Dear Readers

Fear not the Darkness, But What Lies Within, The recesses of our mind, The creepy cobwebbed corners,That lingers on and tickles us,With tingle feelings of alarm, The deep in the stomach, Pain we feel when we do warn, The fear is deadly it seeks, The deepest corner of our mind, It's just a story to alarm,Educate and provide entertainment for our minds. So read on dear reader, I hope you find the stories amusing and full of charm.

Saturday, December 16, 2017

Your Christmas/Hanuakah/Holiday Treat ~Excerpt from Visions of Sugarplums and Christmas is Calling

The following are two excerpts from Christmas Is Calling 
and Visions of Sugarplums available at Amazon

if you'd like to purchase the book or books just click the title it will take you to a link to do so.

Angels We Have Heard On High

It was unseasonably warm a week ago and winter’s chill had come in a fury. Now the snow came down in not small clumps, but like someone throwing snowballs. I was cold hungry and I needed shelter for the night.

“I’m sorry; if only you’d come sooner, the shelter is full.” the person at the shelter called the Inn of the shepherd said as I looked in to see a Christmas tree burning brightly.

I had myself a bitter laugh. Here it was Christmas Eve and there was no room at the Inn. I looked around, no stable to be found, but a cardboard box from some large appliance someone was getting for Christmas lay before me.

How I remembered those Christmases of excesses, when money was plenty. When my life was different, and I had the love of my life by my side, but all of that was gone in the blink of an eye. I lost my job and then chased away my love, with anger and bitter words. Mary had then withered and died. Then I had lost my home and dignity, as I now walked the streets, living day to day on handouts.

I lay down to sleep on the cold ground, wrapped inside my box. The wind was bitter and bitingly cold. I pulled my ragged coat tighter round me. And still the cold battered me. I was almost asleep when I heard the heavenly music, the choir singing ‘Angels We Have Heard On High’. Before I had even thought about it my lips were singing the song too and I started wishing for an angel to take me out of the cold on this chilly night.

Suddenly before me appeared a woman, at least at first I thought she was a woman. I somehow knew without a doubt this was an angel. Her hair was dark, her wings hidden close to her back, small and almost invisible; until that is she bent forward and then the wings unfurled to their full size. They were majestic wings that from wing to tip each were six feet long and dark black in colour like a crow’s wings. I questioned why had I been sent a dark angel? Was I so unredeemable?
“Contrary to popular belief, angels come in all shapes and sizes, with all kinds of wings,” she admonished, as if she read my mind. Then she continued, “Lionel, I thought you were different and showed no prejudice.”

“Sorry,” I apologized, ashamed and suddenly frightened.

“Lionel, my dear man, and yes you are a good man; fear not for I have watched over you all your life. You need not dread me.”

“You’ve watched over me? Then where were you when I needed you?”

“I have been beside you. I have seen your best and your worst, and so has the almighty. You’ve learned much in the last week, and the almighty has seen your kindness, when you had so little yourself. He saw you give your last dollar to that teenager who was hungry.”

“Is that why the almighty finally answered my prayer?”
“Lionel, my dear man. Who stood with you when you needed shelter? Who found a meal for your empty belly? Who lifted your feet and made them light, when you felt you could walk no more?”

“The almighty was with me?”

“Yes, he made the unseasonable mild weather. He made the lady see that you needed money for food. Remember how surprised you were that she gave you a twenty?


“Come Lionel. Come with me to your reward. There will be no more pain, no more trial, no more sorrow, only his light,” she said taking me by the hand and pulling me into glorious light.

Light, all-encompassing peace and joy, everlasting enveloped me and there just in front of me, my dear wish, my wife.

“Hello Lionel. I’ve been waiting for you,” Mary said as she hugged me.

“Poor beggar, he died during the night.” I heard from far away.

