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Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Observing the Coffee Shop People... And a Little Love and Passion - Final Entry

 Image courtesy of stockimages /FreeDigitalPhotos.net    

The final entry....This story is an  embarrassment in my attempt to write a romance story -  why I have published it, I am not sure. In conclusion - I can not write romance. I hope you enjoyed it or at least had a chuckle from it. I think I shall not try romance again.



September 20... 
Getting close to my birthday already, how old next? Twenty-seven no fifty-seven, but   who cares it’s only a crazy number.   Finished my latest story attempt, let’s see this will be rejection number what?  Or maybe published story number one. Who cares I’m enjoying the challenge, enjoying the writing, the creativity.  Best of all - I enjoy life!



© Copyright 2014   Eileen A Partak

Saturday, July 19, 2014

Observing the Coffee Shop People... And a Little Love and Passion - Entry 9

 Image courtesy of Sura Nualpradid /FreeDigitalPhotos.net
This started as a writing exercise as I sat at the coffee shop observing people for character development.

Reading over it one day I  decided to write a short story based on the characters.  I kept it in the form of a journal.

July 19th…
Crowded today and hot, makes it a good day for iced coffee.  Well Football Hero hasn’t been here for a while. Maybe this isn’t his regular store he could have just been passing through.  I probably should change coffee shops, seems to be about the right time for that. 
Now this man coming in isn’t bad.   He is talking about making sausage to the young girl at the next table.  Hmmm is making sausage a code statement for something else?  He must be my age and he is another one in good shape.  Very good shape!

Observation – people in good shape drink plain coffee- no whipped cream piled high over the cup - no huge hunks of coffee cake totaling a million calories each.

Sausage maker says he is sixty-seven, - wow my grandpa didn’t look like that come to think of it my father either.   He is talking about his granddaughters’ birthday. She is as old as my daughter. Another observation – maybe the coffee shop is the fountain of youth.

My energy detector is going off full throttle.  It’s him. Football Hero he’s back and looking better than ever today.  He must have been running today… so that is how he keeps in such great shape.  He is getting an iced coffee, number two thing in common.  Should I say something?  Yes…. No….remember high school’s embarrassing moments?


Getting the courage to ask the football star to the turnaround dance.   Back in those days girls waited for boys to approach them.  Once a year in the spring the school would sponsor a dance to give the girls the opportunity to feel the fear of asking for a date – feel the rejection that the boys felt when they didn’t meet the standards expected of them.   Of course I did get to experience all that rejection and humiliation and here I am fifty-six and still scared. Guess I earned scars from the whole experience.  Well remember this is the twenty-first century, talk to him what can happen?  I am not proposing marriage, but hmm, I think I would want to propose a little encounter, more than just a weak little ‘hi there, how are you’?  Just go up to him and say ‘haven’t I seen you in here before, care to join me’?  Oh my I’m going to die on the spot if he rejects my invite. Make Note: Better wait, no can’t afford to wait...

© Copyright 2014   Eileen A Partak

Thursday, June 12, 2014

Observing the Coffee Shop People... And a Little Love and Passion - Entry 8

Image courtesy of Jeroen van Oostrom/FreeDigitalPhotos.net       
This started as a writing exercise as I sat at the coffee shop observing people for character development.

Reading over it one day I  decided to write a short story based on the characters.  I kept it in the form of a journal.


June 12th…
Ok something has to give sooner or later.  Stories keep being rejected, but remember Stephen King’s spike holding all his rejection slips.  Hold on and don’t give up, my time has not yet come.  Maybe I need that partner who will find my breakthrough story I tossed in the trash and he tells me how it will be my story to lead me to success.  Yeah sure, I should be so lucky.  What do I want, luck in publishing or luck in love? Maybe both, is that too much to ask for?

Get that coffee. A good jolt to the system is always the cure to what ails you.  Oh my, the coffee counter girl has green and white streaks in here hair, must be a real company girl.  Don’t have to worry about here thinking I’m strange for the way I take my coffee or bagel. 

Did I ever tell anyone that I feel energy from people?  Well I do very strongly. That is why I have such a hard time going to conventions and seminars.  Conventions especially where people are from all over the country or other parts of the world.  People who are looking for a quick sexual encounter just because they are there and can get away with it. And after all what are conventions for, at least for some of the population. That activity emits a lot of energy, energy that I pick up very strongly and can be very difficult for me to handle. So I stay away from all the writers’ conventions, just to keep myself calm. Is that why I can’t get published? 

