Thoughts rammed Roy’s mind. He leaned to rest his forehead  against the kitchen window. The glass cooled the fire that raged through his head.  Reality is here and now.

Reality was the girls’ laughter heard from beyond a sheer pane of glass. What about the children? Roy stood at the window and watched his daughters skip about the yard. Annie darted in and out from behind the weathered garage, her fist balled tight. Hidden within  was found treasure- a smooth stone, a feather, or some lost  bits of nature. Waving her fist, she teased Madeline, tempted her to join in a game of tag- winner take all. Of course, Madeline ignored the bait, choosing instead to pause and wonder at the creature she had discovered crawling along the bark of the cherry tree.

Earlier that morning, Jacqueline had asked, ” The old man wants to know. When are you painting the garage?”

“I’ll paint it on the first sunny day,” he had said.  And why does she always refer to her father as The Old Man?

Here it was. Full sun. The old man had already scraped the cedar boards and replaced the rot. 

There was work to do. Instead, he paused and watched Madeline pick a wriggling caterpillar from the cherry tree and dangle it in front of her nose. Gently, she placed the creature back onto the trunk. Madeline’s cat like eyes followed the caterpillar’s journey until it had roamed beyond reach. Annoyed, she crossed her arms tightly about her chest and lowered her head.

Birds flit everywhere. Robins, chickadees, and swallows glided to rest upon the tree’s branches. Lifting their wings just a bit, each bird let the sun’s warmth kiss their feathers. It was the season of transformation and just as spring announces change, he too, was in flux.

Annie skipped across the lawn like an inbound storm. Her arms reached for the branches of the tree, her fingers batting blossoms. Pure joy shone from her face. “Pink snow, pink snow!” He watched her pick the fallen blossoms from Madeline’s hair.

It was enough to witness Annie’s bewitching charm. She blew kisses to the clouds, danced with ghosts, her arms outstretched as she spun. He worried that her imagination was getting out of hand; she lived in her head.

“You need to reign her in,” he had told Jacqueline. “All this talk of fairies and-“ 

“Leave her be.” “Imagination is a gift.” 

He had watched as Jacqueline resumed her painting. Roses, their petals drooped cloud white, spilled overtop a round, golden vase. This morning, she had added leaves, tucked them in between the buds. He marvelled at her talent. 

“She needs to play with other children-,“ he had said.

Jacqueline froze mid brush stroke. “Enough. There are kids from one end of the block to the other.”  The brush, loaded with bluish paint, dropped to the pallet. Her fingers reached for  a cigarette.

“There’s a private nursery school up the street, ” he said.  “I think- ”

Jacqueline lit her smoke and paused to exhale. “It costs money, Roy. You paying?”

The loaded question she  left hanging in air, suggested that her father was the all time giver, the reason they weren’t renting some basement suite on the east side. Her tone certain; Jacqueline had a limited interest in the opinion of someone who had just married into the family.  

 

It was two years from the date that his second daughter was born. Christened, Madeline Jane, she’d shuddered, chest heaving through her gown, as the priest muttered blessings and sprinkled holy water upon the crown of her smooth, pinkish head.

Earlier this morning, the small family had celebrated her second birthday with a simple cake. They’d laughed as the child smeared vanilla frosting across her lips, watched as her window on the world opened a teensy bit wider.

There were no guests or relatives in attendance. Their families weren’t the close-knit types and the road between his mother and Jacquie had grown longer. It began in  a hospital  nursery, three years earlier, with the birth of Annie. It was once more repeated as his mother inadvertently cast a spell upon the forehead of Madeline Jane.

“That woman. Once again, she has the nerve to tell me, ‘had you a boy, I wouldn’t have come to the hospital for a look-see,’ ” Jacquie fumed. “Bolt the door. I hope she never comes back.”

a bit more of ‘Winston’~

~ word play with the ‘Winston’ app: apple

‘Winston’

~ Playing with the Winston app: Free download, Apple App Store,

It began with a windswept beach and a salty kiss. It ended in a hurricane.

Channeling Hadley  Richardson Hemingway. Playing with ‘Winston’.

~ Annie

or

It began as …

 

 

Hadley Richardson- Chicago Tribune 

A Sacred Moment

Morning shivers breaking dawn. A sliver of sunlight slips through the open window.  The first sparrow’s chirrup, ‘Wake up, Wake up. Wake up.’ From somewhere down the street, a child’s laughter scatters like jacks tossed upon cement. A siren screams in the distance. The flowers are silent.

 

Heaven is on earth.

~ Annie

Do you remember what you said to me, that day, beneath the towering oak? This was long ago, before we knew what would become of us.

You told me that you were staying by my side. There was steel truth to your words.

And now you glance off as if afraid to see your reflection in my eyes. Yet you keep coming back to the one thing that could disarm you.

~dialogue

Birdie

excerpt from a draft scene~ a word or two on The Detectives and Birdie

The setting: Bing’s Palace

1960

 

At the mention of Birdie, Gladys waved her fingers on both hands to signify wings. She turned, eased past the two sailors to speak with the host. “That one, toward the back wall-” and  pointed to a section of round tables placed beneath a silk wall screen adorned with merchant tea schooners. “Once it’s cleared, we’ll take it,” she said.