But that life had no meaning for me anymore, I became light and felt nothing but peace and joy. So I had one request from the almighty. Let me share this love and joy at Christmas to all those deserving ones. And so God rewarded me. With Mary by my side, we are Christmas angels. We help the most deserving and see they get the Christmases they need. So if you feel that joy and that tug at your wallet this season, open it and share what you can. Make someone’s Christmas as special as mine.
©Sheilagh Lee December 6, 2012

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Home Invasion

He crept swiftly passed the sleeping girl, checking to make sure she didn’t hear his footsteps on the threadbare carpet. She stirred slightly and he paused for moment, taking a huge breath hoping she wouldn’t hear him. He slipped passed the boys room, as the cat almost tripped him. He worried that his large frame would make more noise and awakened the family before this job was done. He continued down the hall past the parent’s bedroom.

Softly his feet patted on the carpet and then a little harder on the wooden stairs as he tiptoed down them.

He entered the family room and spotted some baked goods left on a plate. Tempted he took one off the plate and thought about eating it. He then looked down at his round belly and almost stopped but then he thought dieting for woosies. Besides he could diet in the New Year after this job. The baked good dry and appetizing almost made him not eat it. But he was hungry, or at least he thought he was, even as he felt it go to his stomach like a lead weight, he continued eating. When he finished the baked good, he walked around the living room. Where he looked was bare, hardly anything filled the room. A well-worn chair well-loved covered in duct tape to hold it together stood in the corner. A sofa long and looking saggy was there covered in a crochet blanket to hide its flaws.

In the corner of the dark room stood a Christmas tree; if you could call it a tree, calling it a tree would be kind. The tree looked like something out of Charlie Brown’s Christmas. He stared at it for a few moments, watching the twinkling lights. A single strand blinked at him. He then decided to get the job done before this family woke. He took out his bag looking for his tools. He found them and quickly completed the job. Placing the tools back in his bag, he packed up and snuck out of the house.

The girl woke first and as she went into the living room, she squealed waking the boy who came running in response. The parents came next, worried about the screaming from their child.

The parents stood their shocked and puzzled staring into the living room. The whole family gazed and looked in shock at their living room. Where once a duct taped chair stood;. its depilated state an eyesore in the room, a leather chair was now positioned.

And not just any chair, a La-Z-Boy chair that could recline. The sofa was leather too and matched perfectly. A rug, a beautiful tapestry of figures on horseback, and with golden threads, appeared under the furniture. And in the corner where their Charlie Brown Christmas tree had stood, a beautiful Douglas fir stood in its place. It fairly glowed with the five hundred lights strung around it. The ornaments they’d placed so lovingly on their tree were there, with many more new ones filling the branches. And underneath the tree a bounty of riches, many pretty packages layered beneath the tree.

“I don’t understand this,” retorted the father, shaking his head.
“Me either,” the mother claimed, covering her mouth in wonderment.

“It was Santa Claus,” insisted the children.

“It must have been,” mother agreed. “Thank you, whoever did this. Because of you, my children will have Christmas. God bless you ten-fold.”

“Yes, thank-you Santa and God bless you,” the girl child reiterated, opening a present and squealing to find a Justin Bieber doll.

The man who had crept into the house sat in his home, his feet in front of the fire warming them.

“Did they hear you?” asked his wife.

“No,” he replied.

“Did your brother, Paul help you with the furniture?” she enquired.

“Yes, we got it all in and I used my tools to make sure it was all put together right.”

“And the tree did it fit?” she wanted to know.

“Yes, and it was beautiful,” he commented “The presents are all under the tree?”

“Yes, dear, including the Justin Bieber doll, Ellen wanted,” he stated happily.

“They don’t know who did all this. Do they?”

“No, they’ll never know their neighbours got together and did this,” he answered.

“Good. I hope they believe Santa Claus did all this.”

“Of course after all it was Santa Claus,” he replied, with a wink and touched his nose.

“Santa needs to go on a diet,” his wife commented.

“Yes, a little treadmill and then his belly won’t be so jolly,” he laughed. “I need a couple of hours sleep then we can have our Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, come to bed Santa.”

“Merry Christmas, to you too honey, and to all a goodnight.”

