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.

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.

If you'd like to join in for Tuesday Writings go to   and leave your url and name in comments to your story or poem.