Signature Scent

 

You told me,

once upon a time,

how you despised the scent of coconut.

(as if the small hard fruit itself had offended you)

 

I never asked for an explanation,

but eager to please

and

preconditioned to seek your approval

I banished my menagerie of pots and bottles

to the dark (deep) corners of my vanity.

 

Replacing them with the aromas of vanilla and honeysuckle  peach

on my inner thigh,

hopeful for your kiss.

When I was rewarded with a finger -traced peck I suppose I called it even

and forgot all

about the lotions-

potions- that defined me.

 

Until

Life shifted, like sand on a July beach.

I shivered in the wicked cold of the winter I’d been thrust into

by your washed hands

with the bouquets of Spring doing nothing to warm me.

 
As a child of sun-drenched days, salty-sweet kisses and copper skin,

progeny of light dimpled waves and air pregnant with moisture and Coppertone,

my husk yearned for beaches and chlorine ridden pools of water.

 

They say smell conjures our memories more quickly than any other sensation.

What I  do remember is

hazy,

hot

making me … umm…

humid

sunshine spreading itself along the lines of my body,

deep wheat(y) ales

your smile that warmed my extremities

but I can’t recall the aromas of our rendezvous.

 

Sights and touches;

what I felt, what you saw

what we said

all comes back so fiercely

I am sure my sniffer must be stuffed up.

 

Until I reach for the (coconut) cream I’d abandoned

pop the cap,

squeeze the exotic into my open palm and breathe in…

 

the sweetness sinks readily into my skin

soothing the everlasting burn of you…

Oh.

it’s been bananas all along.

 

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For Master Class I actually picked the word last week and never got around to writing for it (Sorry SAM!)

So this week I used both words: coppertone and preconditioned. 

 

 

 

Now You See Me, Now You Don’t

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He watched Wakeford take a deep draw from the mug and then another.

“It won’t be long now.” Amriel mused, strangely satisfied with his choice.

Well aware of Raguel’s watch the angel inched closer to the hallway and his only chance to escape.

“Stop.”

Amriel halted at the hiss in Raguel’s voice.

“The council is requesting your presence, my friend.”

Amriel chuckled, “Yes. I would imagine they would, my friend.”

The senior guardian frowned and reached for him, “You’ll come quietly then?”

Amriel nodded but continued down the hallway with one eye on Wakeford who had taken on a dreamy, punch drunk look and the other on a gilded mirror hanging in the middle of  the foyer that had begun to shimmer.

It was starting.

Raguel tsked, “Look what you’ve done.”

“I did it for Jane.”  Amriel shot back and flung his arms wide, as he did so; his whole hand plunged into the surface of the smoky mirror followed by the rest of his body.

Raguel grappled with the empty air, snatching at nothing.

He was gone.

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Continued from my last installment of The Angel Sagas.

 

For the Master Class monthly prompt:

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I missed the weekend link up for the Light and Shade Challenge  but I wrote this with it in mind:

Procurement

Amriel’s wings twitched under the trench coat as he strode down the street. He wore a faded brown fedora he’d snagged from Lameschial before he left the hospital room offering strict instructions to his two colleagues but vague references as to where he was headed.

Thinking about Jane’s sleeping body and her anguished heart caused his wings, eager to unfurl, to flutter against their forced imprisonment again.

He sidestepped the cracks in the concrete, still suspicious even after all these years, and kept his head down as he passed the hooligans clustered at the corner of 10th and Carson ignoring their petty cons and shenanigans .

Amriel was angry.

Anger didn’t come naturally to angels.

Frustration at the sight of human unkindness? Sure. Disappointment with a flawed soul refusing to learn from the lessons thrust upon them? Yes, it happened every day. He’d even felt moments of torment or plain grief as he watched events unfold saddened by the knowledge that there was nothing his hand could do to stop them, but anger was a new and especially frightening emotion.

Angels were built for forgiveness or empathy, but Amriel crossed the street to the high rise building he was headed with Jane’s guttural wail of despair echoing in his ears. Touching the brim of the hat, as if he were straightening it and pinching the bridge of his nose,  he willed the sound to recede.

His body burned with rage.

He’d never believed it could happen to him when he’d been warned over and over again about the risks of becoming too close to a charge. Amriel was the angel of a beautiful and especially serene month and no appointment he’d ever been given up to this point had turned out to be anything but a chance to right a wrong.