Someone here has some strong energy I am detecting it right now.   Don’t think they are here for a tryst, but they have something going on.  Who is it? My, oh my, this man coming up to the counter for his coffee.  Wow, tall, very broad shoulders tapering down to a pretty nifty butt I must say. Think some twenty something jocks could be jealous of that, or maybe give them hope they can look that way at this age.  He must be around sixty, and well preserved, more hope for getting older.  He does smell good, haven’t been close to a good scented man for a long, long time.  Oh my God he has blue eyes. I feel faint like a teenager next to the football hero. I think I am getting a hot flash.  No wait I took my hormones today, must be a flash of lust.  Like he is going to even notice me, silver haired with my skin thinning and loosing its elasticity, but look he has graying hair and I must ad a little skin showing on the top of his head.  I never would have thought bald would end up looking sexy and appealing. Getting older sure does change your view of things. Remember Grandpa, remember Chemistry book man, they were not looking at the ‘young chicks’. He drinks his coffee the same way I do dark roast with a shot of espresso, our first thing in common.  How romantic!   Oh, he is using his wife’s coffee club card; oh no he asked if he could change it to his she has passed.  Poor man, I know how that feels, should I give him my condolences?  Oh come on, snap out of it.
Get control of yourself silly old girl.  Take your coffee not his. Oh how embarrassing. I hope he didn’t notice.  Go to your table.  Write.  Drink coffee.  Daydream about Football Hero...

© Copyright 2014   Eileen A Partak

 


Thursday, May 29, 2014

Observing the Coffee Shop People... And a Little Love and Passion - Entry 7

Image courtesy of Jeroen van Oostrom/FreeDigitalPhotos.net       
This started as a writing exercise as I sat at the coffee shop observing people for character development.

Reading over it one day I  decided to write a short story based on the characters.  I kept it in the form of a journal.

May 29th…..
It is morning, the coffee shop just opened.  The coffee shop people start early.  Made my rounds through the bargain books.  ‘Last Chance’ the sign says as the books are lined up on the shelves ready to march out the door after being rejected by the reading people.  Losing to the self made best sellers, the book tours the media has used to manipulate the minds of the consumer into believing this makes the book.   ‘Best of the Year…. Incredible piece of writing…. Better writer than ‘who ever’ yeah…sure.   Sorry last chance; guess you needed a better PR company.  Guess my writing frustration is showing again. 

Settling down with a bagel and a tall cup of dark roast coffee with a shot of espresso.  Why do they look at you like you are some sort of unknown creature when you don’t want cream in the coffee and no cream cheese or butter for the bagel… I am different…so?

Ok… who is here today?

Morning seems to bring contractors, businessmen, elderly, everyone. Different types of people at different times of the day just have to find your time and type.  Seems the coffee shop is the 21st century meeting place. Who would have thought a five-dollar cup of coffee could do so much.

Elderly man reading.  This man looks like a great grandpa.  My, he has a smile on his face as he reads, must enjoy reading.  Basic Chemistry…I guess he must really enjoy reading, poor lonely old guy.  Oh and who is this?  Classy elderly girlfriend, now I know why the big smile.  So, a tryst with the elderly, good to know there is still hope and excitement when getting older. I need all the encouragement I can get.  The older I get and the more I observe, the more I realize that passion and sex does not die. Seems by watching them it can get better.   I think it must be more intense.  I’m not that old, but this knowledge is good to have.  I guess he is recharging his mind, reading a science book along with a classy girlfriend…hmm the possibilities of life are wonderful.  Never give up on it….it?     Life?  Romance? Sex? Writing?...


© Copyright 2014   Eileen A Partak

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Observing the Coffee Shop People... And a Little Love and Passion - Entry 6

 Image courtesy of Jeroen van Oostrom/FreeDigitalPhotos.net       
This story started as I sat at the coffee shop on writing days observing people for character development.

Reading over it one day I  decided to write a short story based on the characters.  I kept it in the form of a journal.


 April 22….
Focus!  You must stay focused.  Everyone tells me that. Why can’t I?  The coffee shop is slow today.  Many students.  Do they understand how precious their youth is?  There are many men here alone.  Why so many men out in the day alone?  Sometimes I think men read more than women do.  That’s what it is today, older men – busy reading.  You look at them they seem like Grandpas, still men but older men.  Do they still have the desires of the young men?  Grandpa is there looking through his sports magazine.  He doesn’t take his vest off, baseball type cap, why do they always wear those caps?

