming his desire for Peanut Butter.
As Peter began to eat his snack at the table, he began to wonder why his dad was so silly and happy. Shrugging it off to himself, he took another bite and stared at Goofy’s hands on his watch. Goofy was his favorite Disney character and was elated to have his favorite cartoon character on his wrist. His grin grew on his face as he put his apple down and wrapped his arms around his dad. “Thanks for the watch, Dad. I love it.” He kissed his dad on the cheek with a messy, Peanut Butter kiss.
They both laughed as Christoph wiped the Peanut Butter from his cheek. “You’re welcome, buddy… now go finish your snack before your mom comes out and notices that I’ve just spoiled your appetite.” Peter went back to eating his snack.
* * * * *
“Slam!” The screen door shut hard and tight at the front door. Peter jumped up startled at the sound. Christoph looked in the direction of the front door. Andrew ran through the door shouting, “Pete! Pete! Where are you?”
Peter waved his Peanut Butter covered hand, “In the kitchen!”
Andrew barreled through the house, excited to see Peter. “Dude! C’mon outside. We need another player for ‘Capture the Flag!’”
In all the excitement, Christoph stood up and reached for Andrew. “Hey, Andrew, don’t you say hi to your ol’ dad.”
“Oh... Hey Dad, when did you get home?” His excitement diminished a bit as he realized his father was home.
“Well, I’ve been home all day. I was working in my office today.”
Andrew stood there puzzled. He remembered when he came home, peeking through his father’s office doorway. “Hmm, I looked in your office when I came home. I didn’t see you there.” He shrugged his shoulders, believing perhaps that his father was just teasing him.
Christoph explained, “Well, I wasn’t in my office when you came home. I have been in there working all day, though. I had decided on a break for a bit when you boys came home. Eh, why am I explaining all this to you?” He smirked and then ruffled Andrew’s hair.
Andrew shrugged his shoulders and attempted to rake his mussed hair back into place. “I don’t know, just seems like you’re not around much anymore.”
Christoph began to feel guilty for being gone so much. His business had taken him away from his family more than he expected. Sitting there at the table, Christof tried to gather his thoughts, but he kept hearing Andrew’s words echo through his head. “Well, Andrew…” he lingered as he tried to formulate his thoughts. He took his bowl of apple slices and offered it to Andrew. “This new job I have may not be fun for the family, right now, but I hope that soon I can be home more often.” Christoph was not certain how much explanation he needed to ease his boys’ minds. Taking a moment longer, he then drummed his fingers on the table and gave Andrew a hug. “I’m sorry I’ve not been around. These last few weeks have been hard for me too.”
Andrew had become bitter. Standing there in his father’s embrace, he could not hug back. His feelings were hurt, and he was concerned for his mother’s loneliness, but he would not let his father know his thoughts. Not now, not yet. “Uh, yeah Dad, I got some friends waiting for me outside. We need to go. C’mon Pete.” He strode away from his dad, grabbed Peter by the arm and walked out the front door.”
“Hey, wait a sec!” Christoph shouted. “Be back in an hour to check in with your mom!”
“Yeah, yeah… Whatever.” Andrew waved his hand as if trying to erase a bad memory.
Christoph leaned against the kitchen doorjamb and let out a deep sigh. It was then he realized that he had some serious issues to deal with at home. It was as if his eyes opened from a dream and revealed the loss of his family. Yes, he still lived there. Yes, he was still married to the most beautiful woman he had ever met. Yes, he had two beautiful boys. But, to Christoph, it felt as if they no longer saw him as husband and father, but as a passer-by, a stranger, living in the same home, but not in their lives. So many things were different and distant. Yet because of his work, his choice was to ignore things at home until he could get his workload leveled out and under control. The only problem… his workload never did level out. He was continually working toward the next deadline, the next emergency, the next catastrophe.
Pulled from his thoughts, Christoph heard a loud crash, tinkle and then the cat screaming and hissing to the commotion outside. Christoph ran out the back door to investigate. As he exited the door, he spotted their grey cat, Schrödinger, scampering away from a pile of glass and hummingbird food on the ground. Schrödinger had apparently attempted to catch a hummingbird but missed terribly, knocking the feeder off its hook.
Christoph went back into the kitchen to find a broom. “Where the hell does she keep the broom?” He mumbled himself as he looked in every cupboard throughout the kitchen.
The bedroom door opened, drawing Christoph’s attention from his search. Laurel walked out the door and glanced up to see Christoph frustrated from rifling through the cupboards. “What’s up, babe? Did you lose something?” She grinned at him, knowing that he was out of his element there in the kitchen.
Christoph now flustered, answered, “I’m just looking for the broom! It seems Schrödinger has made a mess of the hummingbird feeder. I was going to sweep it up before you came out here.”
“Oh no! I loved that feeder. Darn that cat!” Reaching in the corner, next to the door, Laurel grabbed the broom and dustpan and began to walk out the door.
Christoph dashed to her side and grabbed the broom and dustpan from her hands. “Here, I can handle it!" He then continued out the door and began to sweep up the broken pieces of glass outside. She stood there, stunned that he had taken the tools swiftly and abruptly from her hands.
Laurel watched as Christoph swept through the sticky, syrupy mess. She found it appealing to watch him maneuver the mess into one pile and then bend to scoop it up into the dustpan. She tried to remember the last time she had seen Christoph clean up anything. She couldn't. As she stood there deep in her thoughts watching, it occurred to her that she could help by getting the garden hose to spray down the sticky mess.
Walking to the back of the house, Laurel untangled the garden hose, stretching it out so that she could use it where Christoph was working. She then returned to the spigot and turned the water on full blast. Laurel’s eyes widen as she watched the garden hose take on a life of its own, spraying water everywhere. Quickly, she ran to capture the nozzle end. The wild hose had sprayed and soaked her as she reached out to grab the sprayer. Disengaging the sprayer, Laurel stood there dripping wet and in shock. She looked up at Christoph who was rolling in laughter at her demise.
Not appreciating Christoph’s laughter, Laurel took the sprayer nozzle pointed it at him and squeezed the trigger firmly. “That’s for laughing at me!” She shouted at Christoph. The water found its target thoroughly soaking Christoph from head to toe. Christoph dropped the broom and ran toward Laurel as she continued to spray him.
Realizing that she had just drenched Christoph, Laurel let out a squeal and began laughing. She turned quickly and ran with the garden hose in tow, spraying him as she ran. Christoph pursued her until she ran out of hose. Then like a lion playing with its prey, he stalked closer to her, making sure she could not get away.
“You drenched me, you wicked minx! Why did you do that?” He asked, as his devious smile grew bigger on his face.
Laurel’s eyes grew big and round as she readied herself for another escape. “I didn’t mean to soak you!” She replied with a giggle, “I just meant to... uh… startle you. You laughed at me!”
“Seeing the look on your face after being hosed down by the ‘wild’ garden hose was pretty entertaining!” By now, Christoph was rolling in laughter as he reenacted what he saw only moments earlier.