©Sheilagh Lee December 6, 2012


The wonder of Santa Claus
Seen through children’s eyes
Brings back treasured memories
Of Christmases long ago
The anticipation of Christmas morning
The family gathering too
Seen through rose-coloured glasses
The bittersweet remembrance
Siblings gone too soon
Of parents gone too
Forgotten for a moment
Lost in the anticipation
Of the celebration
So long ago.

©Sheilagh Lee December 5, 2017

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanuakah,Happy Holiday whatever you celebrate I hope you have fun.

Tuesday, December 12, 2017

Tuesday's Writings #No 24- Christmas Spirit

Tuesday's Writings  #No 24- Christmas Spirit 
Prompts:Rouleau, Pervious, Orphic

“I have no Christmas spirit this year,” I commented, The rouleau on the tree even bores me.
“Rouleau you sound so pretnetious just call it trim.
The point it the orphic symbol of Christmas doesn't excite me.
“ Using pervious words doesn't change the fact that, that makes two of us, Holly,” my brother Zach answered, “I miss them too.”
“I’m so selfish forgetting you lost them too.”
“I have an idea what will make us happy,” Zach answered.
“What have Christmas… just the two of us? You’re always full of ideas, but it’s the follow up that’s the problem. I’ll be cooking the dinner.”
“Come with me to the mall,” Zach begged.
“You’re crazy; the mall is zoo this time of year, a week before Christmas.”
“Just follow me Holly. Come with me and you won't be sorry.”

          Holly reluctantly followed her brother.  He took her to the toy department and she felt like a kid again as they laughed and played with some of the toys. Zach put some of the toys in a cart. Then he went to the toiletries department and bought things that Holly could use. But why was he buying all of these things in front of her she wondered? Zach laughed and whispered in her ear and Holly understood.

        Holly picked up toys and some men’s toiletries and put them in her cart. Then she and Zach split up Zach going to the women’s clothing her to the men’s department. When they were all done they met at the front of the store laughing and smiling they paid for the goods. Them they went into the mall and in the centre of the mall near Santa they placed all their gifts. They had found Christmas after all.
©Sheilagh Lee December 12, 2017

Naughty Kitten
Mesmerizing, electrifying, orphic in intent,
Lights twinkling and shimmering,
A rouleau of colour wrapped about the tree 
Pervious to the kitten's intentions

It's unravelling coming soon

                                                                                                   ©Sheilagh Lee December 12, 2017

Image result for kitten picture under a christmas tree

Sunday, December 10, 2017

Please read and give generously to children in need at Christmas~Sean the Leprechaun~ A Christmas Story

Re-post from December of 2015; see my mother's story below and see what a little kindness can do for children and how it makes their Christmas and please if you can donate toys for Christmas for children they are in need this year and every year to make some child's season bright.

I was going across some of my beloved mother's papers yesterday, (the first time since she died) and I found a surprising thing she too had written about the Christmas that stuck in my mind when I was young. I think it's my Christmas present from her and now you can read it. My version of the story is included in my paperback and e-book Visions of Sugarplums

     In her version of the story she wrote of my imaginative nature;  she also included details I forgot.  It  did happen as she wrote them (in true fact I love her story)so I am going to give you another Christmas treat and post my mother's story for you. The only change to her writing? The Three Word Wednesday words included. The twist? It begins with a leprechaun. Yes, you read that right. Read on and enjoy. 

 Sean the Leprechaun~ A Christmas Story

             Sean was leprechaun. Actually to be completely honest he was just a stuffed doll. He’d been in the family for years and the children had never been allowed to play with him. He was hung in the window by a safety pin through his hat. Because of the children’s love of fairy tales over the years many tales had been made about him consequently the children began to believe he was a real leprechaun. In appearance he was quite ugly; about twelve inches tall; had long spindly legs, a sharp pointed nose and a disfigured face that had aged and discoloured to an ugly mahogany.

         For some unknown reason every time something bad was going to happen we would find him turned inward. I always blamed it on air currents but the children insisted he was warning us and that the pin hurt. Sean had tried to warn us when we travelled out to British Columbia that something was wrong by turning around in the car window and then we’d blown a tire. After that he also turned around when the car almost went over a cliff. My oldest son joked that the leprechaun was vengeful and the younger kids believed him.

