Dead Men Talking

Photo courtesy of Magpie Tales

It is about midnight on All Hallows Eve...we hear Artie telling about how he came to be...

"Dead, I tell you, I'm dead, deceased, departed life, moved on.  Well, not exactly moved on.  You wanna know why I haven't moved on?  I'll tell ya why.  I was killed, offed, whacked, 86'd, took a swim in cement shoes.  You know...MURDERED!"

"How", asked the man on the next stool?

"OK, here's how it went down.  I was taking my share of our "business" profits, and Louie, my "associate", said I was stealing, that I was taking more than my share.  Now, I'm out there busting my chops, taking all the chances, cleaning things up, and I only get 30%.  I just took what I had coming to me, and he said "oh yeah, well now you're really gonna get what's coming to ya."

The kicker is that when he said he needed to discuss a little problem we were having, I thought he'd found out about Claire and me...Claire is his old lady.  I opened my big mouth to deny the affair, and he said, "Artie, Artie, Artie, I wouldn't kill you for that.  Now, stealing from me...that's different.  So he pulls out his 45 and bang, lights out.  He dumps my body into a ravine, where I was torn to shreds by wild animals.  My sister couldn't even identify my body."

Now Artie looks at the guy who had been quietly listening to his story.  "So what's your deal?"

"The name's Sam, and I'm dead, too." came the hoarse reply.

"Yeah?  How'd you go?"

"I was poisoned by my wife for cheating on her with Gina, my cousin's wife, and then strangled by my cousin for the same offense.  Who could blame me?  She was quite the little firecracker."

"Sam, your Gina..she have flaming red hair...sea green eyes?'"

"Yeah, why?"

"It's a good thing you're already dead, or I'd kill you myself.  She's my sister."

"Hey, sorry man!  I've got a sister, too.  Uh oh, it's almost dawn, I'd better be getting back to my grave.  Til next year..."


A work of fiction for Magpie Tales.

A New Season

Around us leaves begin to fall
Paying heed to winter's call
Shades of gold and red and green
Play their parts in nature's scene.

Another season draws to a close
Captured elegantly in poem or prose
And puts a smile upon our face
As each new season we embrace

Written for One Shot Wednesday

Quote of the Week

It's that time of year again!

Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.  

- Author Unknown

While we can't rewrite the past, we are the authors of our future.

A Day at the Beach

Beach at Ft. DeSoto

Sunlight glitters brilliantly on the calm waters of the Gulf.  Clear skies fill with birds, planes and parasailors.  It is still summer on the beach; umbrellas sprout like multicolored flowers across the sand.  Boats dot the horizon, fishing, sailing, working, relaxing.  Every day is a vacation, every night is a party.  Life's short, enjoy yourself.

Flash Friday 55

Blogging Categories: Where do you fall?

Photo credit: Michel Wal

We've come a long way from the ancient tablets where there ideas were carved into stone, and only those  present could view it.  Today our words go out to the entire world with the click of a key.  

Creative Writing bloggers showcase their talent by putting words together to draw us into a story created from their own imagination, be it prose or poetry.  Examples can be found on Magpie Tales and One Shot Wednesday Poetry, to name a few.  I sort of stumbled into this type of writing at a time when I wanted to add new life into my own blog.

Photography bloggers focus not on the written word, but rather how life is seen through the eye of the camera.  Beautiful pictures take us around the world season by season showing what many of us would otherwise never see.

Bloggers who Teach know that while anyone can create a blog and start writing, it isn't as cut and dried as that.  More experienced writers, and those with a lot of natural talent may fare just fine.  For everyone else, there are those who teach about how to get readers, get comments, pinpoint our target audience, determine the tone of our blog, find our niche, and more.

So the question is this, which of these categories do you fall into?  Does your blog blur the style lines?  What, if anything, would you change if you could have a do over, and what's stopping you?

Quote of the Week

Photo Credit:  Ian Britton

There are two ways of spreading light; to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.  - Edith Wharton

The candle - One whose goodness and light shines brightly for all to see.

The mirror - Someone in whom we see the light of others echoed in his actions.

 Which one are you? 

Not Like Everyone Else

Lilac, one of Mom's favorite flowers

Mom once said "she's not like everyone else" about me, and I guess it's true. But what she didn't say was that she wasn't like everyone else either, and neither was Daddy.  They were very special people with no limit on their love or generosity.  I'm so blessed that these two people were my parents.

