Ebenezar and Eliot whispered as if the stately pine, cedar, birch, and maple trees in the forest could gossip.
Imagine… Fifteen years had disappeared.
No one would ever know their camouflage, their secrets.
The quivers started tonight. Her long, lean legs would not stop trembling. Parasha stretched painfully to pull them up towards her sore, scarred breasts.
Hold tighter. Maybe she could huddle and press against the dump-ster, the side closest to the dilapidated, mill building.
Cold and clammy. Always black, a penetrating dark.
Parasha muffled her haunting coughs in the sleeve of a torn denim jacket. She felt the caked dirt touch her dry, chapped lips.
She tried not to gag. That horrid stench from the dumpster filled Parasha’s nostrils.
Was that scratching and clawing coming from inside the dumpster? She tried to concentrate, keep her slit eyes from closing.
Parasha kept warning herself. “Don’t let your eyes close, not to-night…”
“Hiss-s-s-s.” Another noise. Was it far enough down the alley?
Parasha grabbed frantically, touched a corner of the night-soiled dumpster. “Oh gross, the slime…” she moaned.
Her fingers slid down, hitting something hard. Somehow, Parasha stifled a cry. She really did not want to know what she whacked in that pitch blackness.
Were those footsteps? God, there were footsteps coming closer. Now, there was a menacing, continuous hiss.
“Stop. Please…Please, stop the madness!” Parasha begged from the depths of her soul. Her shallow, rapid breaths were tormenting re-minders.
Uncontrollable madness, toxic sounds filling the stench-filled air. Heartbeats pounded loudly in her heaving chest. Parasha had to strain to hear beyond the foreboding, ominous hissing.
Muffled voices. The spiteful laughs and evil voices were coming— closer and closer…
Without A Price Tag
Nature is. Can we pause? Be…
Nature whispers. Can we pause? Listen…
Nature transforms. Can we pause? Watch…
Nature offers gifts, without a price tag. Can we pause? Receive…
Tilton’s deck and recliner provided Latoya’s reprieve, a curative balm. Mom and Dad had died less than a year ago. Her oldest sister, Alexis, had died unexpectedly, just after them. To bask in the bennies on his deck felt ultra stupendous.
Superhuman and mind-blowing… Those words epitomized Tilton’s essence, the core of his phenomenal persona. Talking politics, religion, or philosophy, dancing, seaside and lake adventures, swimming, hiking or skiing, and writing poetry. It did not matter.
Latoya believed in his glorious, spiritual intentions. Tilton was supposed to be her earth angel. And, Latoya—his mystical muse and healer.
Tilton came outdoors, cocked his head, and mimed a kiss like no other. He bent over to pick a rasberry-pink rose, bowing melodramati-cally in front of her. Then Tilton tossed the fragrant petals upon Latoya’s heart.
Something within, a telepathic message from her soulmate parents, made her turn suddenly to the sky. Her treasured “signs” appeared.
One hawk. Then another one afar…
Latoya felt a distinct stillness. The hawks in tandem flew closer and closer. Their beaks touched in a kiss—before a dramatic free fall.
“Madre….JJ!” Latoya love-whispered her beloved parents’ nick-names. A few minutes later—another sign.
A seagull, never witnessed in Tilton’s yard or inland neighbor-hood, made a fly-by above the hedge near his deck. It soared majestical-ly to join Latoya’s hawks in tandem.
“Alexis!” she called out effortlessly, jumping up from the recliner. Latoya reminisced… Her sister had published a chapbook of prose, its cover being a coveted seagull, exactly like her mother had painted!
Tilton gazed and turned purposefully to Latoya. His hazel eyes became a window to her enlivened soul. He came closer and enfolded Latoya in a tender, poignant hug.
“Your loving signs, Latoya?” he asked, breathing ever so gently in-to her virtuous ear…
Suddenly, a prick of gratitude touched the chambers of her heart. Could Radiance dare to explore the realms of unconditional love again?
Zoey was gazing from a Caribbean chair. Her deck was perfect—close to the aquamarine, pristine waters and a nearby peninsula, dotted with stunning, statuesque rocks.
A regal, camel-cream dog walked along her shoreline. Suddenly, it came to a culminating standstill.
One steady glimpse ahead followed by an uplifted, turned head with impassioned eye-squints. Exactly three…
“I lavish you with unconditional love, Zoey.”
“Infinite love comes full circle, my ardent and generous dog whis-perer,” Zoey intoned.
“Where shall we globe trot this time, Zoey?”
The surfer dudes arrived, dropped anchor at the Tiki bar. Two of them swayed forward, propping up against the worn, mahogany bar top.
Or was it a last, formidable wave that pitched them safely against this well-informed bar? Monica took another sip of her light, fruity wine.
“Hello, Ms. Missy,” he announced, swaying her way. He tried to hop confidently on the Jimmy Buffet-striped stool next to Monica.
The other surfer dude stood and stared intently. Or was it blankly?
Monica was elegant and swanky, rather hard to miss. She re-mained a bronze goddess, elusive and charming in any moment.
First came their questions and, undoubtedly, their fantasies of a potential keepsake. Shawn and Henry assumed way too much. Monica was not the typical “catch of the day.”
Monica grinned, engaged effortlessly in any dialogue. She cast a free spirit to the surfer dudes and their rip currents.
The Missy-surfer dude, antsy Shawn, departed for another quest. Surfer dude Henry stayed, hoping to impress, but fell into a deeper abyss.
Time gone by, yet not… Just time.
“Can I have a hug?” he asked quietly. He hoped that Monica would slide back up on her bar stool.
Only one embrace from a spirited Tiki goddess? Monica’s hug was warm, befriending his scars.
Monica strolled slowly, her tall beauty forcing heads to turn and admire from the Tiki bar. She drifted away from Henry’s vision with a gentle wave and kindly smile…
Unclogged Human Drains
Elad and Sabrina welcomed the “open mic” comedy nights. “Bra-vo, roll out the red carpet!” they would tout, always enthused by the di-versity of “open miquers.”
Together, they unclogged human drains, opening the minds and hearts of men, women, adolescents, and children. Bravissimo!
“Let’s catch them off-guard,” Sabrina proposed, giving Elad a gen-erous, impassioned hug. Elad, a gifted humorist who never worried about smile wrinkles or life, gave her triple winks.
“Touché, my sweet… Be back. Need to use the bathroom,” Elad divulged. Then he crossed his eyes, arms, and legs all at once. Sabrina’s peels of laughter carried afar…
Next up… Elad and Sabrina—in a new, comedic venue!
Sabrina heard the shouts, the soul-numbing hysteria. She ran to peek from the backstage curtain.
Policia. Chaos. Masked invaders…
Where was her beloved Elad?