But Jane was different in ways Amriel couldn’t explain.

Coming through the front door of the law office he made his way to the front desk where the trench coat draped over his arm, his beautifully tailored suit and hat in hand offered him entrance to the inner sanctum.

As he moved through the halls  his hand cradled a small tube of fine dust he’d drawn from his pocket; similar to the pink dust Kabshiel has sprinkled over Jane, but a purple so dark it appeared black.

Going off grid was not advised and Amriel knew he would be dealt with severely but he took comfort in knowing the reason Jane was not healing was because the heart her own was still attached to felt no sorrow or remorse.

It was time to right that particular wrong.

 

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You’re not going to believe it but I’ve wanted to write this piece since Sunday.

Work is crazy.

Home life after mini-vacations is crazy.

I am tired.

But!!!

I used three different prompts to write this newest installment to my story about angels.

(Anyone have any good ideas for a title of this series? All opinions welcome!)

 

 

From Studio 30Plus: 

This week’s Studio 30+  prompt comes from Ashley, at Fictional Fool, who gave us “Buried Treasure,” 

“He wore a faded brown fedora.”

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From Light and Shade Challenge: 

If you wish me to weep, you must mourn first yourself.

Horace (65 BC – 8 BC)
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And from Master Class (the weekly challenges) 
I used the words HOOLIGAN(last week) and SHENANIGANS (this week)

 

I invite anyone here from any of the challenges to come write with another one. I am so proud to be a “Prompt Diva” with Tara (Thin Spiral Notebook) over at Studio30Plus and we have lots of exciting things planned for our community. Please come #WriteWithUs.

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing (Write on Edge/Master Class)

I had just come to accept that my life would be ordinary when extraordinary things began to happen.

Although it wouldn’t have looked that way to you. Instead, I found out much much later, it was completely average things that were happening to me, events that wouldn’t cause you to turn your head or contemplate taking video as proof of a miracle.

And yet, if you’d asked me, back then, in the middle of it all, I’d have been hard pressed to find another noun or adjective that would have explained what was happening to me.

In hindsight, maybe it was simply a miracle of ordinary proportions.

For example, the world seemed to open up in right front of me. Doors long bolted shut, unlocked with all the ceremony of a coronation complete with flower petals being spread near my feet. Drawbridges lowered themselves, allowing me access to the heart of a castle.

Colors were brighter, sounds were crisper and my skin fizzled with emotion bubbling over like I was in a constant state of warming up. In short, I existed in the space between my buoyant steps, neither here nor there, keenly aware of each breath that emptied and then refilled my eager lungs.

I practically sparkled with the anticipation of each new day.

The unattainable had shown up, upending the natural order of things, whispering promises like a shaman.

Everything suddenly felt extra ordinary.

It was a drug I swallowed without hesitation.

As a child of air and imagination I took nothing seriously (until I did) and then I believed in it with the spirit of a daydreamer, so sure of its existence that I was regularly crushed when the world and I disagreed.

The lovers’ spats that followed were epic rows.

All heart”, it would whisper in a know-it-all voice, “no head.”

But I’d shake my fist, teary- eyed defender of things I could not see.  After all, what was the sin in trusting words whispered directly to my soul?

Much, it turns out.

For when the doors slammed shut and happiness was snatched away as the flowers under my feet withered and died, I couldn’t meet the eyes of the world. I refused its feeble attempts at explanation or reconciliation because I hated the way it reminded me of how ordinary I was.

I was left wondering if anything wonderful or special would ever happen to me again.

So I wallowed.

And I wailed.

I raged like a child completely forgetting how it had all come to be in the first place.

Extraordinary was simply the day- to- day, the mundane and expected in fancy clothes, dressed to impress.

And miracles, it turns out, are around every corner.

 

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I’ve  missed Write at the Merge two weeks in a row so I am using both quotes as inspiration for this piece

Still round the corner there may wait, A new road or a secret gate.

~J. R. R. Tolkien

I would have written of me on my stone: I had a lover’s quarrel with the world.

~Robert Frost

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I also have been missing MASTER CLASS

Steph, being the awesome prof she is, agreed to leave this prompt open for a few more days for me.

Thanks SAM!