Marsha glanced toward the back of the restaurant. It was obvious this group thought they were something special. Dark suits, glints of gold. One look told her these players were high rollers and not afraid to be seen in public. Booze was in plain view. They’d brought their own bottles and she watched as Jimmy the accountant, topped up the half filled glasses.  Notes swayed above the other diners, rang out, and lingered within the room. It was a deliberate distortion of pitch and timbre, a down tempo layer over a backdrop of clatter. Birdie.

The wink from Gladys, told Marsha, that her partner had similar thoughts. ”Sit beside me,” she whispered. “Better view of our targets.”

“Ladies.” The host bowed and motioned for the women to follow. As he pulled out their chairs, he asked, ”Water?”

Gladys agreed. “Two. Tea, as well.”

The young man smiled and lowered his gaze. “I’ll get your waiter, ma’am.” With a half bow, he turned and headed toward the kitchen.

Gladys leaned over. “Watch,” she said.

Marsha looked at the group and saw two fingers rise above the men’s heads. Even from a distance, she could see that the woman’s finger- tips resembled rubies. The fingers snapped for service. Suddenly, a doe eyed face with raven hair piled atop a perfectly formed head, peeked from behind the child seated next to her: Birdie, beautiful songstress, club noir.

Marsha watched as the host paused mid step. Everyone knew that pretty face. Birdie Song was a soul seductress and local celebrity, known to ‘bring the house down’. A tempest, she held sway at the Five Note, an after hours jazz club, modeled after its sister joint in New York City. Word on the street was that Birdie had made it big and everyone agreed, “If you can make it in New York, you can make it anywhere.”

Birdie’s finger- tips fluttered like butterflies over the blonde head of a tiny girl. She pointed toward a glass, cocked her head to the side, spoke to the child, and smiled at the waiter.

Marsha had to agree with the ad man who wrote the singer’s stage headline, ‘even a hurricane can’t extinguish this gal’s flame.’ Birdie’s lipstick was the shade of pale pink carnation. Here she sat a bloom, as if in a garden, tempting snakes and fate. Birdie Song was the Queen Bee of the honey pot.

One of the men seated at the table looked back toward the front door. He appeared uneasy as if checking to see if anyone familiar was seated in the restaurant. Satisfied, he turned and spoke to the child seated to his right. His hand warmed her shoulder.

 

 

 

 

Stars quiver in darkness

Shy of love’s light

The heavens are silent

when an angel takes flight

 

Hush a bye darling

You’re not alone

Safe in his arms

He’ll carry you home.

 

 

and I don’t remember much about us. Not the season that we met. I hope it was spring. I thought I was just another girl on your list. Did you keep a list? You were kind. I don’t recall our kisses in the dark. I do. I still see your face. Dark eyes narrowed as if mining for lies. This is truth. You made me smile. You met me in storms and sunshine. You held my hand and walked me home. In those moments I wasn’t alone. You convinced me I was pretty and when I needed you to stay, you left.

~ dialogue

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

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 whimsy, humor and courgettes

Corkboards and Coffee Houses

Reflections on Writing

Lizzy's Litanies

Is there no way out of the mind? Of lazy litanies and trying to make sense on the way down the rabbit's hole...

Your sentence here.

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

Sabiscuit's Catalog

I can't eat biscuits, but I have a better idea ...

HeartSphere

Conversations with the Heartmind

At Koko's Place

Simply a lifestyle blog! Come along with me...

deepspiritleading

Reflections on spirituality in everyday life

Minister Is A Verb

Let your passion be directed by reason. Take Action!

Dean J. Baker - Poetry, and prose poems

My BOOKS https://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM

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

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 whimsy, humor and courgettes

Corkboards and Coffee Houses

Reflections on Writing

Lizzy's Litanies

Is there no way out of the mind? Of lazy litanies and trying to make sense on the way down the rabbit's hole...

Your sentence here.

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

Sabiscuit's Catalog

I can't eat biscuits, but I have a better idea ...

HeartSphere

Conversations with the Heartmind

At Koko's Place

Simply a lifestyle blog! Come along with me...

deepspiritleading

Reflections on spirituality in everyday life

Minister Is A Verb

Let your passion be directed by reason. Take Action!

Dean J. Baker - Poetry, and prose poems

My BOOKS https://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM

The thinking girl's guide to life

Written by Janine Clifton

I'm a Writer, Yes, I Am!

Martha Ann Kennedy's Blog, Copyright 2013-2018, all rights reserved to the author/artist

The One Thing I know For Sure

A soft place to fall, some poetry, some stories some random thoughts but most of all a place that I hope blesses those who stop by.

Souldier Girl

Poetry from a heart on fire

V-Twin Life

Bikers Life, Bars, News, and Events

EMPOWERING WOMEN

Relationships, Words of Hope and Inspiration, Empowerment

Words Like Honey

add sweetness to my soul

I didn't have my glasses on....

A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.

Dr. K. L. Register

Just a small town girl who writes about Christian stuff.

a POP of red

A blog of utilitarian DIYs, fantastic food, and much more

The Crafty Mummy

DIY, Crafts and Handmade

Words.Become.Legacies

My thoughts come to ink

BLOG

Spread Hope. Inspire Others.

prairiebazaar

Vintage, Upcycled, Handmade

SOLM Designs

Elegant, Simple & Fresh Design

re:retro

collecting retro

FOUND THIS, PAINTED THAT.

Decorating solutions for the dollar challenged.

WithLoveWenBlog

I’m the creator of WithLoveWen.com Emphasizing a lifestyle through writing, exploring cities, healthy habits and fashion. Based in the New York City area.