         My husband insisted that the leprechaun wasn’t warning us Sean wasn’t vengeful or a savage, but a doll. That the tire had just blown and he’d made a mistake in geography getting too close to a cliff; but my young daughter, Sheilagh as she said her prayers that night said ...”and please tell Sean will get him a new suit if the car doesn’t break anymore.”

          She then said to me. “We can, can’t we Mommy?” I reassured her we could; then realized he was faded. I promptly forgot about it.

               Over the next few months we settled in and Sean was installed in the front window with a beautiful view of the mountains but he insisted on facing in. nothing went right the job my husband was offered caused allergic reactions and asthmatic attacks and then the old injury that had caused us to relocate reared again and my husband was hospitalized.

               During a family conference I explained how there wouldn’t be expensive presents and my oldest daughter blurted out to the younger ones there was no Santa and I had to admit that was true. My youngest daughter insisted with the surety of youth a child there was a Santa. That in fact she believed Daddy was sick because I hadn’t made Sean the suit I promised him and then of course she started crying about not getting a Chatty Cathy. She finished all of this with tears flowing down her face.

           The next day I took Sean down from the window and searching throw my scrap cloth and wool box. I found enough to make a new suit.
When the children came home from school they noticed right away that Sean was missing. Wanting to surprise them I told them Santa’s elves had the flu and Sean had gone to help him in return for a new Christmas suit. This made them happy and reaffirmed their belief in Santa. Even though they somehow understood even Santa didn’t have a lot of money either. They not only accept this idea but demanded bedtime stories of Sean and Santa.

         That Saturday I turned on a Santa television program for them and imagine my surprise when I heard Santa say,” All my elves are down with the flu and my friend Sean has come to help me.”
The camera panned to a doll that was the spitting imagine of Sean.
Muttering “I don’t believe it I went upstairs to look for Sean in my scrap basket. I took everything out piece by piece but I couldn’t find Sean. Following a sleepless night after sending the children to school I wondered where I could have lost him. I searched again and found Sean under a sock that needed darning. How I missed him the first second and gazillion time I don’t know.

         The next day my husband was released from the hospital came home and getting a licence shot a deer for Christmas dinner even though it hurt him to kill such a magnificent animal. We were happier. there was food for Christmas dinner.
Christmas morning Sean was back where he belonged in the window facing out, in his brand new suit. The doorbell rang at five a.m. and I found gaily wrapped presents outside the front door with the children’s names on them.  There had been a light snowfall overnight but the only tracks were hoof prints and two straight lines like those of a sleigh.

         We all stammered “What? Where? Why? How?”, as we looked  at each other in wonderment at the lack of human footprints and the two long lines where something big had rested.
The parcels were opened and to sounds of delight as it revealed a Chatty Cathy doll cuddled tightly, a pair of figure skates, a Bowie knife and a make-up mirror, a large toy crane and a model airplane.

         I found out later that the toys were supplied by an elderly lady who befriended the neighbourhood children and who had given all the children a Christmas party’ but neither she, nor anyone else could explain the lack of human footprints. Sheilagh was sure that she was Mrs. Santa Claus and had brought Sean back with her and the presents.

        Was Sean really a magical leprechaun? I am no longer sure. some things maybe coincidence but others have no explanation . The only thing I’m sure of its that it was the best Christmas ever.
By Shirley.W.

I hope you enjoyed my mother's story.  My daughter now has Sean and has promised him another new suit not bad since his last one was so long ago.

Merry Christmas!! Happy Holidays and please if you can help children in need at Christmas and throughout the year.

Friday, December 8, 2017

My #ThursThreads winning tale -More than a lifetime


More than a Lifetime

        I have lived many lifetimes; I am aware that each lifetime I’ve missed the mark of my reason for being here. I have been difficult, cranky and generally hard to be around.Why was I like that you ask? Each life I would meet her fall in love and then lose her…the woman who made me a better man; to disease or disaster, or to another man. No matter what I seemed to do it was inevitable. I decided this lifetime I would enjoy all my time with her and not be a sour man afterwards.  Maybe then instead of living life over and over again we could be together in the afterlife.
Tonight I found her again she was in the process of committing suicide.