Flash Friday 55

Wine and Llamas

Last Sunday, Kevin and Ashley went wine tasting with us.  It was our first visit to the Divine Llama Vineyard, and it was lots of fun.  The tasting room is the property's original farmhouse.  Before it was restored, it was in such bad condition that the fire department refused to burn it down, so they chose to restore it instead.  The place is gorgeous, with a large front porch overlooking the vineyard.  They share the property with llamas, miniature horses, a miniature burro, several dogs, and cats and some 30 chickens.  Some of their wines are named after their llamas, who are raised as pets, and show animals only.

It truly is a farm, with what looked like several acres of some type of beans out back.  From their house, just down the gravel drive, they have a great view of Pilot Mountain from every window.

We tasted their array of wines, and they were all very good.  The last two in the lineup were slightly sweet, and not so much to my liking, but were still good wines.

At Divine Llama, they grow Chardonnay, Chardonel, Traminette, Merlot, and Cabernet Franc.  The first three were dry white wines, and my favorites.  The wines in North Carolina have come a long ways since we began tasting them five years ago.

We noticed as we drove in that there were still grapes hanging on the vines, so I asked if they had completed their harvest.  She said they had and the remaining grapes were left for the birds, etc.  The reason being that if they used all the grapes they would have  more wine than they could bottle and sell before the next harvest.  They produce about 12,000 bottles per year.  From my taste experience, I would think that soon they should be able to sell all they could bottle.

Quote of the Week

Preconceived notions are the locks on the door to wisdom. - Merry Browne

Deeply rooted opinions, formed through prejudice or lack of evidence, may block one's path to a greater understanding of the human experience.

The End Of The Line

End Bahnof, two small words with big meaning.  Picture this:  Two people... foreign country...with little knowledge of the language, but they didn't let that stop them.  They hopped the train into the city to go sightseeing and visit the zoo.  After a fun afternoon, and feeling quite proud of themselves, they boarded the train to return to their hotel.  Theirs was the last stop and so they waited.  End Bahnof came and went and still they sat...waiting for their stop...until...  The train finally came to a stop...in something like a tunnel, dark and deserted.  

photo credit: wikipedia

Concerned?  Yes.  Scared?  A little.  After what seemed like hours, but probably more like 15-20 minutes, the train started moving again.  When the doors opened again at the "first stop", they got off, in the face of all those people waiting to get on.  What do you suppose those people were thinking?  The train was supposed to be empty. 

Who were those people, you ask?  Why, that would be me and my hubby, of course, in Germany, back a dozen or so years, and after sitting in what was probably a turnaround, we'll never forget the importance of End Bahnof. (Translation - end railway station, or the end of the line).

Quote of the Week

Photo credit  wikimedia

Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced. 

- James Baldwin

Maybe you cannot change everything in your life that you'd like, but unless you meet those things head on, it is guaranteed you won't change anything.

It's a Cat's Life

Cats in sprawling repose
Or curled up nose to nose
Sleeping the day away
Dreaming of a day at play
Rolling, blinking, unseeing eyes
A whimper and a heavy sigh
A big stretch, blink and stare
Stretch again and rise with flair
Wander out for a snack
Then slowly wander back

To start over again

Written for Flash Friday 55

Quote of the Week

Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant.  

- Robert Louis Stevenson

The value of today does not lie in what you have accumulated, but how well you have planned for tomorrow.

Eau du Dimestore

On a recent flight to Rome to join my fiancé and meet his parents, I was seated next to a glamorous woman, with diamonds studding her ears, and a pear-shaped pendant dangling at her throat.  Elegant aqua sleeves peeked from beneath her designer jacket.  I figured her to be a model or something, she was so gorgeous.  And her cologne, my goodness, was like romance in a bottle.  Just one whiff and I was transported to a tropical island paradise of palm trees swaying in the sultry breezes of the Mediterranean.

I was only here because I'd received a last minute upgrade to first class, which definitely had its perks.  I had a long flight ahead, and decided a glass of bubbly was just the thing to relax with.  Plus, now I was dying to know what her cologne was.  Maybe I could work it into the customary chit chat of a long flight.  Somehow it just didn't seem right to start with "Excuse me, but what is that delectable cologne you're wearing"? So instead I tried this, "Hi, I'm Charlotte.  That is a lovely pendant."  "Grazie", she replied, touching the diamond, "I am Carlotta.  I believe we have something in common.  Carlotta is the Italian equivalent of Charlotte." 