Laurel feinted left then ran right in an attempt to dodge Christoph. Seeing her deceptive dodge, Christoph ran after her. “I swear… I’m going to get that hose and soak you down! We’ll see how you like that.” Christoph laughed maniacally with his threat. Finally, Christoph found his opportunity and cut across the yard. Leaping forward, he grabbed at Laurel, hooking his arms around her waist and tackling her to the ground. He finally reached out, grabbed the hose from her hands, and pointed the nozzle right at her.
“No! No! No! It was an accident!” Laurel squirmed and laughed as she tried to convince Christoph. “I. Am. So. Sorry.” She giggled and snorted trying to get the words out, “I was just trying to help you clean up!”
“Here let me help clean YOU up.” Christoph squeezed the sprayer, spraying Laurel all the way down her body. Laurel screamed at the cold water thoroughly drenching her fresh clothes. She guarded her face with her hands, hoping to keep the spray from getting in her eyes. She tried as hard as she could to wriggle free, but Christoph sat on her legs, pinning her to the ground.
Christoph saw that Laurel was covering her face from the spray. So, he took the opportunity, to swiftly and simultaneously grab her pants and the sprayer nozzle and spray the water into her pants. “Nooo!” Laurel screamed. “Chris! These are fresh clothes!”
By now, Laurel began to get upset. She had no place to go, was utterly helpless, and now entirely well soaked. All she could do was hit Christoph in the head with her hands. So, she began swinging. This was no longer fun!
One hit to the head and Christoph realized he had taken his fun too far. He tossed the sprayer nozzle away and held onto Laurel as she squirmed. He laid his head on her cold, wet stomach, trying to calm her down. Laurel grabbed two fists full of hair and pulled hard. “Whoa, baby! Easy Laurel! I’m sorry! Ouch!” He exclaimed. Freeing himself from her grasp, he rolled off her and let her up.
Just his weight removed from her legs helped Laurel to let go of all her pent-up anxiety and breathe. She jumped to her feet and looked squarely at Christoph not sure of what she wanted to say. She was so upset with what had happened. Standing there, she first put her hands on her hips. That felt wrong, so she fidgeted more and then crossed her arms in front of her. That was when she realized that there was a cool breeze blowing and she was freezing cold.
“Uh, baby? Are you ok?” Christoph cajoled. He reached out to touch her leg. “I’m sorry, baby.”
Lauren took a deep breath and let it out a loud blast of air. “Yes. I’ll be fine.” She stated. “I don’t like being pinned like that, I guess.”
“Come here.” He reached up to take her hand. Laurel took it and came back down to Christoph in the grass. He took her waist in his hands and drew her to him. “Let me try to warm you up.”
Laurel straddled Christoph’s hips and sat on him saying, “I’m not cold.”
Christoph looked up at Laurel. Her arms rippled with goosebumps from the cool blowing breeze. She wore a white t-shirt, which clung to her skin. Her tan skin showed through her wet t-shirt. Her nipples were visibly firm, her breasts round and tempting. He reached up cupping both breasts gently in his hands. He drew circles around her nipples with his thumbs, occasionally stroking over the tips. “You sure look cold to me.” He grinned. “Maybe you are just glad to see me.” He smirked. He reached inside her wet shirt and found her breasts once more. He continued rubbing and kneading her breasts. He took her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, pinching firmly and then starting all over again.
Each stroke, each squeeze, and each pinch caused Laurel’s breath to hitch. She could feel her breast harden more then they were from the cold. “Oooh, you naughty boy!” She exclaimed, pushing into the motions his hands made. The pleasure she felt caused her to rock on Christoph’s groin.
Leaning down to Christoph, Laurel’s lips found his. Her tongue searched to gain entrance into his mouth. She gently sucked in his lower lip and bit down. Christoph moaned. Laurel placed her hands in Christoph’s hair using it to pull her cold, wet, perky body across his chest. They kissed again. This time both gained access to the other. Their tongues danced together as their bodies began their telltale signs of desire.
“No, you call out to them!” Peter whispered to Andrew.
“No way! You call out to them. They won’t get mad at you!” Andrew said in a not so quiet voice.
Hearing the boys arguing, Christoph and Laurel snapped their heads up to see where the boys were. Using each other to cover their evidence of private behavior, Laurel smiled and said, “What’s up boys? Is there something you need?”
“Dad said to be back in an hour for dinner,” Andrew explained.
Laurel looked down to Christoph for an explanation. Christoph just shrugged. “Oops. I lost track of time I guess. Uh, let’s see… Could one of you go grab a towel for Mom? I think she’s cold.” He smirked at Laurel.
Peter replied, “I will, daddy. Be right back.” Off he ran through the back door, into the house. Within a minute or two, Peter ran out the door again, running toward Laurel and Christoph with a huge beach towel bunched up on his head. “Here you go, momma!”
Taking the towel, Laurel wrapped herself up and started for the house. Looking at Christoph, she grinned and said, “I guess I need to go get MORE dry clothes on. See you inside.” Off she strode.
Peter giggled at his father's use of the word 'sir.' “You’re silly Dad!” Peter nearly tackled Christoph with a great big hug. “It’s good to see you, Daddy.” His hug showed Christoph just how much Peter had truly missed him.
Christoph grabbed hold of Peter and gave him one big hug. It felt like a lifetime since he had hugged so tightly. Christoph held him and breathed in his scent. “It’s good to see you as well, son. I missed you too! Now, what is it that I can do for you?” He let him go from his embrace.
Peter hung his head and said, “Um, I was just lonely and wondered where Momma was. I’m kind of hungry and wondered if I could have a snack.”
Christoph rested his hand atop Peter’s head, “Hmm, snack huh? Well first, you have to do something for me.” Peter looked inquisitive. “First, you need to tell me what time it is, because I’m just not sure.”
Peter smiled then darted into the kitchen and looked at the clock radio. “It's 3:30, Dad!” Resting his hands on his hips, he blurted out with a huff, as if Christoph should have known already.
Laughing, Christoph shook his head and replied, “Not that clock! That clock is digital and doesn’t teach you how to tell time! Next time, I want to you use this!” He pulled out a watch from his pocket and handed it to Peter. “I saw this at a shop while I was away this last time. It kept speaking to me. Want to know what it said?” Peter’s eyes lit up, and he nodded vigorously. Christoph sat on a chair in the kitchen and pulled Peter closer to himself. He put the watch on his wrist, and quietly murmured into Peter’s ear, “It said, ‘I would like to be Peter’s watch. Get me for Peter.’”
Peter giggled, “No it didn’t Dad!”
“It didn’t? How do you know? You see Goofy right there. Maybe it was his voice I heard.” Peter looked intently at his new Goofy watch then he placed his ear on the face, ‘Tick, tick, tick’ was all he heard.
“I don’t hear Goofy Dad,” he whispered.
Christoph could not help but laugh. “Peter, where are Goofy’s hands pointing on the watch?”
Looking intently once again, Peter said, “The short-hand is between the three and the four, and the long one is on the seven.”
“So do you know what time that is?” Christoph asked.
Peter used his pointer finger from his right hand and began pointing at each number while counting by fives, “Five, ten, fifteen …” He counted to thirty-five, and then proudly announced, “Thirty-five minutes after three! Three thirty-five!”
“Good job, my man! Give me five!” He held his hand out waiting for Peter to slap his hand, which Peter took as an invitation to hit his hand hard. ‘Smack!’