The sentence picked by Tara of Thin Spiral Notebook 

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The Offering

decemberists lyrics, hazards of love, quote, writing prompt

 

The altar

Your fingertip traced my naked skin, a small pulse beneath the fleshy pad beating out a predetermined path from my cheekbone down to the indented curve of my hip until your hand rested on my ass.

Naturally, without a fight, a gentle nudge opened my body to yours.

I lifted my face to the kiss, your hands gently taking hold of my breasts.

“Goddess.” You breathed as I held my own, waiting.

Knife sharpened

In that moment, I wanted nothing more than this; the assurance that the hazards of love would never trouble us again.

After all, weren’t you here, inside me, on top of me, filling me with the sweet nectar of your lies?

“Baby…”

The shackles clamped shut

Knowing your words appeased me like a fattened calf you tipped my leg and took me from behind, spilling your confessions mid- thrust.

“I won’t be able to call from Paris.”

An intentional avoidance of my pleading eyes as your blade pierced

Now, I was the obligation; the relative you remember at Christmas out of a sense of responsibility.

Maybe it was better that you couldn’t see the tears that threatened, that the sound of our bodies meeting in pleasure masked the barely audible rip and tear of my heart.

Better that you witnessed my legs shake and my body ripple with satisfaction as you placed a kiss in the hollow of my neck.

“I love you, beautiful.”

The cut was deep, crimson blood ran in a painful river down the pedestal you erected

I winced.

There is no stitch that will ever close that wound.

Even now, when I know not what waits on the other side, I lie still and spread on that slab.

Your sacrifice.

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I am so sorry for combining so many prompts but I wanted to write for everyone and I’m in the middle of a busy week.

Write on Edge

prompt above with a lyric by the Decemberists.

Trifecta’s word of the week:

Remember

3 a :  to keep in mind for attention or consideration    b :  REWARD – 

 

Studio 30 Plus :
Tear

Ripple

Master Class with SAM 

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Because I’ve missed writing for her:

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Inside Jokes (The Path You Choose) {Master Class}

Welcome back for THE PATH YOU CHOOSE.
Carrie has a great piece today (WOW!), CLICK HERE to read it.
Missed any along the path??? CLICK HERE!

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 “We could take in a quick bite at the restaurant at the end of the universe.”

Gabby nursed a gin and tonic and tried not to eavesdrop.

“It’s from the Hitchhiker’s Guide.”

“Is that a movie?” The big doe eyes of Misty Bell registered puzzlement and Gabby tried not to snort the alcohol out of her nose.

“No it’s from a book…” the handsome campaign volunteer tried to explain to Misty Bell. Misty Bell, oldest daughter of Gladys and Chamberlain Bell and their old, old, old money, but even all that cash didn’t ensure smarts as was evidenced by the way confusion was pulling down the corners of Misty’s perfect pout.

But t was exactly the kind of inside  joke that she and Seth would have shared and kept going all afternoon. Gabby tried to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes as she flashed back to the last few minutes she’d had with him today. Remembering him standing there with her diamond perched between his fingers took her breath away and not in a good way, because she also remembered how she’d marched over snatched the bauble from him, jammed it on her finger and stomped out the door without a word.

Who’s the idiot now?” she asked herself and looked down at her 2 carat mistake, adjusting it so it sat at the center of her finger. She hadn’t spoken to Stephen since they’d arrived together; but that was nothing new. Lately, they were just a photo op while he was off making friends and influencing voters.  And where the hell was Justine? Wasn’t this was supposed to be the last function she’d attend before she and Liam headed back to London?

“Well, hello dear. Let me admire that gorgeous ring with you.” Speak of the devil; Gladys Bell had stumbled over on her way back to the bar for a refill. She grabbed Gabby’s hand and after taking a good long look, pulled her towards her. “So you’re going to be the First Lady of New York?” she stage whispered with venom in her voice.

Gabby suddenly remembered Stephen telling her that Misty had been a summer fling a few years back. “Looks that way.” Gabby acknowledged flashing one of her thousand watt smiles. “I’m so proud of all Stephen’s accomplished already; it will be an honor to be at his side when he takes office.”

Mrs. Bell sniffed and lurched away, “ Always nice talking to you, Gabrielle.”

Jesus, was this what life was going to be like from now on? An endless parade of people whispering vile things into her ears while smiling at her face and her husband off saving the state until his own minions  starting whispering about seeking  the White House? Gabby almost fainted on the spot when she thought about the scrutiny that she and her family, oh dear God , her family, would incite once Stephen took office.