We talked about the places we'd been, but mostly she talked about the places she'd been.  I was totally in awe of this woman.  She was educated, well-traveled, and apparently wealthy to boot.  I would have felt rather insignificant in her company, had it not been for her completely down home personality.  She was returning home to Italy from a business meeting in the States.  She was, in fact, the granddaughter of the founder of the famous perfume factory, Acqua di Parma, in Parma, Italy and was working in the marketing and promotions department.  Now I could ask her about her cologne, although I had pretty much guessed what it had to be.  "That would be Acqua di Parma you're wearing, isn't it?  "Sì", she answered with pride.

Photo courtesy of Magpie Tales

"I've heard of it, such a marvelous fragrance, but at nearly $50 an ounce, I think I'll be wearing Eau du Dimestore for a while yet."

"No, non possiamo avere che" she exclaimed, dismayed that I would be wearing anything less than the finest cologne, the symbol of Italian elegance.  "Here mio caro, I carry these to present to the wives of our business partners", as she reached into her travel bag and pulled out two small bottles.  I stifled a squeal of delight as I thanked her profusely. "Nettare di Dio", she whispered quietly, as the flight attendant brought two more glasses of champagne.  "What a way to fly", I sighed, leaning back and sipping my champagne.

A work of fiction written for Magpie Tales #33

Shades of Summer

Although it is the first day of Autumn, and Summer has officially drawn to a close, we are still feeling the heat from another 90-degree day.  It seems Autumn is just another word in our neck of the woods today. 

Basking in the summer sun

Watching butterflies one by one

Flitting here and alighting there

Of my presence unaware

Beneath the yellow poplar tree

Here I sit, myself and me

The sky above is clear and blue

Nary a trace of morning dew

Though the sun bears summer’s heat

With pavement hot upon my feet

The dappled shade brings signs of fall

Clearly heard in the crickets’ call

Ten Things I Have Learned From Blogging: Anniversary Edition

Photo Credit:  nImA Destiny

In celebration of  Roses to Rainbows' first year in the blogosphere, I would like to share with you some of the things I have learned and people I've met.

1.  Getting comments.  After six months of the occasional visitor and no comments, I decided to look for help.  An internet search landed me on Barbara Swafford's Blogging Without a Blog.  She taught me the importance of reading and commenting on fellow bloggers' posts.  This is one of the most valuable lessons I learned, and led me to eventually write on the value of comments.

2.  A new type of pen pal.  In years past, a pen pal was someone with whom you exchanged written letters, but probably had never met.  Nowadays, with the popularity of the internet, the pen pal has changed.  The computer screen has replaced stationery, and the keyboard has replaced the pen.  We frequently exchange thoughts with people we haven't met; does this make us pen pals?

3.  People will give you things.  I got a lovely purple pen from my friend Margaret at Nanny Goats in Panties, that I use to rough out some of my posts.  She mentioned it in one of her posts, and I asked if she was selling them.  "No, but I'll send you one."  Thanks Margaret.

4.  Writing can be fun.  I discovered Magpie Tales, a blog dedicated to creative writing.  Willow, from Life at Willow Manor, posts a picture prompt every week, and writers from all around the world participate with original short stories and poetry.

5.  Writing can be frustrating.  There are also hours...days even...that you sit and stare at a blank screen or sheet of paper waiting for the right words to come along and bail your bloggy butt out of writing purgatory.  Here are my tips for beating writer's block.

6.  Bloggers form support groups.  Tribal Blogs is a network for serious bloggers, started by Jen of Redhead Ranting.  It is filled with friendly, supportive people willing to share information, and give advice (when asked, of course).

7.  Blogs can take on a life of their own.  I had different ideas about what my blog would become.  I wanted to create a source of local information to help people find good bargains and special events around town.  Problem - no local readers.  After finding #4, I began to realize that writing was more interesting to me and more appealing to others, thus changing the focus of my blog.

8.  "Build it and they will come" does not apply to blogging.  When I first started out, I thought I could just create a blog, publish posts and wait for people to show up.  Well, I guess that is true in part...the waiting part.  See Item #1.

9.  What widgets and gadgets really are.  I thought widgets and gadets were things usually found in one's junk drawer.  They are actually those little blocks found on your sidebar, containing code that put text and/or graphics on your blog.  Speaking of the Junk Drawer, "Hi Kathy".