“Well Peter, what this means is that dinner is closer now and having a big snack is probably out of the question, so, how’s about a small one? Hmm, let me think…Want to share an apple with me?” Peter nodded his head in affirmation. “Ok, go get me an apple, and I’ll cut it up for both of us.” Peter went to the refrigerator, opened the door, and picked the biggest reddest apple he could find. He walked to the sink, turned the cold water on, and began to wash the apple off. He then took his apple to the cutting board on the counter. “One second, Pete.” Christoph grabbed the sponge and spray cleaner and quickly sprayed the counter down. Then he set the cutting board down. “There we go! Let’s cut this.” Christoph cut up the apple into eighths. He put four in a bowl for Peter and put four in the second bowl for himself. Then he went to the refrigerator again grabbed the Peanut Butter and spooned out a big spoonful in his own bowl then offered Peter a spoonful. Peter nodded his head, affirming his desire for Peanut Butter.
As Peter began to eat his snack at the table, he began to wonder why his dad was so silly and happy. Shrugging it off to himself, he took another bite and stared at Goofy’s hands on his watch. Goofy was his favorite Disney character and was elated to have his favorite cartoon character on his wrist. His grin grew on his face as he put his apple down and wrapped his arms around his dad. “Thanks for the watch, Dad. I love it.” He kissed his dad on the cheek with a messy, Peanut Butter kiss.
They both laughed as Christoph wiped the Peanut Butter from his cheek. “You’re welcome, buddy… now go finish your snack before your mom comes out and notices that I’ve just spoiled your appetite.” Peter went back to eating his snack.
* * * * *
“Slam!” The screen door shut hard and tight at the front door. Peter jumped up startled at the sound. Christoph looked in the direction of the front door. Andrew ran through the door shouting, “Pete! Pete! Where are you?”
Peter waved his Peanut Butter covered hand, “In the kitchen!”
Andrew barreled through the house, excited to see Peter. “Dude! C’mon outside. We need another player for ‘Capture the Flag!’”
In all the excitement, Christoph stood up and reached for Andrew. “Hey, Andrew, don’t you say hi to your ol’ dad.”
“Oh... Hey Dad, when did you get home?” His excitement diminished a bit as he realized his father was home.
“Well, I’ve been home all day. I was working in my office today.”
Andrew stood there puzzled. He remembered when he came home, peeking through his father’s office doorway. “Hmm, I looked in your office when I came home. I didn’t see you there.” He shrugged his shoulders, believing perhaps that his father was just teasing him.
Christoph explained, “Well, I wasn’t in my office when you came home. I have been in there working all day, though. I had decided on a break for a bit when you boys came home. Eh, why am I explaining all this to you?” He smirked and then ruffled Andrew’s hair.
Andrew shrugged his shoulders and attempted to rake his mussed hair back into place. “I don’t know, just seems like you’re not around much anymore.”
Christoph began to feel guilty for being gone so much. His business had taken him away from his family more than he expected. Sitting there at the table, Christof tried to gather his thoughts, but he kept hearing Andrew’s words echo through his head. “Well, Andrew…” he lingered as he tried to formulate his thoughts. He took his bowl of apple slices and offered it to Andrew. “This new job I have may not be fun for the family, right now, but I hope that soon I can be home more often.” Christoph was not certain how much explanation he needed to ease his boys’ minds. Taking a moment longer, he then drummed his fingers on the table and gave Andrew a hug. “I’m sorry I’ve not been around. These last few weeks have been hard for me too.”
Andrew had become bitter. Standing there in his father’s embrace, he could not hug back. His feelings were hurt, and he was concerned for his mother’s loneliness, but he would not let his father know his thoughts. Not now, not yet. “Uh, yeah Dad, I got some friends waiting for me outside. We need to go. C’mon Pete.” He strode away from his dad, grabbed Peter by the arm and walked out the front door.”
“Hey, wait a sec!” Christoph shouted. “Be back in an hour to check in with your mom!”
“Yeah, yeah… Whatever.” Andrew waved his hand as if trying to erase a bad memory.
Christoph leaned against the kitchen doorjamb and let out a deep sigh. It was then he realized that he had some serious issues to deal with at home. It was as if his eyes opened from a dream and revealed the loss of his family. Yes, he still lived there. Yes, he was still married to the most beautiful woman he had ever met. Yes, he had two beautiful boys. But, to Christoph, it felt as if they no longer saw him as husband and father, but as a passer-by, a stranger, living in the same home, but not in their lives. So many things were different and distant. Yet because of his work, his choice was to ignore things at home until he could get his workload leveled out and under control. The only problem… his workload never did level out. He was continually working toward the next deadline, the next emergency, the next catastrophe.
Pulled from his thoughts, Christoph heard a loud crash, tinkle and then the cat screaming and hissing to the commotion outside. Christoph ran out the back door to investigate. As he exited the door, he spotted their grey cat, Schrödinger, scampering away from a pile of glass and hummingbird food on the ground. Schrödinger had apparently attempted to catch a hummingbird but missed terribly, knocking the feeder off its hook.
Christoph went back into the kitchen to find a broom. “Where the hell does she keep the broom?” He mumbled himself as he looked in every cupboard throughout the kitchen.
The bedroom door opened, drawing Christoph’s attention from his search. Laurel walked out the door and glanced up to see Christoph frustrated from rifling through the cupboards. “What’s up, babe? Did you lose something?” She grinned at him, knowing that he was out of his element there in the kitchen.
Christoph now flustered, answered, “I’m just looking for the broom! It seems Schrödinger has made a mess of the hummingbird feeder. I was going to sweep it up before you came out here.”
“Oh no! I loved that feeder. Darn that cat!” Reaching in the corner, next to the door, Laurel grabbed the broom and dustpan and began to walk out the door.
Christoph dashed to her side and grabbed the broom and dustpan from her hands. “Here, I can handle it!" He then continued out the door and began to sweep up the broken pieces of glass outside. She stood there, stunned that he had taken the tools swiftly and abruptly from her hands.
Laurel watched as Christoph swept through the sticky, syrupy mess. She found it appealing to watch him maneuver the mess into one pile and then bend to scoop it up into the dustpan. She tried to remember the last time she had seen Christoph clean up anything. She couldn't. As she stood there deep in her thoughts watching, it occurred to her that she could help by getting the garden hose to spray down the sticky mess.
Walking to the back of the house, Laurel untangled the garden hose, stretching it out so that she could use it where Christoph was working. She then returned to the spigot and turned the water on full blast. Laurel’s eyes widen as she watched the garden hose take on a life of its own, spraying water everywhere. Quickly, she ran to capture the nozzle end. The wild hose had sprayed and soaked her as she reached out to grab the sprayer. Disengaging the sprayer, Laurel stood there dripping wet and in shock. She looked up at Christoph who was rolling in laughter at her demise.
Not appreciating Christoph’s laughter, Laurel took the sprayer nozzle pointed it at him and squeezed the trigger firmly. “That’s for laughing at me!” She shouted at Christoph. The water found its target thoroughly soaking Christoph from head to toe. Christoph dropped the broom and ran toward Laurel as she continued to spray him.