“I need another drink.” She thought . Which reminded her of Seth and his lean arms wiping down a bar with one hand and pouring a martini with the other.

Faintly lifting her empty glass to one of the waiters, she nodded and was  was adjusting  the neckline of her gown when Stephen caught her eye from across the room. Making the universal sign for “I’m sorry but I’m going to be here awhile”  he winked at her and turned back to Bud’s cronies.

Relief swept over her when she was suddenly aware  she could leave and no one would miss her now. So without thinking she deposited her empty glass on an empty table and scurried, as fast as she could in these shoes, toward the door. Looking back only once to confirm what she knew.

She never saw Bud witness her escape.

Outside she took in the night air and raised her hand for a taxi.

Seth opened the door a fraction of an inch and looked surprised to see her.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”  

“You look nice.”

“Thanks. “ Gabby answered, not knowing what else to say, when all she really wanted to do was apologize for acting the way she had. She thought of Misty Bell.

“Hey, are you hungry?” she asked.

The corners of Seth’s mouth inched up “A little…”

Gabby flashed another of her thousand watt smiles, “Well, we could take in a quick bite at the restaurant at the end of the universe.

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This week with SAM and Master Class

we were asked to use this sentence as the first and last line of our piece.

(are you writing with the MASTERS yet?)

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Thank you for coming over to read!

Hope you’re having a great weekend!

Bring on the Heartache {The Path You Choose} (Master Class/Studio30Plus)

Welcome! 
Carrie (because she’s awesome!) let me have a little break this weekend and so here we are on Tuesday with our latest installments of THE PATH YOU CHOOSE(they are all HERE courtesy of Carrie).

CLICK HERE to read Carrie’s. (It’s fantastic!)

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Gabby sat across from Seth and wished she could reach over and smooth his furrowed brow, but she didn’t dare. Ever since Libby and Trent had discovered them last week, Seth had been skittish and moody. But every time she tried to broach the subject of why she hadn’t mentioned him to Libby yet he just shut her down and told her it was no big deal.

She knew better.

She watched him slash the paper he was holding with his favorite red pen and let out a low almost entertained whistle, “ listen to this…” He said pushing his reading glasses up to the top of his brown curls, “…’he dipped his mouth to hers as the black shroud of night had just begun to lift, later he made his way through the ironbound doors of the monastery’s inner gate to repent for his sins’. Complete plagiarism of a fine literary work! Now, I have to decide whether to just call him on this or give him the F he deserves.”

“Be nice…” she said from her corner of the couch, smiling inwardly at how much she knew he was enjoying teaching again. At her gentle urging he had hired an extra bartender for two nights a week and had taken an adjunct position this semester.

“I am being nice! This kid is constantly testing my patience and, and! stealing from other writers a hell of a lot more talented than he is.” Seth said stabbing the air with the pen. “Although you gotta hand it to him, he does filch from the most obscure books. Maybe I should give him credit for being extra sneaky.” Gabby laughed as she saw him scrawl a D on the top of the paper and then toss it and the pen to the edge of the couch.

“C’mere baby.” He said, reaching for her. Happily surprised Gabby closed the book she hadn’t been reading anyway and scooted over to his arms. The butterflies swarmed in her tummy as he kissed the tip of her nose and pushed the hair away from her face.

“Sorry I’ve been such a grump the past few days.”

“I understand…”

“You shouldn’t have to understand, Bree.” He said, still placing kisses on various parts of her face, then moved to her neck as his fingers worked their way under her tank top. “I just have a lot on my mind.” He added pushing her down into the cushions.

Gabby almost let herself get lost in the moment, until she realized what time it was. Gently she eased his hands away and sat up.

“I gotta go, remember?”

His eyes clouded, “Oh. Right.”

“I’m sorry, but I really have to be seen at this one. The whole clan is going to be there.” She  got up and starting stuffing her feet into her shoes.

Seth was quiet as she made her way around him, couriering empty glasses and used dishes to the sink, as the intimacy of the room dissipated.

Gabby hooked her bag over her shoulder and glanced at Seth who was still sitting on the edge of the couch.

“I’ll call you later?”

“Sure, whatever.” He answered and stood up.