No one fears the older man, he is just the grandpa and that is no threat.  Now everyone looks at the table with the younger men and the girl.  They must be the ones with nothing but sex on their minds. Yes driven by hormones only.   You can see that by the silly grin on his face.  Sure after they leave here they are off for a romp. It is expected, yes youth.  Sex is so wasted on them.   Look at Grandpa, he doesn’t have the grin, he isn’t salivating over Miss Cheerleader with the short skirt yelling ‘Look at me.’  Maturity – yes maturity understands sex, desire, what it is really about.   It is not just hormone driven. The experience of life understands the importance, knows it isn’t just the moment of climax, knows how to find the deep feelings knowing that romance must accompany sex, understanding must accompany sex, caring must be there to make it complete.  Knowing the total person, everything about them must accompany sex. Sex for the sake of sex is nothing.  Sex, deep passion, comes with understanding it is just not for your own pleasure, pleasing your partner is the most important, then that alone will please you totally, sexually, spiritually, in every way.  Mind and body are really connected into one; one cannot be totally happy and pleased without the other feeling the same. 

Grandpa doesn’t look at Miss Cheerleader. He looks over at the mature women, the one who carries herself with grace, dignity, beauty, knowing what her life is, knowing what is important and what pleases her.   The two of them, yes, real passion would develop, real caring, real love.  The youth, silly as they are, they think lust belongs to them.  Lust, passion and love belong to the experienced, yes the mature know.  Society has it wrong; the youth will destroy it, give love and sex back to those who know what it really is. 


Maybe being alone for so many years has frustrated me.  Spent all that time raising the kids, working, taking no time for me.  Now where is life?  Retirement is advertised as the time to do things, what things?  Daughter’s divorce will be final soon, son now on his second wife, but I think he has a good sex life with this one.  A good sex life is important for the young. For the young at heart too?  Again, focus on the writing. I can still be a writer at this age.  I must have sex on my mind today.  Am I a frustrated writer, or a frustrated lover?   Need more coffee, now!    Make note: I need sex...

© Copyright 2014   Eileen A Partak

Friday, February 14, 2014

Observing the Coffee Shop People... And a Little Love and Passion - Entry 5

Image courtesy of Jeroen van Oostrom/FreeDigitalPhotos.net       
This story started as I sat at the coffee shop on writing days observing people for character development.

Reading over it one day I  decided to write a short story based on the characters.  I kept it in the form of a journal.


February 14….
Today is Valentines Day. I think I see all kinds of love in this coffee shop.  The world is so blessed to have all types of love to fit every life.   Wrote a little poem or sonnet or something for today.

            I hear your voice in the foggy mist
            I search my love to find you
            I know you are there I feel your presence
            But I can’t find you.
            My heart, my mind, my soul,
            Filled with your energy
            Fog is between us
            I reach my love but cannot touch you
            I hear your voice I cry out - my words bounce back
            Fog is thick
            I search my love to find you
            I need to see you
            Need to hear you
            Need to touch you
            Fog between us -
            Stops us cold.


Not sure what that means.  Not sure what this day means.  I see no one here today to write up as a character.  Coffee shops, writing, love, desire, passion, and age maybe it all means nothing.  Get more coffee… and chocolate....

© Copyright 2014   Eileen A Partak

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Holding Memories

Image courtesy of mistermong /FreeDigitalPhotos.net
“If it’s any consolation for you, she died instantly.”  The words of the police officer played over in Rex Bernard’s head.  It was their tenth anniversary. They had plans to meet for dinner to celebrate.  It was bad enough the accident occurred on their anniversary but they had a ridiculous argument that morning over where to dine. He insisted she drive and meet him at the restaurant near his office.  Her argument was she didn’t like driving in unfamiliar areas, but she finally agreed.  Jill got lost.   She impetuously drove along the foreign streets trying to find the restaurant and missed the stop sign. A truck hit the side of her car.  She died instantly.

It was his first day back to the office since Jill’s death the month before. All the sympathetic stares and well-meaning words had exhausted him.  He couldn’t wait to return home to rest.  But he was reluctant to enter the empty house. It felt so cold and lonely since Jill was gone. A light rain dotted the sidewalk as he made his way to the door. He hesitated a moment before turning the key, not sure if it was the rain or tears that moistened his face.