“You’re better off here with me,” I told her.
“But you don’t even know me,” she cried.
“Maybe, but I will if you give me a chance,” I insisted.

She gave me the chance. We’ve been together for twenty years now the longest of any lifetime. She’s started to remember us now so I know our time is short. I went to the doctor’s this morning and it’s me that will be pulled away this time; but I hope and pray that all the good we’ve done in the last twenty years together will be rewarded. I wish for another lifetime together again. For it’s not a curse as I thought but a gift and I know I will always love her and she me.

©Sheilagh Lee December 7, 2017

Thursday, November 2, 2017

Untraceable -Part 3

    Untraceable -Part 3

      My name is Sheriff Bullet. People call me Gee for short. I’m the Sheriff of Driftwood, Colorado and I have been for the last year and a half. I’m a recent widower; my bride was murdered the day after our wedding. It’s a bit of a story; I met Tina a doctor and fell in love instantly with her. We dated for six months and married when I found out she was expecting our daughter.
         Tina had been placed in my orbit by a master criminal who wanted to keep tabs on the new sheriff and almost succeeded; but Tina made the mistake of falling in love with me which sealed her fate. The master criminal killed Tina, my unborn baby, and Tina’s brother, but I had managed to kill her by accident while fighting for her weapon.
By the way I also have custody of a five year old daughter, Stella-Marie with my first wife who is serving time in prison for trying to kill me. I know what you’re thinking this guy is a loser; he sure knows how to pick his wives doesn’t he? I swear I’m working on my failings.  Who I’m I kidding? It was part of keeping my job as a sheriff.  I have to see a therapist once a week. The nearby county investigators may have labelled the criminal’s death a good shoot; but they didn’t like that our emotions had been so easily corrupted and compromised by a drug supplier. We’ve been warned not to let ourselves get so easily tangled. Easy? Are they kidding? The mastermind behind it all had been one step ahead of us before I even arrived in Driftwood.

      I was the lucky one my friend Gordon Chum who had been the S.A.I.C. (the Special Agent in Charge) had been demoted and assigned to a desk for the last year.  I’d see him on weekends and holidays and he wasn’t very happy. With all that going on in the time I’d been at Driftwood, despite my moaning and complaining to my surprise I was bored. You know what they say about boredom don’t you? As Arthur Schopenhauer used to say ~Boredom is just the reverse side of fascination: both depend on being outside rather than inside a situation, and one leads to the other.

    The plane crash lead to another case of which I’m about to let you in on now and it all started with Penny seeing the crash , calling me and then going out to save them.

     I hurried to the scene after calling the FAA and brought some of my cops with me. We all began searching for the site that Penny had described. Deep in the forest we found the plane burning brightly a shattered piece of metal. The pilots were found were mangled and in pieces and the other three bodies broken looked like rag dolls had fallen from the sky. One seat was intact a short distance from the crash site. By our count two seats were missing.  Where were they and where was Penny?

     We searched the area and found to our surprise a single seat intact a short distance away the occupant; a woman in her thirties however was dead. There were ATV tracks near here but we’d have to examine them closer to figure out how old the tracks were.

Examining the woman I couldn’t believe it. I not only met this woman, before I knew this would be big news for this woman was Arnold Ivan, the software king’s daughter, Paris Ivan.
©Sheilagh Lee November 2, 2017

To be continued next year when book is released

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Untraceable -Part 2

“Sheriff Bullet? A plane has gone down in the forest near my property. You need to alert the FAA and then they can send the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) as it is protocol. We need to get some more officers out here to assist any recovery efforts. I’m on my way to help. Okay see you soon,” Penny said into her cell phone.

      Penny then tied up Bucky and entered the forest following the crackling sound. She hoped that the fire would not spread and trap them all.