Realizing that she had just drenched Christoph, Laurel let out a squeal and began laughing. She turned quickly and ran with the garden hose in tow, spraying him as she ran. Christoph pursued her until she ran out of hose. Then like a lion playing with its prey, he stalked closer to her, making sure she could not get away.
“You drenched me, you wicked minx! Why did you do that?” He asked, as his devious smile grew bigger on his face.
Laurel’s eyes grew big and round as she readied herself for another escape. “I didn’t mean to soak you!” She replied with a giggle, “I just meant to... uh… startle you. You laughed at me!”
“Seeing the look on your face after being hosed down by the ‘wild’ garden hose was pretty entertaining!” By now, Christoph was rolling in laughter as he reenacted what he saw only moments earlier.
Laurel feinted left then ran right in an attempt to dodge Christoph. Seeing her deceptive dodge, Christoph ran after her. “I swear… I’m going to get that hose and soak you down! We’ll see how you like that.” Christoph laughed maniacally with his threat. Finally, Christoph found his opportunity and cut across the yard. Leaping forward, he grabbed at Laurel, hooking his arms around her waist and tackling her to the ground. He finally reached out, grabbed the hose from her hands, and pointed the nozzle right at her.
“No! No! No! It was an accident!” Laurel squirmed and laughed as she tried to convince Christoph. “I. Am. So. Sorry.” She giggled and snorted trying to get the words out, “I was just trying to help you clean up!”
“Here let me help clean YOU up.” Christoph squeezed the sprayer, spraying Laurel all the way down her body. Laurel screamed at the cold water thoroughly drenching her fresh clothes. She guarded her face with her hands, hoping to keep the spray from getting in her eyes. She tried as hard as she could to wriggle free, but Christoph sat on her legs, pinning her to the ground.
Christoph saw that Laurel was covering her face from the spray. So, he took the opportunity, to swiftly and simultaneously grab her pants and the sprayer nozzle and spray the water into her pants. “Nooo!” Laurel screamed. “Chris! These are fresh clothes!”
By now, Laurel began to get upset. She had no place to go, was utterly helpless, and now entirely well soaked. All she could do was hit Christoph in the head with her hands. So, she began swinging. This was no longer fun!
One hit to the head and Christoph realized he had taken his fun too far. He tossed the sprayer nozzle away and held onto Laurel as she squirmed. He laid his head on her cold, wet stomach, trying to calm her down. Laurel grabbed two fists full of hair and pulled hard. “Whoa, baby! Easy Laurel! I’m sorry! Ouch!” He exclaimed. Freeing himself from her grasp, he rolled off her and let her up.
Just his weight removed from her legs helped Laurel to let go of all her pent-up anxiety and breathe. She jumped to her feet and looked squarely at Christoph not sure of what she wanted to say. She was so upset with what had happened. Standing there, she first put her hands on her hips. That felt wrong, so she fidgeted more and then crossed her arms in front of her. That was when she realized that there was a cool breeze blowing and she was freezing cold.
“Uh, baby? Are you ok?” Christoph cajoled. He reached out to touch her leg. “I’m sorry, baby.”
Lauren took a deep breath and let it out a loud blast of air. “Yes. I’ll be fine.” She stated. “I don’t like being pinned like that, I guess.”
“Come here.” He reached up to take her hand. Laurel took it and came back down to Christoph in the grass. He took her waist in his hands and drew her to him. “Let me try to warm you up.”
Laurel straddled Christoph’s hips and sat on him saying, “I’m not cold.”
Christoph looked up at Laurel. Her arms rippled with goosebumps from the cool blowing breeze. She wore a white t-shirt, which clung to her skin. Her tan skin showed through her wet t-shirt. Her nipples were visibly firm, her breasts round and tempting. He reached up cupping both breasts gently in his hands. He drew circles around her nipples with his thumbs, occasionally stroking over the tips. “You sure look cold to me.” He grinned. “Maybe you are just glad to see me.” He smirked. He reached inside her wet shirt and found her breasts once more. He continued rubbing and kneading her breasts. He took her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, pinching firmly and then starting all over again.
Each stroke, each squeeze, and each pinch caused Laurel’s breath to hitch. She could feel her breast harden more then they were from the cold. “Oooh, you naughty boy!” She exclaimed, pushing into the motions his hands made. The pleasure she felt caused her to rock on Christoph’s groin.
Leaning down to Christoph, Laurel’s lips found his. Her tongue searched to gain entrance into his mouth. She gently sucked in his lower lip and bit down. Christoph moaned. Laurel placed her hands in Christoph’s hair using it to pull her cold, wet, perky body across his chest. They kissed again. This time both gained access to the other. Their tongues danced together as their bodies began their telltale signs of desire.
“No, you call out to them!” Peter whispered to Andrew.
“No way! You call out to them. They won’t get mad at you!” Andrew said in a not so quiet voice.
Hearing the boys arguing, Christoph and Laurel snapped their heads up to see where the boys were. Using each other to cover their evidence of private behavior, Laurel smiled and said, “What’s up boys? Is there something you need?”
“Dad said to be back in an hour for dinner,” Andrew explained.
Laurel looked down to Christoph for an explanation. Christoph just shrugged. “Oops. I lost track of time I guess. Uh, let’s see… Could one of you go grab a towel for Mom? I think she’s cold.” He smirked at Laurel.
Peter replied, “I will, daddy. Be right back.” Off he ran through the back door, into the house. Within a minute or two, Peter ran out the door again, running toward Laurel and Christoph with a huge beach towel bunched up on his head. “Here you go, momma!”
Taking the towel, Laurel wrapped herself up and started for the house. Looking at Christoph, she grinned and said, “I guess I need to go get MORE dry clothes on. See you inside.” Off she strode.
Napkin Scrawls #19 -- Another Strange Dream
Burning my candle at both ends to try and get my work done, only makes for the strangest dreams in my head. Check this one out.
I lay down to take a nap for about an hour….
There is sand all around. Apparently, I’m sitting in a Saharan desert of sorts. Two friends and I were to clean out these round pottery pots that were dirty and some were full of sand. I was familiar with this job and had been doing it for a while. I knew that snakes could be in the pots, so I cautioned my friends to be careful.
Suddenly, I heard one friend scream loudly & I saw a pot fly though the air. She then ran after the pot, and took it into a corner with a stick or twig to do something with it. Finally, I ran over to check on her. She was shaking, her eyes were huge saucers, and she was scared shitless. I asked her what was wrong. She slowly brought out the stick and said, "I found a snake."
She brought the 'snake' into view for me to see. It was a centipede.
Looking at her I exclaimed, “That’s not a snake!”
Realizing they had no idea what a snake was, I went over to my truck, turned the engine on so that my laptop could have some juice. I googled snakes, and while adjusting my laptop for them to see, I some how shifted my truck into gear. It took off down the road, accelerating to full speed.
Suddenly, I'm on the wrong side of the freeway driving 75 mph into a construction zone that bottlenecks down to one lane! I’m panicked, trying to navigate through traffic that is coming at me, and hoping avoid a pile up in the single lane streaming with cars!
I fumbled with the accelerator and managed to get the truck slowed down. I moved over to the one open lane, and find that I can U-turn to go back on the freeway. However, I find that this too is the wrong side of the freeway to go home.