10.  I have a lot more to learn.  I guess this is the most important thing I have learned thus far.  I am learning every day, by reading, experimenting; what works, and what doesn't.  It is all part of the process of blogging, and I am happily looking forward my next year in the blogosphere.

I have met so many helpful and encouraging people that I couldn't begin list them all here, but you know who you are.  I do want to send out a special thank you to my friend Sara from A Sharing Connection.  She has been right there encouraging me ever since the first comment I left on her one of her photo story posts. This was my initial venture into creative writing.

The Quote of the Week will return next week.

Isn't that Entrancing?

ENTRANCE - to put into a trance; to fill with delight or wonder.
ENTRANCE - the means by which to enter; the act of entering.

The same spelling, different pronunciations, and different meanings.  OK, are you with me so far?

Some years ago, hubby and I went to one of those Home & Garden Expos, and window shopped and fantasized about all the things we could with our house, or at least the house we aspired to have one day.  We talked to people and collected brochures.  At home later that evening, I was sitting cross-legged on the bed pouring over the brochures we picked up; one in particular and, puzzled about something that just didn't seem right, I asked "What's an ENTRANCE"?

And hubby says, "Let's see?  Hmmm...ah..."

Then I get The Look.  How dumb did I feel?  




Where you place the accent does make a difference.

Anything like this ever happen to you?

Lunch

Photo from Clker.com

Basking in the late afternoon sun, I savor each remaining moment.  Overhead a hawk circles ever higher as if winding himself up.  Suddenly he spies an unfortunate little field mouse who, unknowingly, was about to be invited to lunch, and not as a guest.  The hawk, now in perfect position, dives.  Nature's original fast food.

(My first) Friday Flash 55.

Morning Sky

Sunshine and raindrops

make prisms across the sky

Beautiful, fading, gone

Posted for One Shot Wednesday.

Quote of the Week

Things fall apart so that other things can fall together. 

 - Author Unknown

Sometimes when it looks like everything is going wrong, and you can't see the light at the end of the tunnel,  things have a way of working themselves out.  The bad times can be paving the way for good times ahead.

School Days

Photo courtesy of  Magpie Tales

Growing up in the South in a family of five back in the 1960s, I was the last girl born into the family, with the only boy being my younger brother, Frank.  As we each reached school age, we were sent to the St. Francis Catholic school for our education, and a continuation of our parental teachings.

The school was an old building, built back at the turn of the century and showing its age.  The wooden framing around the windows was weathered, and there were cracks where the brick and mortar had separated.  Inside, the wooden desks were polished smooth with many years of use.  Students had come and gone for generations.  Parents, their children and now their grandchildren were learning the scholarly arts at these same desks.

While some things didn't seem to change over the years, others did.  With the influx of rock and roll, flower children, hippies, drugs and the love movement, the children were subject to all manner of new evils.  The Mother Superior at St. Francis was also the principal.  It was her job to rule the children with a firm hand, and ensure they were able to take their proper place in society.

Being the youngest, it seemed Frank and I were always getting into trouble.  I could hear Sister Maria yelling across the school yard, "Jean, come here this instant young lady."  Frank was usually nearby, egging me on to even greater mischief.  The fact that I was such a tomboy was a continuing source of consternation for Sister Maria.  One day as Frank and I were playing catch, he threw the ball too high for me to catch it, and I cringed as it crashed through the library window.  It just so happened that the principal was in the library at the time, reading.  As soon as the glass shattered, we turned and ran behind some trees.  The Mother Superior heard the crash, saw the ball on the floor, and immediately called for Sister Maria.  She came on the run, yelling at the top of her voice,  "Jean, Frank, come here right NOW".  I swear to this day that even with her back to the window, that woman knew everything that happened and who was to blame. 

A work of fiction written for Magpie Tales #31.

Quote of the Week

Painting by Moritz Daniel Oppenheim

Losing an illusion makes you wiser than finding a truth. 
- Ludwig Börne



Illusions are often deeper and on a more personal level, so their loss is more of a life lesson than that of a truth  found through searching.

The Magic Apple

There was a special tree in the apple orchard - a magic tree.  It was said that anyone who ate the apples from this tree became enchanted with special powers.  Johnny had heard this story ever since he was little, but he'd never believed it.  The science geek in him wouldn't let him believe in magic, plus how would anyone get one of those apples anyway.  The story said the tree was guarded by magic.