       Penny heard the sound of moans and quickened her pace. Entering a clearing she spotted the wreckage. She at first though the small plane had broken into two pieces but then she realized it was three. It appeared that the pilots were dead; but as Penny looked around for passengers she saw a seat up in a tree. She would have to wait to save whoever was in that seat. Penny then spotted a woman still buckled into her seat. Her head was lacerated but she appeared to be breathing in and out from a distance. As Penny advanced on the woman she recognized her; she seen the woman’s pictures in all the tabloids, that golden blonde hair which normally fell to her shoulder in distinctive waves was now matted with blood and her signature fashion scarf around her neck also seemed coated with blood. That worried Penny she knew she had to get closer to the woman to checkout her injury and hopefully save the woman’s life.
Penny gasped as she got closer for she knew she was correct and this was Paris Ivan, the daughter of Arnold Ivan, the software king. As she advanced towards her Penny heard the sounds of an All-terrain vehicle and as she followed the sound she saw then proceed into the crash site.  Good she could use the help to find any other passengers she thought but before she could even get close enough to Paris the man dressed in black leather from head to foot, his head cover with a helmet snatched Paris’ scarf pulling it tight and began to strangle her.

“Stop, police officer,” Penny cried grabbing a rock since she didn’t have her service weapon.

      The man lifted his head and starred at her but didn’t stop. Then Penny heard anther ATV behind her and she turned her head slightly to see where I was unfortunately another man in black leather had snuck up on her and he struck a glancing blow across her head. Penny fell to the ground clutching her head and seeing double. She tried to regain her equilibrium but when she tried to stand she felt the blood rush to her head and she slumped in a stupor on the ground. Before she gave into the state of unconsciousness she heard, “Don’t kill her she’s a cop.”
©Sheilagh Lee October 17, 2017

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

Untraceable-Part 1

        Penny Ambercrombie loved her family’s ranch and she loved riding her horse; but she loved Driftwood even more. Frankly working for Sheriff Bullet the next year had been exciting; but she was happy that there had been a lull for the last few months. The tragedy of the sheriff losing his baby girl Tina-Marie had brought back too much to her of her own tragedy and losing her own daughter, Lorna to leukemia. She had even considered going back to her therapist but then she had discarded the idea. All she needed was to ride her horse, Bucky (real name Buchanan Stirlingshire the third). He had been a race horse at one time but he had never lived up to his reputation then he had grown older and the owner felt he was consuming more than he was worth. Penny had bought him before they could send him to the slaughterhouse. With love and attention Bucky had blossomed and was a fine horse for someone who was a rancher in their spare time like Penny was.

        There had been a changeover in the properties near the ranch as families had lost interest or the money to run big ranches anymore. She barely knew the neighbors anymore. She looked towards the east and saw forest and thanked the fact that developers hadn’t come forth and developed that land. The truth was the Ambercrombie’s owned part of the forest and were not about to part with it. Sometimes it felt like the only place Penny could be alone and one with nature. She’d ride Bucky to the edge and then tie him to a tree and just wander just a little into the forest to think. She wouldn’t be long and then Bucky wouldn’t mind.

        Penny let Bucky have his rein and they galloped towards the forest area in the edge of the Ambercrombie property; before they got their Penny pulled Bucky up short as she stopped to examine the sky. Penny had heard a sputter then watched as a small plane seemed to drop from the sky and then a load bang was heard as it crashed in deep in the forest near the Ambercrombie ranch.

        Penny took out her cellphone from her pocket and dialed the sheriff’s office where she worked. So much for her day off and thinking quietly in the forest soaking up nature; she thought and then felt selfish. It was possible whoever was on board that plane was already dead but maybe not so she had to do all to save them if she could.
©Sheilagh Lee October 11, 2017

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

Tuesday's Writing #No 13- Siren

        Tuesday's Writing  #No 13- Siren

Prompts this week: luminance, essential, capacity

        The woman stood on the cliff, her red gold waist length hair trail behind her in the wind. For a moment I was thunderstruck by her beauty, her bright luminance lit the cliffside as she stood in utter stillness. Suddenly she turned and her green eyes met my inquisitive one. it was essential that I speak with her and capture her likeness.
    “I’d like to paint you,” I blurted.
    “What do you mean by that?’
    “I don’t mean any disrespect.”
    “So you aren’t suggesting you paint me nude?”
    “What do you take me for? But if that’s what you prefer I can adapt,” I leered.
She blushed, swallowed and then said, “Clothing is not optional.”
    “I accept.”