Just then, my alarm goes off and I realize this was yet another wild ride in my mind. Before I am able to awake fully, I realized that some how I had ended up on the correct side of the road.
I lay down to take a nap for about an hour….
There is sand all around. Apparently, I’m sitting in a Saharan desert of sorts. Two friends and I were to clean out these round pottery pots that were dirty and some were full of sand. I was familiar with this job and had been doing it for a while. I knew that snakes could be in the pots, so I cautioned my friends to be careful.
Suddenly, I heard one friend scream loudly & I saw a pot fly though the air. She then ran after the pot, and took it into a corner with a stick or twig to do something with it. Finally, I ran over to check on her. She was shaking, her eyes were huge saucers, and she was scared shitless. I asked her what was wrong. She slowly brought out the stick and said, "I found a snake."
She brought the 'snake' into view for me to see. It was a centipede.
Looking at her I exclaimed, “That’s not a snake!”
Realizing they had no idea what a snake was, I went over to my truck, turned the engine on so that my laptop could have some juice. I googled snakes, and while adjusting my laptop for them to see, I some how shifted my truck into gear. It took off down the road, accelerating to full speed.
Suddenly, I'm on the wrong side of the freeway driving 75 mph into a construction zone that bottlenecks down to one lane! I’m panicked, trying to navigate through traffic that is coming at me, and hoping avoid a pile up in the single lane streaming with cars!
I fumbled with the accelerator and managed to get the truck slowed down. I moved over to the one open lane, and find that I can U-turn to go back on the freeway. However, I find that this too is the wrong side of the freeway to go home.
Just then, my alarm goes off and I realize this was yet another wild ride in my mind. Before I am able to awake fully, I realized that some how I had ended up on the correct side of the road.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Napkin Scrawl #18 -- Desert Storms
Temperatures reach the triple digits on a daily basis. Today was no different. Taking time from my daily routine, I sit on the back porch admiring how quickly the angry black clouds moved in. A steady breeze blows the scent of rain across my face. I close my eyes and breathe in deeply.
The air becomes still as a loud crack and rumble reverberate through the sky. As I recline back in my chair with the soles of my feet against a supporting pillar, the thunder reminds me of its immense power as I feel the vibration through my feet.
Soon, sprinkles of fresh rain tickle the tops of my feet as it begins to fall. I curb the temptation to move from the porch to the center of my yard. The sprinkles that start to fall are refreshing, but, the danger of lightning still abounds. No flash appears, yet the sky grumbles and moans as if in pain or angry at lightning’s strike, ripping and tearing through it.
The breeze stops again before the sky moans and grumbles with one last roll of thunder. Deafening silence consumes the air again.
The storm moves further north, and as fast as it began, it ends. Blue skies peek from the angry clouds.
Lightning claws its way through the clouds and sky with thunder as its voice. “I’m not done!” It seems to scream. Just like the rest of the storm, it too vanishes and moves onward.
Maybe on another day, the rain will stay longer, washing the dirt and grime away.
The air becomes still as a loud crack and rumble reverberate through the sky. As I recline back in my chair with the soles of my feet against a supporting pillar, the thunder reminds me of its immense power as I feel the vibration through my feet.
Soon, sprinkles of fresh rain tickle the tops of my feet as it begins to fall. I curb the temptation to move from the porch to the center of my yard. The sprinkles that start to fall are refreshing, but, the danger of lightning still abounds. No flash appears, yet the sky grumbles and moans as if in pain or angry at lightning’s strike, ripping and tearing through it.
The breeze stops again before the sky moans and grumbles with one last roll of thunder. Deafening silence consumes the air again.
The storm moves further north, and as fast as it began, it ends. Blue skies peek from the angry clouds.
Lightning claws its way through the clouds and sky with thunder as its voice. “I’m not done!” It seems to scream. Just like the rest of the storm, it too vanishes and moves onward.
Maybe on another day, the rain will stay longer, washing the dirt and grime away.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Awakened - Chapter 2
Lost in the afterglow of the moment, the music on Laurel’s iPod changed. Nickelback played, “S.E.X.” Both started laughing as they listened to the explicit lyrics, which described the feelings they both felt at that very moment.
Laurel kissed Christoph then stroked his nose with her finger, “What brought this … surprise on?”
Christoph shrugged and replied, “Not sure exactly. I heard music from my office, so I decided to check it out. I saw you there dancing and swaying to the music, and was enjoying the scenery.”
“Hmm… I should turn it on more often!” Laurel smirked and snuggled closer.
“Mmm… The music or the scenery?” He snickered.
Shouts came from the front of the house, “Hey Mom! We’re home!”
Laurel looked at the clock and then at Christoph. “Uh, oops! School’s out.” Laurel squeaked. “They must have taken the school bus.” She shrugged.
Both giggled and snorted as Christoph grabbed pieces of his clothing from the floor and darted for their bedroom. Laurel slid off the counter, found her shredded panties and quietly whispered for Christoph, “Psst, Chris!” Christoph stopped, turned toward Laurel, and gave her an inquisitive look. Laurel laughed seeing Christoph with a bare ass and a pile of clothes covering his front. “Can you take these too?” She held up her torn panties, walked toward the front of the house, and handed them to him. Christoph looked at her panties, then at her and with a twinkle in his eye and a smirk on his face, took her panties between his teeth, and started toward the bedroom once again.
The kids came running to Laurel excited from their long day. Seeing them coming, Laurel stepped far enough into the next room to allow Christoph a clean getaway. Both kids grabbed their mom in a giant hug and greeted her with excitement.
“We looked for you Mom when school let out, but when we didn’t see you, we hopped on the bus,” her oldest son Andrew exclaimed.
“I’m glad you remembered what to do and took responsibility to get it done. Great job, son.” She patted the boys on the back. “Now, let’s make sure you put your stuff away and then you can go outside and play for a little while. Then we will see what you have for homework. How does that sound?” Both boys were excited to hear that they could play first then do their homework. They ran off to their rooms to deposit their book packs, and quickly ran back outside to play.
Laurel made sure they were gone before she turned to head back to her bedroom. On her way through the kitchen, she grabbed her iPod. “Maybe I can play this in our bedroom,” She thought to herself as she opened her bedroom door.
Walking into the bedroom, she saw Christoph lying on their bed, completely naked, still holding her shredded panties in his teeth. Propped up on his right side, he watched her reaction as she walked in the door. Laurel giggled loudly at the sight of her panties still between his teeth. It was not as if Laurel had never seen her husband in the buff before, but after what had just occurred earlier, she found herself blushing. “Mmm, he looks so yummy lying there.” She thought to herself as she smiled deviously. “It would be nice to have more of that!”
Closing and locking the door, Laurel walked over to her dresser on the other side of the room. She reached in her drawer for another pair of panties. As she began to put them on, Christoph sat up and whispered, “Hey baby, come over here and sit next to me.”
Laurel giggled coyly, “I have to finish the dishes, and the kids are home now.”
“So! Do the dishes later. The kids will be fine. They are outside playing, right?” Christoph held out his hand for hers. She walked over and took his hand. Christoph tugged Laurel closer to himself. As Laurel moved close enough to him, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down to him. She giggled and followed his motion by straddling him. She sat on his lap, leaned down, and kissed him passionately on his lips. Her tongue searched for entrance into his mouth. Feeling her tongue brush his lips, he opened his mouth and allowed the kiss to deepen.