Flipping on the light he saw something glistening on the kitchen table.  Feeling a sudden wave of vertigo he grabbed the doorframe to steady himself.   There on the kitchen table sat a gold frame holding a picture of him and Jill taken the night he proposed.  Rex picked it up looking at the image of the happy couple gazing at each other with eyes silently speaking love. He clutched the picture to his chest and wept.  He was puzzled at how the picture appeared on the kitchen table - and why?

The next night, still insisting on blocking happiness from his life, he was hit with another surprise.  Small pink roses sat on the kitchen table – the kind that made up Jill’s wedding bouquet.  Rex sat down at the table picking up the bouquet breathing in the delicate scent.  He caressed the soft fresh flowers thinking of their wedding day, picturing how beautiful Jill was and how happy they had been.  Again he sat weeping, blaming himself for her death and wondering how and why the flowers appeared.

Rex hurried home from work the next night to see what surprise awaited him.  On the kitchen table sat an opened cookbook.  He picked it up, “BBQ Meat Balls” he chuckled as he fingered the pages stained with BBQ sauce.  The first meal she made after they had gotten married. He laughed thinking of that night, picturing Jill and the kitchen splattered with the sauce.  He remembered how he wiped her cheek and kissed her sauce-splattered nose.  These memories were replacing the pain-filled places in his heart with joy.  But again he resisted the warmth of memories. Instead he embraced pain and regret as the sentinel to keep happiness from entering his devastated heart.

Nothing showed up for several weeks, until one night something sparkled brightly on the table.  Rex could not believe what he saw; there it was Jill’s wedding ring.   Hoping to ease his pain he had buried the ring with her. To keep it, he thought, would cause too much grief. Now all this was too much for him to handle.  Who was playing this trick on him? How were these items appearing? 

Later that night Rex was awaken by a dazzling light cascading over the bedroom walls.  There in the light blue radiance, looking beautiful like a princess stood Jill.  She reached her arms out toward him and in a soft voice said, “Rex don’t be tortured by my death.  Death is just another step in our existence.  I did not leave you. I only died and moved from this life to experience the beauty of the next.   One day we will be together again.  Be happy. Don’t waste life with regrets and sadness. Fill you heart with happiness and memories of the love we shared.  I left those memories for you, to remind you our time together was precious.  Keep the memories close. Remember me but enjoy and live the life you have now.”  She then blew him a kiss and disappeared. 

Rex sat in the dark room feeling a loving warmth embrace him.  He would hold these loving memories his wife gave him in his heart for all time. 

Friday, January 10, 2014

Observing the Coffee Shop People... And a Little Love and Passion - Entry 4

 Image courtesy of Sura Nualpradid /FreeDigitalPhotos.net
This started as a writing exercise as I sat at the coffee shop observing people for character development.

Reading over it one day I  decided to write a short story based on the characters.  I kept it in the form of a journal.

January 10….
Starting again.  Trying to get the creative feelings going for the New Year.  Writing every day…haha…a joke I think.  Am I looking for something or not? 

Seems to be baby day at the café.  A couple with a grandbaby, they are much older people than me.  There are also two men with two children.  A cute little toddler girl and an infant in the seat still with a snowsuit on, I can’t tell if the infant is a boy or girl.  I think they are a gay couple, just seem like they are partners and not baby sitting for their wives.  They are in early 40’s, African- American.   The one man knows how to take care of the children very well; the other man was looking at cookbooks.  The kids are so cute, they seem happy, the whole family seems happy.  The little girl is waving at me. I don’t think she knows I’m white or that I’m fifty-six or that I still have such lustful sensual thoughts and feelings, at my age.  No one knows that, shouldn’t that be gone when silver moves into the hair and retirement come?  Maybe I’m odd.  I wave back at the little girl.

Look at them, such a happy family the kids are so cute you can see they are so loved.  Some would criticize this family consisting of two dads thinking it so awful for the kids.  I don’t know, isn’t love just love.  Those kids could have “mommy & daddy” and just exist with no love, only hate, misery and abuse given to them.  And the two men, they seem so content with each other.  A partner to go through life with to share the pain and the love, having someone to share life with sounds so ideal.   Make note:  need a life partner.

I am drinking a Chi Tea Latté; the old man at the counter does not know how to make it very well.  Aretha Franklin is not here, wasn’t here before Christmas either. I wonder if she was the one who fell. I heard that someone fell.  I hope not. I miss Aretha, she likes my hair, and I need people to remind me I still am good.

