humanity

and the sky weeps

to remind us of our humanity

Under the Rain

Mathieu Thiebaut

“I am a woman but no angel.

Angels don’t exist,” she said.

Soy Candles: soy wax flakes, essential fragrance oil, wicks, and containers. I use a wax thermometer, to gauge the correct temperature to pour the wax. Light up the dark.

Light The Dark

He drew me in. A moth to a flame.

Lit candles are beautiful.

Ingredients

An old cooking pot, soy wax flakes, essential oil, wicks, and repurposed, heat safe containers to ‘house’ the poured wax. I used thrifted silver sugar bowls and white washed tin. Sometimes, I use china tea cups. Tin cans add a Farmhouse or Industrial feel. A Tip- ”BAR KEEPERS FRIEND,’ a liquid, multi purpose, cook top polish, cleans and shines tarnished silver.

Soy candles are simple to make. Use a wax thermometer to gauge the pour temperature. You can’t mess this DIY up!

Follow the instructions on the wax box/bag. If you notice an uneven surface (after the candle dries), use a hair dryer to warm the wax and even out the surface. To remove wax from a container, place the candle in the freezer for a short period of time. It will easily pop out.

Supervise children and never leave the candle unattended. Monitor the burn time.

Stella

1962

Stella set the letter right side up. She didn’t care who read it. Leave them guessing. Besides, her leaving work was nobody’s business. Of course everybody suspected something. 

She had banked holiday time. Perhaps she’d head south and work on her tan. Kitty, her friend in Orange County, had a small apartment. “Hop on a flight to Los Angeles,” she had said, “I’ll take you to a few parties, introduce you ’round town.”

Stella waited as Kitty  paused to exhale, “My new man-” She could practically smell the smoke and see the ring.

“He’s an actor.”

Orange County was an option. To hell with Roy. He can hire a temp secretary.  She didn’t give a hoot. Let him figure it out. Sunshine and the odd cocktail party might be a remedy for her blues.

Stella placed the dust cover on top of her typewriter and lifted her purse from the drawer. She loosened the scarf around her neck and draped it over her hair, knotting the ends. She glanced at her watch. If she hurried, she’d escape before the others arrived at the office. 

Stella: The Letter

The only sound in his office is the ticking of a clock on the wall. Stella stares at the overhead light. He is trapped like the dead fly positioned between the glass and bulb.

 

She is an angel in a hurricane

Her wings- hard scrabbled grace

 

I can not turn away.

 

~ Benevolence Is An Angel

She stood in the storm and let

the rain wash the dusty memories from her soul

There is a hush within the edges of time. If one listens, one can feel it.

It is early dawn and I am easy, not required to be anything people think I should be. There are no demands placed upon my time.  Within this pause, I imagine the gift of another day, open to whatever magic it may bring.

Silence is my church. It is where I do my deepest work.  As the stars lean in to listen, I spill my holiest thoughts. Morning shines like a beacon of hope.

I worship the margins of time. There is room to rest as the simplest of moments  begin and turn each day. It is where I find clarity.

 

and the stars leaned in to listen.”

~ and some days this is how I find the inspiration to write. Black coffee and Peggy Lee, hon.

A paragraph from a scene titled, Do Right. The setting is a  fictional locale – Ardua Pier- where things happen

Truth lies in a dream.

 

The dull blast of a horn signaled a ship entering port. He listened as waves lapped against the pylons. The high-pitched sound of a woman’s laughter rang from the neighbouring sugar factory.  From a warehouse loft, somewhere high above the hillside, a violin’s music serenaded the stars.

Life is ever-changing, he thought, like the sea: calm and smooth, violent and rough. He yearned for a moment between struggle and triumph, a respite.

The hum of a car’s finely tuned engine interrupted his thoughts. He shivered and turned. Shielding his eyes from the glare of headlights, he watched as Rummy’s Cadillac inched closer to the bridge on the pier.

Photo Credit: unsplashed- Danielle Dobson

 

Dawn stirs

With a trust so gentle

Her skirt, a whispered rustle

Her presence, like an old friend

To edge me back to morning

 

New rain softens the window pane

A drop fell on the Cherry tree

Sent to kiss the earth

And blur the memory of a dream

I had lingered too long, within

 

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A storyteller who writes and scribbles, and calls it art.

MovieBabble

The Casual Way to Discuss Movies

MyStoriesWithMusic

READ THE STORY AND FIND THE SONG - The story and the song have the same title, but are not necessarily about the same theme, however they are linked in some way and as you read the story you will find the song. (There will also be posts that are poems/quotes and posts that are all about the music.)

The Sound Sniffer

Sniffing out the best new music

A R C H I P E L A G A L

islands and in between

SCENTS MEMORY

Wear what you love, not what they say you should like.

Goal Digger

Be Positive, Patient and Persistent...

Sauce Box

Never get lost in the Sauce

SKYLARITY

Paradigm Shift, Mindfulness, and Personal Empowerment

Little Fears

Tales of humour, whimsy and courgettes

Corkboards and Coffee Houses

Reflections on Writing

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Your sentence here.

Give me a sentence. I'll write you a story.

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