“Mmm… Now that is nice,” Christoph spoke as they ended their kiss. Laurel leaned in again, this time kissing his neck and coming back up to his mouth once more, then slowly back down the other side of his neck. She began to rock her hips as she leaned back to kiss more deeply. The taste of each other lingered on their lips. Each kiss screamed for another. Laurel sucked his bottom lip into hers and bit down gently. “Ooh, feisty! I love when you’re feisty” Christoph responded in kind, playing at her lips.
Reaching his hand between her legs, Christoph ran his thumb over her opening and up over her clit. Laurel gasped. Closing her eyes, she began to push herself into him. She looked down into his eyes, “Mmm, you naughty boy… what are you up to? I thought you just wanted to, um talk.” He gently rubbed her clit again, this time pressing his thumb into her opening.
She licked her lips and leaned down to kiss his chest. She ventured a trail of kisses down his abdomen stopping at his navel to indulge her tongue. Christoph whimpered as she ran her tongue down his treasure trail, only to retrace her path back to his chest. Finding his nipple, she gently bit down. Christoph moaned, feeling the sharpness of her teeth on his skin. Again, he stroked her nub with his thumb, and then gently he pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. “You like that huh?” Christoph murmured as he stroked her again. Feeling how wet she was he slowly pushed one finger through her opening, drawing it out back to stroke her again. He enjoyed watching his wife as he stroked her, bringing her closer to climax.
“Oooh, Yes!” she panted as she now began to grind herself into Christoph.
Christoph pulled his hand away, grinning, “Oh then maybe I should stop?” He teased her now, waiting to see what she would do.
“Oooh, noo! Don’t stop!” Laurel made a pouty face, whined, but kept grinding into Christoph’s now growing manhood. “Now that’s more like it.” She grinned when she felt him growing hard.
Christoph reached around and untied Laurel’s dress. Laurel pulled it over her head and discarded it. While she was removing her dress, she felt Christoph running his hands up her stomach to her breasts then back down. Feeling his touch on her skin made her skin tingle. As her nipples harden, Christoph sat up and began to kiss her breasts. He wrapped his arms around her waist, took her nipple into his mouth, and sucked.
Laurel’s breath hitched, and she began to gyrate in his lap. Running her fingers through his hair, she grabbed two handfuls of his tresses and yanked his head back. Christoph winced in pain, but the pain turned him on more. He dug his nails into her ass as he began to pull her toward himself and grind his manhood over her opening. She moaned and pushed him back onto his back, then leaned into his face and found his mouth with hers. Her tongue found his as their kiss deepened once more. He moaned into her mouth as her breasts pushed into his chest, as she continued to gyrate and grind on his lap.
Christoph grabbed her hips, pushed her up, and guided her onto his thick hard erection. Laurel let out a loud moan as she felt him enter her opening. She began to grind herself harder as he pushed up into her core. Christoph loved to watch Laurel come when she was on top, but this time he was feeling more aggressive. He grabbed her once again; this time flipped her on her back and began to drive harder until they both came together.
Christoph collapsed on Laurel. Both were exhausted and covered in sweat. Once Laurel could catch her breath, she said, “Wow! That was awesome! What came over you, babe? You were an animal!” She giggled as Christoph rolled off her and onto one side. He lightly ran his fingers over her nipples as the perspiration began to pool between her breasts.
He leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips, “I’ve missed you. Watching you reminds me of how much I miss you. Plus, you are so sexy, baby. You really turn me on!”
Laurel cuddled next to Christoph, but his words struck a chord in her mind. Her thoughts took over as she began wondering why today was so different. Laurel had started to worry that their marriage had become so predictable and boring. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was the reason for the monotony in their relationship. Sex seemed only to happen on weekends because during the week one or the other was just too busy or too tired. This was a highly unusual circumstance. She wanted to ask him why the change, but was afraid she would erase the euphoric bubble they were in. She kept it to herself. “Perhaps we’ll talk later.” She thought to herself.
Hearing a knock at the door drew Laurel back from her inner monologue. “Momma, can I come in? It’s me, Peter.” Peter was their youngest son. He was soon to be 9 years old but still kept the role of the baby in the family. He was such a momma’s boy at times. Sometimes, his dependency drove Laurel nuts, like now when she really wanted to lay there next to Christoph and snuggle.
“NO!” Both Christoph and Laurel answered together. Then they laughed at each other’s response. They trusted that Peter wouldn’t open the door, but just in case, Laurel answered, “Sweetie, we’ll be out in a little bit. I’m going to get some dinner together in a little while. Okay?”
“Um, okay, but why are you in your room?” Peter asked. Laurel looked to Christoph and stifled a giggle. Christoph pulled her into his embrace and held her close.
Christoph spoke loudly, “Hey, Pete, we’re resting right now. I’ll be out in a little bit to help you. I think momma has some stuff she needs to do in here. Now, go on and get your homework done. Okay?”
“Okay, Dad,” Peter answered. “I’m hungry though.”
“Okay, be there in a little bit,” Christoph repeated.
He leaned in and kissed Laurel on the lips, then whispered softly, “Why don’t you take a little nap, or take a nice soak in the tub. I’ll take care of the boys. Then we can make some dinner together.” Laurel looked completely surprised. “What?" Christoph asked with a smirk on his face. "You don’t think I can manage?”
“Um, no. It’s not that,” Laurel began. “It’s just unexpected. Um, thank you, but maybe I’ll just take a quick shower and then make some dinner.”
“Okay my love, if you insist. I’ll see you soon.” Christoph kissed Laurel once more, then got out of bed and put on his pants. Walking to the dresser, he grabbed a black t-shirt out of the drawer and pulled it over his head. The t-shirt fit his chest snuggly, which brought a grin to Laurel’s face. Christoph has such a lovely physique. Laurel never tired of watching him.
With that, Christoph blew Laurel a kiss and walked out the door.
Laurel lay there on the bed a little longer, enjoying the quiet, peaceful moment. Her thoughts went back to the incredible sex they had just experienced, not only once, but twice. She tried to remember the last time they climaxed twice in one night together. It was so uncommon any more. She had a tough time recalling. She then decided it must have been the first few years of their marriage because ever since the boys were born, they had to plan around their boys’ sleep schedules. This made everything more predictable and less spontaneous. She found she really like surprises like this.
Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, she decided it was time to get showered and start her night time routine. She headed into the bathroom and turned the shower on to let the water heat up. Looking into the mirror, she saw her hair in its matted, bed head mess, and giggled. “I guess it’s a good thing he went to help the kids and not me.”
Shaking her head as she stared in the mirror, she kept reminiscing to herself about fantastically giddy she felt. “Damn, the sex was fantastic!” The words rang out, but could not nearly describe her giddiness and satisfaction she now felt as she stood there staring into the mirror. With a huge grin on her face, she found herself wishing this could happen more often.