The Grandma must be a great-grandma.  She is having fun with the baby.  She has no worries, raised her kids now she is having a great time with the baby. Two different generations, two that can get along and are sometimes forgotten and they both can learn so much from each other.  Society needs to respect elderly people they have much love to give to children. Will I ever be a grandma?  I’m old enough, oh but my mind is twenty-six and I still have lustful sensual thoughts and feelings. Grandmas can’t have those. Can they?  ....

© Copyright 2014   Eileen A Partak

Friday, December 6, 2013

Observing the Coffee Shop People... And a Little Love and Passion - Entry 3


 Image courtesy of Sura Nualpradid /FreeDigitalPhotos.net
This story started as I sat at the coffee shop on writing days observing people for character development.

Reading over it one day I  decided to write a short story based on the characters.  I kept it in the form of a journal.


December 6….
Been busy preparing for the holidays now.   Worked very hard on hiking story, finished it and sent it out to several friends to read.  This could be a mistake since these friends are not writers.

Here I am, back at the coffee shop.  Need to clear up my writer’s block.   I get scared sometimes – maybe I have no ideas for stories; or I could have too many.  Maybe this whole crazy notion to be a writer in my retirement years is just that, a crazy notion.  I must want something out of this part of life.

Trying to write. I have been exercising to motivate my mind.  Physical activity and the brain must be connected some how, though I certainly haven’t found the connection out running the track.  Keep ‘looking for the words’. Where are they?

Today’s characters…two old people.

She intensely reads the paper.  Dresses for comfort not for style, but is style important when you are elderly?   Her bulky sweatshirt seems to be the only means of keeping the cold winter temperatures away.  Her stocking cap sits snuggly on her short thin gray hair.  Maybe no one told her that her hair was pretty.  She has an Eleanor Roosevelt look to her.  You can see at no time in her life was she a beauty, but her intense concentration on her newspaper shows a search for knowledge, for information.  She defiantly does not want to live her life uninformed.  To her being ignorant to the facts of the world around her would be a violation of life.

Her husband approaches the table after searching the bookstore.  He is also a well-seasoned reader.  Odd couple they are.  Even in his advanced years it can be seen he has always been better looking than her.   Society always wonders why is a good-looking man with such a homely woman? 

Question of mankind again: why must the woman be beautiful?   Why do we question this situation when it exists, homely woman - good looking-man?  Look at birds; the peacock is the stunning bird while the peahen is the drab and plain bird, but look at what she can produce.  The ugly man with the beautiful woman, good for him they say.  The handsome man with the ugly woman raises the question, what is wrong with him?  Has anyone ever thought some people may look at the inner soul and not the outer wrapping?  Many wonderful people are overlooked just because they are not beautiful.  Shame on us!....



© Copyright 2013   Eileen A Partak

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Observing the Coffee Shop People... And a Little Love and Passion - Entry 2

Image courtesy of Sura Nualpradid /FreeDigitalPhotos.net
This started as a writing exercise as I sat at the coffee shop observing people for character development.

Reading over it one day I  decided to write a short story based on the characters.  I kept it in the form of a journal.

November 5….

Haven’t written or studied writing for a week.   The process does make me think young.   It does put me in an emotional slump if I don’t write…so write! 

Make room for writing. Make room for studying how to write and make room for research.  Bought study books and some sort of writing software today.  What am I looking for now, a new career as a writer or a new hobby?  Looking for something, maybe answers.  All these years of working all these years of living, there must be some answer to something I want to know.  But what do I want to know?

Who will be my character study today?  There, the Coffee Shop Couple –
They are young, but been together for a while, probably were high school sweethearts before marrying.  He is very good looking and in good shape.  She seems to have been pretty once, maybe the “Prom Queen”. Years have put pounds on her, so many she is on her way to being handicapped, has trouble walking. 

They sit and read, they must make the coffee shop/book store a regular habit.  I should talk I think I’m a regular now.  They comment on their reading but are pretty much in their own “cell”.  Him especially.  She makes comments he faintly listens, but he still loves her, kisses her when she needs his help getting off the chair. But he is missing something, he lives comfortable but needs a more charged emotional, physical life, it shows on his face and in his eyes. 

How does it happen?  How does love move into such drudgery?   Shouldn’t we always care, shouldn’t we always try.  What makes passion and desire take a nap with the one we thought would keep it alive?  Do we live too long?  Make too many personality changes so we out grow people, move on from what we felt and thought was our life dream.  Do our social rules stop us from letting our human side live as it was meant to live?