        I painted her on the cliffside slowly turned to me, her green eyes challenging me. Her red gold hair flowed behind her fanning out in the breeze in all its crowning glory. We laughed talked and got to know each other as we had a picnic every day as I painted trying to capture her likeness. Her capacity for love, kindness and her inner light filled me like nothing had filled me before. 

       I received many accolades for my painting as it was displayed in an art show. Y agent labelled it “Siren on a cliff” Many wanted to buy the painting but I refused even though I had made the siren mine. I’ll never tire of looking at my siren challenging me. 
         ©Sheilagh Lee September 26, 2017

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Tuesday Writings No. #12- The Last Time

Tuesday Writings No. #12- The Last Time

Prompts this week: scribe, clandestine, toxic

       If you'd like to participate in Tuesday Writings please go to use the prompts and leave a comment on that page with a link to your blog and your name and you'll be included too.

The Last Time

       "That was the last time." I heard this line every day of the last ten years. Every word out of Jeff’s honeyed lips was a lie; but I’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. Every single time I’d thought he’d change he’d bring flowers and sweet words and I’d succumb to it forgiving him. I should have been smarter after all I had been a scribe of the court and I heard these toxic stories everyday  before I met him and left the job; but I thought I was above this I was smarter but I wasn't I was just a naive fool.

          Last month Jeff broke my arm; before that bones in my face. I had numerous injuries over ten years as he always accused me of clandestine affairs. I didn’t cheat on him, how could I? He held the key to the front door. I could go to a small garden in the backyard but the neighbours couldn’t see or hear me there for we were miles away from anyone. I hadn't spoken to anyone but Jeff in years all my friends and relatives had long since deserted me because of his nasty behaviour. I had no phone; no voice to the outside world. This morning he ordered me to make his breakfast after hitting me across the face. I dutifully made his breakfast and he’d eaten it telling me how good it tasted. Then he’d apologized just like he always did insisting it was the last time, promising me flowers. This time I answered back, “You’re right that was the last time!” as he writhed on the floor in agony and then succumbed.

 I planned what I would say to the police, “He brought the mushrooms; how did I know they were poisonous?” Either way I’d bought my freedom, I was ready.
©Sheilagh Lee September 19, 2017

Tuesday, September 12, 2017

Tuesday Writings No#11--Faith

Tuesday Writings No#11--Faith
Wondrous, discover, recipe

      My grandfather had died and I had been temporarily working at the family business for six months but my family was pressuring me to stay. The day I met Michaela I had worked late and I was starving so I planned on dining alone at my favourite restaurant. Met isn’t the correct word I rescued her from a mugger. After the police report we had a late dinner and got to know each other.
     She was hesitant to tell me about herself at first.Afraid I'd discover that she was a single mom and her baby daddy was in prison for murder she hesitantly told me. She thought that would chase me off; but I’d fallen for her and I didn’t want to let her go. she thought that wondrous and started to date me. We had only known each other a week when I asked her to marry me. She begged me to introduce her to my family first. That was a mistake. They hated her on sight telling me that Michaela would bankrupt me steal our family legacy. Angry, I left giving them the business and vowing never to speak to them again. Michaela urged me to make up with them but I stood firm.
Michaela cried and said, “I feel like a terrible person. You’ll regret getting together with me.”
“But I have faith in us.”

          Michaela married me. It was she who urged me to save the family business a year later. Her  family recipe for cookies passed from generation to generation made our cookie factory relevant again. 
      It’s been fifty years now since I met and married Michaela. The family loves her they say they could never survive without her. And our boys carry on the family tradition making their great grandmother's cookies.

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