Cindy Calder
Bio
From Charleston SC - "I am still learning." Michelangelo
Stories (240/0)
Fried Green Tomatoes
Amelia Rose had lived in the South all her days. She was now twenty-nine years of age and single, which was nearly an unheard occurrence in the small Southern town where she lived. All of her hometown friends had been married for several years and most were already parents of at least two children. Amelia Rose didn’t understand the prerequisite. She’d finished college and decided upon returning home because her mother had been ill, but since doing so, she’d been chastised by family, close friends, acquaintances, and even strangers whom she did not know beyond a nod of greeting, for not ‘settling down’.
By Cindy Calder3 years ago in Humans
That Which We Call a Rose
Waverly stood and stretched. It had been a long, productive day of painting, and she was more than ready for a break. Before retreating from her studio, however, she took one last glance at the most recent piece of work. Pleased overall with the progression of her painting of the enormous, blue hydrangeas that sat upon the table, she cleaned her brushes and put away the multi-colored paint palette.
By Cindy Calder3 years ago in Humans
From the Shadows
Adrienne stepped onto the veranda. It was an unseasonably warm evening in February, and she needed to catch the breeze that came off the water. She had not yet danced, but her face behind the mask was still finely misted with perspiration, and she could feel small rivulets of the same running down between her breasts beneath the heavy eighteenth century costume dress that she’d chosen to wear this evening.
By Cindy Calder3 years ago in Futurism
A Simple Glass of Merlot
Greta felt the sun on her face and the wind in her hair during the long drive. Having the top down on the old Mercedes sports convertible was heavenly, especially this time of year. There was little that could beat it on a given day. The scenery of North Yorkshire that stretched before her on the road was stunning, soothing and filling her restless soul with rolling hills and a winding highway leading her to the seashore. She’d been making this annual trip for twenty-nine years and looked forward to it every June. It was something that gave her purpose and was well worth the endeavor despite the half day it took to reach her destination. And she would continue to make it each year as long as she was able. It gave her immense comfort and kept him closer in all that she did, not just in mind and heart.
By Cindy Calder3 years ago in Humans
From Across the Room
Lizzie made her way along the path that ran on the outskirts of the wooded area just along the pond. The early morning’s mist still hung above the water’s edge. It was eerily quiet except for the chirping of birds that flitted through the tree branches above her. Her Golden Retriever, Maggie, was at her side, a fierce protector at all times. She absorbed the energy that nature’s beautiful setting provided. It was moments like these that made her confident that moving to the secluded coastal town was the best decision she’d ever made. Life as a writer had never had more inspiration than it did right now. She lived and breathed every creative endeavor with a fervor previously unknown. At twenty-nine years of age, it had been worth it to begin anew and leave everything behind.
By Cindy Calder3 years ago in Humans
Lavender & Merlot
There was a definite chill in the fall evening as Abigail made her way to the small Italian restaurant called La Pasta. The rustic, multi-colored leaves whispered, blowing and scattering about as her black heels clicked methodically with each step she took on the narrow sidewalk. Reaching up, she attempted to push back the loose wisps of russet colored hair that flew about her face, but it was a futile endeavor. Her hair, thick and lustrous, had a mind all its own, and tonight, one thing was certain: there was no escaping the force of the breeze that lent it a new strength against any of her efforts to tame it. She mused to herself that she would likely look a mess once she arrived at her destination, but alas, it was what it was. She should have taken that taxi after she had agreed to come on the first date only if she was allowed to arrive and depart of her own accord.
By Cindy Calder3 years ago in Humans
The Imprisoned Visitor
Meagan had known ever since she’d moved into the new house one week earlier that she wasn’t alone. Yes, it was a very old house, and yes, she was an empath. She not only picked up on the emotions of living humans, but she also picked up on the emotions emitted by souls on the other side. It was nothing new and something she’d experienced since the age of five. The abilities had grown perpetually stronger as she had aged. At thirty-five, it was not unusual to sense something out of the ordinary.
By Cindy Calder3 years ago in Humans
The Diamond
Shelby stood at the counter, glancing around at the small number of patrons in the jewelry store. They were completely oblivious of her, but she felt like she stood out like a fish out of water. This was not a store she frequented nor did she own any similar items such as the ones displayed in the shining, crystal clear cases. Except for the ring, of course. That enormous, beautiful diamond ring she had shown the jeweler was all hers.
By Cindy Calder3 years ago in Humans
Christmas of 1910
The year was 1910, and it was a bitter, cold winter night. Arthur sat before the cozy fire, slowly rocking in his chair and smoking his pipe as he listened to the giggles and excitement from the next room where his eight children slept. His wife, Anna, was with them and was attempting, albeit unsuccessfully, to settle them down so that he could begin his annual Santa Claus masquerade. He shook his head. She had her work cut out for her. What child wouldn’t be filled with excitement on Christmas Eve? She might have to threaten them within an inch of their lives to achieve such an endeavor.
By Cindy Calder3 years ago in Families
The Lock Box
She sat stoically in front of the blazing fire, her face a mixture of emotions that ran rampant as she stared at the small lock box before her on the massive walnut desk. It was his desk and his lock box. She barely wanted to touch it less alone be in the same room with it. But she had no choice in the matter. She had a responsibility to confront what lay within the confines of the box. What secrets would it divulge, she wondered?
By Cindy Calder3 years ago in Humans
The Book of Names
Micah sat on a bench at the Battery, looking out on the ocean waves as they lapped against the seawall and fencing barricade that had stood for well over a century. The peaceful moss swayed in response to the whisper of an April wind rustling through the leaves of the massive oaks that lined the park. The weather was lovely this time of year in Charleston, as was the abundance of blooming azaleas, magnolias, and dogwoods. All of these things, when combined, lent a calmness that betrayed the anxiousness Micah had felt ever since he’d lost the little black notebook four days prior. He had never been without the book in his possession. It would not be long, however, before he’d have it back – before she arrived with it. His hands itched at the thought of holding the book again as he waited, pondering the recent turn of events that had led him to this point.
By Cindy Calder3 years ago in Futurism
The Book of Names
Micah sat on a bench at the Battery, looking out on the ocean waves as they lapped against the seawall and fencing barricades that had stood for well over a century. The peaceful moss swayed in response to the whisper of an April wind rustling through the leaves of the massive oaks that lined the park. The weather was lovely this time of year in Charleston, as was the abundance of blooming azaleas, magnolias, and dogwoods. All of these things, when combined, lent a calmness that betrayed the anxiousness Micah had felt ever since he'd lost the little black notebook four days prior. He had never been without the book in his possession. It would not be long, however, before he'd have it back - before she arrived with it. His hands itched at the thought of holding the book again as he waited, pondering the recent turn of events that had led him to this point.
By Cindy Calder3 years ago in Futurism