Make note: examine humans, their daily social routine and desires, both controlled and non-controlled.  Get more coffee...



© Copyright 2013   Eileen A Partak

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Eternal Ballerina

Image courtesy of sattva /FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Ballet was her only passion in life
Then he entered one cold autumn night
In the front row eyes fixed only on her

Back stage that night he came to meet her
As love fluttered inside both of their hearts
Now a new passion came to her life

Every night he came to watch her dance
While no other she saw in the room
Her performance on stage only for him

He asked for her to love only him
Love for him only was all she desired
Together forever they would dance

Late one October night he was to meet
In the parlor to take her away
There she waited ready to give him her heart

Hours soon passed as pain grew in her heart
Where was he at this night so important?
Dancing she would until they could meet

She danced and danced on that Halloween Eve
Soft music filling the room all night
Patiently she waited for her only love

Tonight she watches for that one love
Hoping he will show up for her this time
As she waits for him to take her away
Every year on Halloween Eve


© Copyright 2013   Eileen A Partak



                                                                               video courtesy of Andy Partak Imagery 






Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Observing the Coffee Shop People... And a Little Love and Passion - Entry 1

Image courtesy of Sura Nualpradid /FreeDigitalPhotos.net
This started as a writing exercise as I sat at the coffee shop observing people for character development.

Reading over it one day I  decided to write a short story based on the characters.  I kept it in the form of a journal.



October 29….
It’s two days after my fifty-sixth birthday…oh… almost said twenty-six but that is how I feel inside.  It is hard some days to keep feeling that I have time to reach a goal.  Yes, I feel young, and then I pass the mirror and see time has not forgotten me.   Sure my hair is silver but I was in my twenties when that started, premature I’d say then, but not now.   My face doesn’t have the river of wrinkles some women my age have, but anyone can tell at first glance that I belong to AARP.

Now here I am sitting at the coffee shop that is inside the bookstore, sipping on a large dark coffee.  Bought another book today, trying to purchase a new book each week.  Keep reading every day. Keep writing every day this is the goal for my new life. Retirement and living fifty-six years - I have to have a plan.

The clerk at the coffee shop is very friendly.  An African-American woman in her late 40’s, maybe early 50’s, plump with short curly hair, glasses and a classic face, regular looking not a beauty but not unattractive. She would be the type that would dress up well.   Seems to be confidant, caring, would be the person you want for your friend. Kind of reminds me of Aretha Franklin, yes she is my Aretha Franklin.  Her words to me as she handed me my coffee was “Your hair is so pretty.”  Fifty-six, yes I do need to hear those words.

Becoming a writer at this age is not unheard of.  Baby Boomers can achieve anything we want. We are a positive group, but try telling that to the young generation, they are in charge now.  So I dream seeing my first novel on the bestseller list - sure that is a dream.

I thought coming to the coffee shop might give me inspiration to become that writer.  Keep a journal they say, so I’m starting a journal.  If I hadn’t given up my dream of writing to be a wife and mother maybe I could look over to a whole section in the bookstore just for my novels - again in my dreams.

Observe people this will create characters, this will help me be a writer and will also keep me friendly.  Be friendly and friendly energy comes to you!  Whatever.  I’m fifty-six now, what can I say - be friendly - think young.   Oh please don’t let me be old and fade away.

Make note: Come to coffee shop once a week for inspiration. Write during the rest of the week...




© Copyright 2013   Eileen A Partak

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Captured Fire - Part 5

Image courtesy of suphakit73 /FreeDigitalPhotos.net
This is the Fifth
installment of the 
short story 
Captured Fire

This story is the story of a nine-year-old boy, Robbie,who enters a magical world where he learns about the meaning of life, friendship, and respect for others.

This installment is the book Robbie must read.

“Legend of Promise”

Many years ago a flower fairy was promised in marriage to a firefly prince. The fairies had special powers and so did the fireflies.  A marriage between the two species would merge their magic and make them much stronger in facing the hardships of life.

Ninnea was not the typical flower fairy. She was always looking for adventures and wandered off many times. One day as she wandered far from the woods of oak, which was the boundary for young flower fairies, a young human named Arthur captured her.  He kept her for several weeks treating her with respect and kindness.  During this time she could not help falling in love with him because of his kind heart.  One day he let her go back to her land, for he thought it was not right to keep her away from her home where her family must be very worried.