Johnny was always getting kicked around and usually ended up being chased home by Saul, the school bully.  Today was no different.  Johnny ran all the way home with Saul hot on his heels.  Slamming the door, Johnny was safe one more time.  His mom usually left a snack for him on the counter.  She had no idea that Johnny was being bullied because he never talked about it - didn't want to show any sign of weakness.  After all he was 12 now, nearly a man in his opinion.  He should act like one, and was embarrassed about letting Saul chase him home every day.

Photo courtesy of  Magpie Tales

Johnny grabbed an apple from the bowl and headed upstairs to do his homework.  While social situations were difficult for the awkward 12-year old, his studies were a place he excelled.  He loved science and figuring out how things worked.  He was all the time doing experiements in the basement, much to his mother's dismay after the last experiment ended rather loudly.

Opening his book, he prepared for an afternoon of scientific delight.  He settled in and took a bite of his apple, while taking notes on a new project he wanted to try.  As he was reading, he began hearing strange sound.  It sounded like a kitten, but they didn't have a kitten.  "That's strange" he thought.  "I'm just imagining things."  But he kept hearing it, so he decided to follow the sound.  He went down the stairs and out the door.  The sound kept getting louder and louder, as he approached the garage.  There, behind the garbage can, he found a small, orange tabby kitten.  Wow, he thought, "I heard this kitten all the way inside, upstairs in my room."  Johnny takes the kitten into the house and offers her some milk and some tuna left over from his Mom's lunch.  "I hope you like this", he said as he pondered what just happened.

The next day after school, Johnny is on the lookout for Saul, hoping against hope to avoid him this time.  But no, there he is by the fence.  There is only one gate out of the playground, and Saul is guarding it.  "Hey, Saul, how about let's make peace?  You know, I stay out of your way, and you don't chase me home?" said Johnny hopefully.  Saul replied with a nasty grin, "Nah, ain't gonna happen.  You see, I don't like punks, and you're a punk" as he strode toward Johnny.  "You gonna run now, or do I have to teach you a lesson?"  Johnny decided that today wasn't the day to test his budding bravery, so he turned to run, as usual.  As he did, he found himself gaining speed, going faster and faster, and the trees he passed became a blur.  What?  "I thought I was getting braver, but I guess not, I'm running faster than ever"  He raised a cloud of dust behind him on the gravel road, and left Saul choking and confused.  As Johnny reached his house, instead of bouncing up the stairs one by one, he leaped to the top in one bound.  "Gee, what's the matter with me?  I can't run that fast or jump to the top of the stairs."  As he reached for the door knob, instead of opening it, he appeared on the other side.  "Whoa, this is too strange."  Could it be...?

"MOM" he called loudly, "MOM, where did you get those apples yesterday?"  "What apples", she asked?  "The ones on the counter.  I had one when I got home from school."  His mom responded with a startled look, "There were no apples on the counter yesterday.  They were out at the store, so I got some yogurts instead.  They were in the fridge."

Now Johnny began to consider what had happened to him.  Where had those apples come from?  How did they get there, and where were they now?  Could they possibly be from the magic tree, if indeed, it really did exist?  So many unanswered questions, but the thing that kept running through his head was..."I guess maybe now Saul won't be kicking me around anymore."

Written for Magpie Tales #30.

The Lock and the Key

Said the lock to the key

Will you marry me

We'll live forever more

Here upon this weathered door

It's charming and quaint

With it's peeling paint

Said the key to the lock

It's the best on the block

It's sheltered in shade

So we'll have it made

You and me together

Forever

Posted for One-Shot Wednesday

Quote of the Week

Feelings are much like waves, we can't stop them from coming but we can choose which one to surf.  - Jonatan Mårtensson

Madeira Beach, FL

If we look at feelings like waves that keep rolling ashore, we want to choose the ones that will give us the best ride and be least likely to cause a wipe out.  In other words, focus on the good feelings, ones that uplift you and keep you on an even keel.  Otherwise you may find yourself treading water.

Verbal Confusion

OK, so we get in the car to go for lunch.  The A/C is on and it hits hubby right in the face.  Now I drove the car last, and even though he is some 9 inches taller than me, the seat height adjustment puts our faces at approximately the same level.  That means that when I have the three closest vents pointing at my poor, overheated face, he gets a face full the next time he drives.  "You have all three vents blowing on your face?"  My explanation is this:  "Well, when I've been out and I'm hot and I'm stuff."  "So is that a roundabout way of saying that you're hot stuff?"  At which I laugh so hard I could barely breathe.  