Turning to the shower, she stepped in and immersed herself under the stream of warm water. “Ah, this is wonderful,” she said, as she stood, soaking in the hot steamy shower. Leaning against the shower wall, she let the water stream down her body. The rivulets of water washed over her skin, causing her skin to goosebump at first. Soon, it began to soothe and relax allowing her mind to begin racing again with thoughts of “why” and “what is different.” As she began to lather her hair, she started wondering if she should talk with Christoph. At the very least, maybe she should ring her girlfriend on the phone and see what her opinion would be. She giggled at the thought of calling her friend. Even though she felt seriously concerned, she still felt that ‘schoolgirl’ hype that made all girls want to share about the new boy they had a crush on.
Rinsing off and finishing her shower, she thought the wiser and decided this time, she would see how the night and days to come carried on. “Perhaps this is just random,” she thought to herself, “No need to get all paranoid.”
Laurel kissed Christoph then stroked his nose with her finger, “What brought this … surprise on?”
Christoph shrugged and replied, “Not sure exactly. I heard music from my office, so I decided to check it out. I saw you there dancing and swaying to the music, and was enjoying the scenery.”
“Hmm… I should turn it on more often!” Laurel smirked and snuggled closer.
“Mmm… The music or the scenery?” He snickered.
Shouts came from the front of the house, “Hey Mom! We’re home!”
Laurel looked at the clock and then at Christoph. “Uh, oops! School’s out.” Laurel squeaked. “They must have taken the school bus.” She shrugged.
Both giggled and snorted as Christoph grabbed pieces of his clothing from the floor and darted for their bedroom. Laurel slid off the counter, found her shredded panties and quietly whispered for Christoph, “Psst, Chris!” Christoph stopped, turned toward Laurel, and gave her an inquisitive look. Laurel laughed seeing Christoph with a bare ass and a pile of clothes covering his front. “Can you take these too?” She held up her torn panties, walked toward the front of the house, and handed them to him. Christoph looked at her panties, then at her and with a twinkle in his eye and a smirk on his face, took her panties between his teeth, and started toward the bedroom once again.
The kids came running to Laurel excited from their long day. Seeing them coming, Laurel stepped far enough into the next room to allow Christoph a clean getaway. Both kids grabbed their mom in a giant hug and greeted her with excitement.
“We looked for you Mom when school let out, but when we didn’t see you, we hopped on the bus,” her oldest son Andrew exclaimed.
“I’m glad you remembered what to do and took responsibility to get it done. Great job, son.” She patted the boys on the back. “Now, let’s make sure you put your stuff away and then you can go outside and play for a little while. Then we will see what you have for homework. How does that sound?” Both boys were excited to hear that they could play first then do their homework. They ran off to their rooms to deposit their book packs, and quickly ran back outside to play.
Laurel made sure they were gone before she turned to head back to her bedroom. On her way through the kitchen, she grabbed her iPod. “Maybe I can play this in our bedroom,” She thought to herself as she opened her bedroom door.
Walking into the bedroom, she saw Christoph lying on their bed, completely naked, still holding her shredded panties in his teeth. Propped up on his right side, he watched her reaction as she walked in the door. Laurel giggled loudly at the sight of her panties still between his teeth. It was not as if Laurel had never seen her husband in the buff before, but after what had just occurred earlier, she found herself blushing. “Mmm, he looks so yummy lying there.” She thought to herself as she smiled deviously. “It would be nice to have more of that!”
Closing and locking the door, Laurel walked over to her dresser on the other side of the room. She reached in her drawer for another pair of panties. As she began to put them on, Christoph sat up and whispered, “Hey baby, come over here and sit next to me.”
Laurel giggled coyly, “I have to finish the dishes, and the kids are home now.”
“So! Do the dishes later. The kids will be fine. They are outside playing, right?” Christoph held out his hand for hers. She walked over and took his hand. Christoph tugged Laurel closer to himself. As Laurel moved close enough to him, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down to him. She giggled and followed his motion by straddling him. She sat on his lap, leaned down, and kissed him passionately on his lips. Her tongue searched for entrance into his mouth. Feeling her tongue brush his lips, he opened his mouth and allowed the kiss to deepen.
“Mmm… Now that is nice,” Christoph spoke as they ended their kiss. Laurel leaned in again, this time kissing his neck and coming back up to his mouth once more, then slowly back down the other side of his neck. She began to rock her hips as she leaned back to kiss more deeply. The taste of each other lingered on their lips. Each kiss screamed for another. Laurel sucked his bottom lip into hers and bit down gently. “Ooh, feisty! I love when you’re feisty” Christoph responded in kind, playing at her lips.
Reaching his hand between her legs, Christoph ran his thumb over her opening and up over her clit. Laurel gasped. Closing her eyes, she began to push herself into him. She looked down into his eyes, “Mmm, you naughty boy… what are you up to? I thought you just wanted to, um talk.” He gently rubbed her clit again, this time pressing his thumb into her opening.
She licked her lips and leaned down to kiss his chest. She ventured a trail of kisses down his abdomen stopping at his navel to indulge her tongue. Christoph whimpered as she ran her tongue down his treasure trail, only to retrace her path back to his chest. Finding his nipple, she gently bit down. Christoph moaned, feeling the sharpness of her teeth on his skin. Again, he stroked her nub with his thumb, and then gently he pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. “You like that huh?” Christoph murmured as he stroked her again. Feeling how wet she was he slowly pushed one finger through her opening, drawing it out back to stroke her again. He enjoyed watching his wife as he stroked her, bringing her closer to climax.
“Oooh, Yes!” she panted as she now began to grind herself into Christoph.
Christoph pulled his hand away, grinning, “Oh then maybe I should stop?” He teased her now, waiting to see what she would do.
“Oooh, noo! Don’t stop!” Laurel made a pouty face, whined, but kept grinding into Christoph’s now growing manhood. “Now that’s more like it.” She grinned when she felt him growing hard.
Christoph reached around and untied Laurel’s dress. Laurel pulled it over her head and discarded it. While she was removing her dress, she felt Christoph running his hands up her stomach to her breasts then back down. Feeling his touch on her skin made her skin tingle. As her nipples harden, Christoph sat up and began to kiss her breasts. He wrapped his arms around her waist, took her nipple into his mouth, and sucked.
Laurel’s breath hitched, and she began to gyrate in his lap. Running her fingers through his hair, she grabbed two handfuls of his tresses and yanked his head back. Christoph winced in pain, but the pain turned him on more. He dug his nails into her ass as he began to pull her toward himself and grind his manhood over her opening. She moaned and pushed him back onto his back, then leaned into his face and found his mouth with hers. Her tongue found his as their kiss deepened once more. He moaned into her mouth as her breasts pushed into his chest, as she continued to gyrate and grind on his lap.
Christoph grabbed her hips, pushed her up, and guided her onto his thick hard erection. Laurel let out a loud moan as she felt him enter her opening. She began to grind herself harder as he pushed up into her core. Christoph loved to watch Laurel come when she was on top, but this time he was feeling more aggressive. He grabbed her once again; this time flipped her on her back and began to drive harder until they both came together.
Christoph collapsed on Laurel. Both were exhausted and covered in sweat. Once Laurel could catch her breath, she said, “Wow! That was awesome! What came over you, babe? You were an animal!” She giggled as Christoph rolled off her and onto one side. He lightly ran his fingers over her nipples as the perspiration began to pool between her breasts.
He leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips, “I’ve missed you. Watching you reminds me of how much I miss you. Plus, you are so sexy, baby. You really turn me on!”
Laurel cuddled next to Christoph, but his words struck a chord in her mind. Her thoughts took over as she began wondering why today was so different. Laurel had started to worry that their marriage had become so predictable and boring. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was the reason for the monotony in their relationship. Sex seemed only to happen on weekends because during the week one or the other was just too busy or too tired. This was a highly unusual circumstance. She wanted to ask him why the change, but was afraid she would erase the euphoric bubble they were in. She kept it to herself. “Perhaps we’ll talk later.” She thought to herself.
Hearing a knock at the door drew Laurel back from her inner monologue. “Momma, can I come in? It’s me, Peter.” Peter was their youngest son. He was soon to be 9 years old but still kept the role of the baby in the family. He was such a momma’s boy at times. Sometimes, his dependency drove Laurel nuts, like now when she really wanted to lay there next to Christoph and snuggle.
“NO!” Both Christoph and Laurel answered together. Then they laughed at each other’s response. They trusted that Peter wouldn’t open the door, but just in case, Laurel answered, “Sweetie, we’ll be out in a little bit. I’m going to get some dinner together in a little while. Okay?”
“Um, okay, but why are you in your room?” Peter asked. Laurel looked to Christoph and stifled a giggle. Christoph pulled her into his embrace and held her close.
Christoph spoke loudly, “Hey, Pete, we’re resting right now. I’ll be out in a little bit to help you. I think momma has some stuff she needs to do in here. Now, go on and get your homework done. Okay?”
“Okay, Dad,” Peter answered. “I’m hungry though.”
“Okay, be there in a little bit,” Christoph repeated.
He leaned in and kissed Laurel on the lips, then whispered softly, “Why don’t you take a little nap, or take a nice soak in the tub. I’ll take care of the boys. Then we can make some dinner together.” Laurel looked completely surprised. “What?" Christoph asked with a smirk on his face. "You don’t think I can manage?”
“Um, no. It’s not that,” Laurel began. “It’s just unexpected. Um, thank you, but maybe I’ll just take a quick shower and then make some dinner.”
“Okay my love, if you insist. I’ll see you soon.” Christoph kissed Laurel once more, then got out of bed and put on his pants. Walking to the dresser, he grabbed a black t-shirt out of the drawer and pulled it over his head. The t-shirt fit his chest snuggly, which brought a grin to Laurel’s face. Christoph has such a lovely physique. Laurel never tired of watching him.
With that, Christoph blew Laurel a kiss and walked out the door.
Laurel lay there on the bed a little longer, enjoying the quiet, peaceful moment. Her thoughts went back to the incredible sex they had just experienced, not only once, but twice. She tried to remember the last time they climaxed twice in one night together. It was so uncommon any more. She had a tough time recalling. She then decided it must have been the first few years of their marriage because ever since the boys were born, they had to plan around their boys’ sleep schedules. This made everything more predictable and less spontaneous. She found she really like surprises like this.
Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, she decided it was time to get showered and start her night time routine. She headed into the bathroom and turned the shower on to let the water heat up. Looking into the mirror, she saw her hair in its matted, bed head mess, and giggled. “I guess it’s a good thing he went to help the kids and not me.”
Shaking her head as she stared in the mirror, she kept reminiscing to herself about fantastically giddy she felt. “Damn, the sex was fantastic!” The words rang out, but could not nearly describe her giddiness and satisfaction she now felt as she stood there staring into the mirror. With a huge grin on her face, she found herself wishing this could happen more often.
Turning to the shower, she stepped in and immersed herself under the stream of warm water. “Ah, this is wonderful,” she said, as she stood, soaking in the hot steamy shower. Leaning against the shower wall, she let the water stream down her body. The rivulets of water washed over her skin, causing her skin to goosebump at first. Soon, it began to soothe and relax allowing her mind to begin racing again with thoughts of “why” and “what is different.” As she began to lather her hair, she started wondering if she should talk with Christoph. At the very least, maybe she should ring her girlfriend on the phone and see what her opinion would be. She giggled at the thought of calling her friend. Even though she felt seriously concerned, she still felt that ‘schoolgirl’ hype that made all girls want to share about the new boy they had a crush on.
Rinsing off and finishing her shower, she thought the wiser and decided this time, she would see how the night and days to come carried on. “Perhaps this is just random,” she thought to herself, “No need to get all paranoid.”
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Napkin Scrawl #17 -- Barreling down the Road...
Stretched out and fast asleep in the back of my SUV, I’ve set the autopilot for my destination. “Ah,” I think to myself, “I’m so exhausted. I’ll just curl up in the back here and sleep and still have plenty of time to get where I need to be.”
The vibration and motion my SUV makes me sleep peacefully as I’m taken to my final destination. Turning over, I stretch. My dog is at my side, snoozing right along with me. I hear no noise, just nice and smooth travel whilst I sleep.
“Huh? Wait! Where am I?” Looking out the SUV windows, I see my SUV has jumped the median. I’m speeding along at 70 m.p.h. crossing both sides of the freeway. “Oh, Shit!” I shout aloud. Commando crawling from the back of the SUV toward the front, I begin to panic. Shaking off the sleep, I come to my senses, “What the fuck was I thinking! Calm down… calm down…”
The crawl is hard to do in a bouncing SUV. I’m still barreling forward at high speed. ‘Thump, thump, thump.’ The SUV is back on the freeway on the correct side… I sigh deeply. Squeezing between the front seats, I grab the steering wheel. I swerve erratically through the lanes as I try to get the last bit of my legs through the seats.
Finally, I have accomplished my crawl from the back and am sitting in the driver’s seat. I realize there is no autopilot. “Crap! I need to keep going! I hope no cops saw me.”
‘Beep, beep, beep.’ ‘Beep, beep, beep’
“Huh?” I glance up and realize my phone is going off. I pick it up to answer, “Oh, shit! Wow! It’s only a dream!”
The vibration and motion my SUV makes me sleep peacefully as I’m taken to my final destination. Turning over, I stretch. My dog is at my side, snoozing right along with me. I hear no noise, just nice and smooth travel whilst I sleep.
“Huh? Wait! Where am I?” Looking out the SUV windows, I see my SUV has jumped the median. I’m speeding along at 70 m.p.h. crossing both sides of the freeway. “Oh, Shit!” I shout aloud. Commando crawling from the back of the SUV toward the front, I begin to panic. Shaking off the sleep, I come to my senses, “What the fuck was I thinking! Calm down… calm down…”
The crawl is hard to do in a bouncing SUV. I’m still barreling forward at high speed. ‘Thump, thump, thump.’ The SUV is back on the freeway on the correct side… I sigh deeply. Squeezing between the front seats, I grab the steering wheel. I swerve erratically through the lanes as I try to get the last bit of my legs through the seats.
Finally, I have accomplished my crawl from the back and am sitting in the driver’s seat. I realize there is no autopilot. “Crap! I need to keep going! I hope no cops saw me.”
‘Beep, beep, beep.’ ‘Beep, beep, beep’
“Huh?” I glance up and realize my phone is going off. I pick it up to answer, “Oh, shit! Wow! It’s only a dream!”
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