Ninnea never forgot him and his kind heart. On the eve of her marriage to the firefly prince she tried to run away back to the young man who captured her heart.  The king’s guard caught her as she tried to leave the forest and brought her before the king and the prince. She told her intended she could not marry him and that she wanted to return to the land above to find her true love.

The prince was furious wondering how she could talk to, let alone love, a Land-one.  For centuries the Land-ones had tortured and killed the fireflies. He told her that if she left all the magic powers she had would disappear and those of the firefly kingdom. Marriages between the fireflies and fairies would no longer be permitted.    Ninnea did not care, for the love in her heart for Arthur was deep and true, much stronger than her desire for magical powers, and her mind too clouded with love to consider what it would do to the fireflies. The king finally granted her request, but told her that the first male offspring born to her family must be surrendered to them. He would be kindhearted and help them spread the word of love and respect for life. He could return to his own land only if he proved worthy of his purpose, if not he would become a firefly forever. At this time the firefly kingdom would regain their magic and the two groups could once again marry.

Ninnea promised and was let go to find her true love and become a Land-one.  She was made human size and left at the grove of oak trees, alone and frightened hoping that Arthur would soon find her.  He found her that afternoon and was so happy to see that she had returned to him. Later that year they were married and built a little house at the edge of the oak forest.  The next year they had a baby.  Ninnea and Arthur had five more children, all girls, not one boy.  Ninnea felt sad that the promised one would never come to save the land where she grew up.  She feared her old home, family, and friends would die and be forever forgotten because of her selfishness.

Arthur knew the story of how she was released to come find him and the promise she had made to the king and prince.  He comforted her by saying it would happen someday, if not a male born to them to serve the purpose, it would be the son of one of their daughters or one of her children or their children.  But an offspring of theirs would some day be the promised one to fulfill the purpose and enlighten the human race to respect all life no matter what form it took.

Ninnea and Arthur never had a son, but loved all their daughters and taught them to respect life.   Their daughters and the daughters of their daughters never had a son, but all passed on the story of Ninnea and the promise to give a male offspring to the fireflies in order to save their world.


***
Robbie finished the story right at the stroke of ten moons.  He laid down in the bed and wondered what this story had to do with him.   King Huron and Rosella told him he would know his purpose soon. That night he dreamed of fairies, fireflies, Ninnea and Arthur and all their daughters.  Nana Peters was also in his dream, at least he thought it was Nana, only she was young and beautiful and looked like a fairy

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© Copyright 2013   Eileen A Partak

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Alternate Living

"Be whoever you want to be, do whatever you want to do.” That is what the advertisement said. I figured I’d give it a try; what did I have to lose? I was alone now, my husband left for parts unknown to find himself, my son was grown on his own. I needed to find love; after all there wasn’t much time left I just celebrated my fiftieth birthday.  Some friends said they had gone to this site for fun and pleasure and urged me to do the same. It was called Alternate Life and it cost you nothing unless you wanted to own land with a furnished house, buy clothes, all the real trappings of life.

Today I decided was the day to get on-line and try.  First they asked for my name and birthday.  I was a little nervous about this but the terms and agreement said all information was confidential. Next I had to pick if I was to be male or female, well I have always been female so I thought I should stick with the gender I knew. 

Pick an alternate first name: This was strange to name myself.  Well I guess I should try something young, exotic, mysterious, sexy, that would be me.  Smokey, that sounded sexy-cute, or maybe because the cat jumped on my lap I just named myself after her.

Pick a last name from the list: Not many of them were anything I could even pronounce but I suppose that didn’t matter. Difference, I guess I should have that name after all this was certainly different for me.

Pick a fantasy body:   A thumbnail gallery of faces and bodies were presented to choose from; now this was going to be fun how often can you choose how you look.

Sitting with anticipation to start my alternate life I studied the newly created Smokey Difference.  She was tall, blond, blue-eyed, a body bigger in some areas and smaller in others, this was totally unlike my real life body. Ready… set… hit enter… loading…done! I had to be crazy, mental breakdown, menopause, something unusual for sure was happening to me.  But after all I needed to make a change, needed life to be exciting, new and different.

I spent several days on-line at a spot called Newcomers Training Area. Here it was all about learning basic skills like how to walk and communicate, how to dress, just finding out how to function in this life.  It was a beautiful world full of beautiful people all walking around with little bubbles over their heads announcing their name.  Real life should be like this, everyone friendly, everyone perfect.