Isn't it great when you can have a good laugh at yourself?

Shattered Dreams

Photo courtesy of  Magpie Tales

It was a house like any other in this quiet, upper-class, suburban neighborhood...or so it would appear.  With fresh paint and new cedar shingles, it nearly glows as the evening sun dips low in the sky.  On the inside, the setting is spacious and elegant.  It exudes a kind of an old world charm with furnishings from across the globe.  However, in the fall as the trees lose their leaves and the moon is full, the house takes on a different air.  If you look through the windows you may see an eerie glow moving around the room.  It lasts but a few minutes, and then disappears as if snuffed out.

The house was built some 75 years ago by a wealthy man for his young bride.  It was built from the finest materials that money could buy.  The furniture was custom made in England, and was shipped over by freighter, along with china and crystal.  There were Persian rugs upon the polished oak floors and chandeliers that sparkled like a thousand diamonds.  It was a dream come true for the young woman, for her life with her handsome husband to be lived out here.  They would throw lavish parties, raise beautiful children and grow old together here.  

However, fate is cruel, and on a trip to purchase yet more trinkets for his lovely wife, the train he was riding violently derailed.  The cars were nothing but twisted steel and mangled bodies beneath the fullness of the moon.  At home, his bride awaited his return with a candle upon her desk by the window.  All night she waited, alone and worried.  She had received no word, and knew not of the wreck.  The next day a telegram was delivered.  The terse message conveyed only the barest details of the accident, and that her husband was among the dead.  

Clutching the telegram, she sobbed uncontrollably and staggered up the stairs.  She had almost reached the landing when, in her grief, she missed the last step and tumbled back down the steps.  As she lay at there in her last moments of life, her mind returned to the past night when her husband was still coming home to her.  Each fall, around the time of her death, when the moon is full, her candle can be seen as she wanders through the house waiting for him to come home.

After the death of the young couple, the house was sold, fully furnished.  The new owners and their children and grandchildren have lived in harmony with the former resident.

Written for Magpie Tales #29.

Those Who Read Blogs Together

Have some odd conversations.  Here's a couple blurbs from last night.

Hubby said, "Redhead had a new one 8 hours ago."  

Me:  "Yeah, I read it, the one about..." 

Him:  "eHarmony Fail."  

"Yeah, that one."  He reads for a minute then asks, "what about that guy she had the date with?" 

"I don't know - someone asked the same question, but I read, commented and moved on.   I haven't been back yet to see if she said anything about it." 

Next:

"Did you read Babs Beetle?"  

Me:  "I did."  

Him:  "She has closed angle glaucoma."  

Me:  "Same as me." 

As he read through the comments, he noticed one where someone using eye drops not only missed her eye, but actually missed her entire face.  As he started to remark on that, he realized it was my comment, and said "I thought that sounded familiar", and I said, "that would be me."

I blog and he reads.  I think he got into it when I showed him the now famous Junk Drawer.  Any of y'all share your favorite reads?

Quote of the Week

I'll think about it...right after my nap.

To think too long about doing a thing often becomes its undoing. 
 - Eva Young


Sometimes we can over think a problem until we are so overwhelmed by the process that we make 
no further progress.

Night Terror

Photo courtesy of Magpie Tales

It was late, and darkness filled the room like death creeping in through the cracks in the old wooden floor.  The only light was that from a candle on the vanity. The silence screaming inside her head was deafening.  She suddenly had a strange, creepy feeling.  Barely breathing, she moved her eyes left and right, peering into shadows.  "I'm alone", she kept telling herself, "I'm alone.  I locked the doors and closed the blinds before I came up here." 

The old iron tub was quite the challenge to get up that narrow stairway.  The workmen were cracking jokes about rich gals and bubble baths as they lugged it up the steps.  She and her husband had bought the old house to restore, and the tub was one thing she insisted on.  Now, alone in the house for the first time since they moved in, she thought she would enjoy a long soak in her tub. 