Gabby felt the bottom of her stomach drop, “Seth, I’m sorry for not telling Libby about you, but it’s not because I don’t care about you, I do. I lov…”

He sighed, “Bree, you have to go, the Taylor’s wouldn’t want you to be late. ”

“Yeah.” She nodded, wishing away the guilty tears welling in her eyes and put her hand on the doorknob.

“Hey.” He said and she turned around to see him holding her diamond between his fingers. “Forgetting something?”

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Getting in it just in time for MASTER CLASS with SAM this week:

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and Studio30Plus had a prompt of

HURT

It applies.

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Thanks for coming over to read, hope you’re having a great week!

Coffee Break {The Path You Choose/Master Class}

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Carrie and I are back with The Path You Choose, you can read her great installment this week if you CLICK HERE

missed any? well then CLICK HERE to catch up on our story of Love and Choices.

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Justine was centering her silverware on the linen napkin, fork-knife, spoon, when the waitress came by with a steaming carafe.

“Top that off miss?” she asked, ready to pour.

Startled out of her reverie, Justine nodded and smiled, “Oh yes, please.”

She watched as her cup filled with Colombian blend. As soon as the waitress moved on she took a moment to cradle the cup with both hands and breathe in the heady aroma until her fingers reached for three packets of sugar.   

Once she’d emptied them she picked up her spoon and slowly began stirring, three times clockwise, three times counterclockwise;  a sip and a satisfied sigh later the cup clinked when she settled it on the saucer.

Justine checked her watch and looked out toward the front of the café again, Gabby should be here any minute and she was anxious to finally divulge all the details of her fiance to her soon to be sister-in-law. Keeping a secret from her family this long had been nothing short of torturous and she desperately needed a confidant and allay. Gabby was the perfect choice.

She’d left Liam in the hotel room, although he’d wanted to accompany her to this impromptu breakfast meeting, for reasons he never needed to know about. Justine picked up the spoon and began stirring again, her thoughts swirling and mixing too.

Coming back to New York had brought back too many memories. Even as she and Liam wandered the streets she’d fled hand in hand, every time they got close to 7th Avenue she began to feel the stirrings, faint but unmistakable, of a long lost love. So many years later she still wondered if she’d left Seth for his own good or hers.

It was why when her fiancé had asked, in his velvety accent if he could tag along this morning, she’d smiled and kissed his full mouth, but told him that she wanted Gabby all to herself for a few hours to discuss girl stuff,” you know weddings and bridesmaids, things that’ll  bore you into a coma.

Liam had laughed and wrapped her up in his strong arms, kissing her nose, “okay Lass, I’ll go do some sightseeing of my own and wait for your return.” Justine smiled at the memory and the fact that everything he said came out sounding like he was quoting a medieval romance novel. Liam was everything she’d ever wanted, wasn’t he?

Again startled out of her daydreams again, Justine looked up to see Gabby hooking her bag over the chair and plopping  down into the chair opposite her, a happy smile lighting her face.

Before Gabby could say a word, Justine found herself spouting, “Wow, Gabby, you look …” she paused to take in the smile that was now lighting up the room.She still found it hard to believe that marriage to her brother and the struggles and stress of the campaign hadn’t dimmed Gabby’s happiness, “…radiant.”

Justine grinned as Gabby’s cheeks took on color like a sinking boat, averting her eyes from Justine’s as she raised her arm to signal the waitress.

“So…” Gabby said to her as the girl came over with the carafe, peeking out from behind her menu “…tell me all about this new man in your life.”

Justine paused, taking an extra minute to sip her coffee. She’d wanted to spend time with Gabby spilling all her secrets, how she and Liam had met, what he did for a living, even how her thesis was months, hell years, from truly being done because she’d gotten caught up in a present day fairytale with a bloke she’d met in London.

But…

Yes, she’d come here to tell Gabby all about Liam, but maybe it was time to tell her future sister- in-law about Seth, and  admit how much she still missed him.

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For this assignment, Troy was asked to choose the 5th book from his top shelf and turn to the 55th page and give us the 5th true line from that page. The book was A Christmas Story by Jean Shepherd and the line was “I sensed the stirrings, faint but unmistakable, of an afternoon love.” I changed the wording a bit to make it work, hoping the teacher (SAM) lets it slide. *wink*

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thanks for coming over to visit

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