Finally the day came to move on to the “real” alternate world. I picked a place to start where Smokey Difference would officially begin her new life; of course it was a mall. Smokey was the same as all women; she didn’t have a thing to wear.  Getting new clothes and a new hairdo, now she was ready to conquer the world.

I couldn’t believe how addicting this could be.  There were shops, houses, parks, anything you could think of in the real world it was here and all you had to do was pick the place and with a keystroke, zoom …you where there.  I started making friends, female and male. I would communicate everyday with them; I loved this glorified 3D chat room. My life was interesting and fun for a change.

One night I discovered the Romantic Getaway. It was a beautiful mansion with romantic music, ladies in flowing gowns and men in tuxedos.  I felt like a girl again standing around in my long ruby red formal gown waiting to be asked to dance by handsome perfect men, all while sitting in my pj’s in front of my laptop. We would talk like anyone on a date, at least what I remembered a date was like. Flirting, talking, having fun in this fantasy persona, and always keeping the real person a secret.

One night Prince Strongheart entered my life. It was a slow night, no one asking me to dance, I felt rather depressed thinking maybe I needed to change my looks a little, longer hair, bigger chest maybe. Then he walked in.  Just the name made my real life heart race.  He was tall with black hair and the bluest eyes I could imagine on any man real or not. He walked right over to me and asked me to dance, my fingers were shaking over my keyboard wondering if I should do this. What could happen after all I was on my laptop in my living room and who knew where in the world this person was, so I accepted.  He was charming, a real prince. He said all the right words I wanted so much to hear in my real life.  Talking and dancing, it was three in the morning before I knew it and how I hated to say good night.  His cartoon person kissed mine and he wished me sweet dreams saying his would be beautiful, like me. I couldn’t wait until the next night to find him, and I did and each night and morning for the next month after that. Time moves much faster in this alternate life, a day is a week, a week is a month, a month a year.  All I knew was I wanted to spend every waking moment with Prince Strongheart, he was the man I was looking for.

Virtual romance, I had heard of it but never thought of participating, and now I no longer knew real from fantasy.  Funny how little cartoon people on a screen moving in amorous loving ways can seem so real.  But then it was the words, the words being typed on that keyboard the words my ears and heart wanted so much to hear.

We talked a little about us, discovered we lived close to each other, only about twenty-five miles away. We still didn’t know our real names, or what our professions in real life were, but our hearts had merged together. The forbidden words had been exchanged; I love you.   Soon this was followed by the big question, should we meet in real life?  After a moment of hesitation, a very short moment, I agreed to meet with him, why not I knew him so well we made passionate love every night.

It was all set Friday after work we were to meet at the coffee shop not far from my office.  He would be waiting for me in the back booth. I couldn’t miss him he would be holding a single red rose and his face would glow with the love he had for me, so he said. All day my mind was in a fog thinking of him, his black hair his blue eyes the handsome face. I realized this was a little cartoon man I was describing. I had no idea what the real man looked like, but I didn’t care because I was madly, deeply, truly in love.  His words, the way we talked through the night, the few things we knew we had in common was what I fell in love with, looks didn’t seem to matter to me now. We knew each other totally, knew our souls, our minds all with no prejudgment regarding looks. We loved each other for the real person; this is what love is about, how could it be wrong.

After work I walked up to the door of the coffee shop; it was ten minutes after five.  I took a deep breath, shaking and my heart pounding at a rapid pace I walked into the shop.  The scent of coffee and warm cookies caressed my senses as I walked with terrified confidence to the back of the shop.  There I spied the beautiful long stemmed red rose peeking around the corner of the back booth. I made my way toward him floating on a cloud of love and anticipation, not scared just feeling safe and warm to finally meet my lover face-to-face.  I stopped at the booth that held my heart’s desire and with a slightly sexy smile I looked down at him ready to say all the loving words I had practiced all day.

I stood there in shock hearing myself scream out, “Jason!? Oh no… I think …we have a problem.”

A look of terror washed over his face, his  voice  shook as he whispered timidly, "Mom?"


Ó 2011 Eileen A Partak

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Heat

Lying in my bed
hot and moist from the summer heat
waiting for a warm wind
to caress my body to delight
Still nothing at my window
wait I will for as long as it takes
for one gust of wind
to satisfy me for the duration
I remember the cold winter
how I hungered for summer
now craving for only one moment
to be relieved of the heat within



Ó 2011 Eileen A Partak