But now she felt a chill even through the warm water.  It was then she heard the first creak.  It's an old house she thought, it will crack and pop from time to time.  It's OK.  In the hall, the floor creaked again.  Fear began to settle into her heart.  Maybe I'm not alone!  She looked around the room, trying to see anything that could help her.  There was no phone, and nothing to serve as a weapon.  She had refused to keep a gun in the house.  Only the innocent get killed with their guns, she had said.  Now here she lay, naked in her bubble bath in a dark room, in a big empty house, with a psycho killer on the other side of the door.  Maybe it's just a robber and if I stay quiet, he'll take what he wants and leave.  Please, God, don't let him find me.  Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears she was sure he'd hear it.  Then there was a footstep just outside the bathroom, and the rattle of the old glass door knob as it turned.  The door squeaked as it opened slowly.  Eyes wide open, she stared through the dim light toward the door.  As a dark figure entered the room, something glinted in the light from the candle.  It was a knife, the blade long and thin. The killer waved it menacingly at her.  This was it.  She would die here in her tub.  Now, oddly detached, her last thought was "I'm glad I had a pedicure".  She screamed one hoarse scream and slumped back into the now cooling water. 

"Lily, wake up.  Wake up, you were screaming."  It was her husband, gently calling her back to reality.

A fictional story written for Magpie Tales #28

Blogging: The Value of Comments

We all want more comments on our blog.  But why?  Is it just a matter of boosting our egos, showing our popularity, or just making us feel good about ourselves?   Let's take a look at how valuable comments really are to both the reader and the author.

Validating the Author

Every time you read another writer's post and leave a comment, you are validating the writer.  You are saying - I have read and enjoyed your work, and found it to be entertaining, informative, or helpful.  This encourages us to continue writing and to put forth our best efforts.  So when you read something you really enjoyed, that made you laugh or even cry, please let the writer know.

Feedback

Not only are we validated by comments, but the feedback will help us with future posts.  As we build a relationship with our readers, we gain insight into what they relate to, or connect with the most.  With this knowledge, we can write more effectively to our audience, and our posts will have greater meaning than if we just write 'hit or miss' and hope someone finds it interesting.

Forming Friendships

As you receive and respond to comments, conversations spring up, and friendships are formed.  Although we may never actually meet our "blogging friends" face to face, the friendships are real, encouraging and supportive.

Promote your Blog

Here's where we get to the "me" part.  It's the old give to get concept.  Commenting on others' blogs will likely get you more comments on your own blog.  If you leave a sincere comment on someone's post, along with your "return address", they will probably come visit your blog, and hopefully leave you a comment in return.  The more active you are with reading and commenting, the greater the opportunity for others to discover you.

The Results

Whether given or received, comments provide helpful feedback, insight into your audience, new friends and, ultimately, more comments.  So next time you read something you like, give the writer a heads up.

Quote of the Week

Buckeye Butterfly

 "Just living is not enough," said the butterfly, "one must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower." 

- Hans Christian Anderson




So often we get caught up with our busy lives and forget to appreciate the little things like the joy of just watching the butterflies.

The Beach Cottage

Photo courtesy of  Magpie Tales

"Francine, do you realize we've been coming to this same cottage for 20 years", cackled Edith as her sister turned into the sandy driveway and past the mermaid mailbox?

"Has it been that long," Francine pondered?  "Um, now that I think about it, I guess it has.  We started coming here right after Chester passed away.  He would have liked it here - you know he always loved the beach.  I don't think it's changed much over the years, do you?" 

"No, I guess just they patch the shingles and slap on a new coat of paint every couple of years.  I wonder how they get the color matched so perfectly after all these years."

Edith yawned, stretched and pulled her suitcase out of the trunk.  "I don't know, I guess it's all that new technology.  As the kids are always saying, 'there's an app for that'.  So, do we cook or go out?  I say we go out.  It was a long ride, and I'm tuckered. There wil be plenty of time to shop for groceries tomorrow."

Francine, agreeing that they should let someone else do the cooking tonight, said "OK, I think I'll go for a swim before dinner just to relax a bit.  Want to join me?"  

"Sure" Edith answered from the hall, "but I'd like to get a few things put away first.  Edith began to put her stuff into the drawers on the left side of the dresser.  Francine always used the right side.  It's funny how little things become habit after so many years.  The dresser's faded finish showed its age just like the old faucet out back where guests have been rinsing the sand from their feet for decades.  The storms and salt water are hard on the pipes.  They are rusted and showing some patina, but like the sister's reminiscence upon arrival, not much had changed over 20 years, including the old rusty water pipe.


This was written for Magpie Tales #27