Idealist, Artistic, Social justice activist, Hard-working single mother of two children.
Believes in the beauty and transformational power
of the written word.
My Mysterious Daisho
The grey, desolate streets stood as a painful reflection of the hollowness that lurked in the hearts of the survivors. Gone were the liveliness of a busy city that once boasted of life, laughter, cars and loud music. The bitter silence reflected the new reality. The dismissive moon weakly shone over the few lost souls. Survivors desperately roamed the empty, grey streets searching for what or who they had lost. What each person lost that night definitely varied. However, the losses that hit the hardest were undeniably those of the heart. Our heart may be the only part of our body that has a direct bond to our very soul. The power of the heart is infinite. It can change our mode of reasoning. A broken heart effortlessly may transform the genius into a madman. It is undeniable, within the realms of the human heart, lies the power to uplift or destroy our very mind and soul.
A Mysterious Disappearance
The mysterious disappearance of a male tourist named Christopher Jones at a remote area of our island has been surrounded by incessant speculation. Mr. Jones, a middle class American tourist in his mid-30s, arrived at our beautiful island with serious plans to start a small business. His wife and family, who have now been notified of his fate, describe him as a loving husband. They beg the community’s assistance to provide local authorities with any information to help solve what they deem a potential kidnap. However, as of yet no one has requested any ransom or any type of payment for his return. Local churches have set up prayer groups for the entire community to come and pray together for Mr. Jones’ prompt and safe return. Local newspapers have covered his dim departure since the first time it was reported.
LOVE RESCUE “Meow…Meow…Meow!!!” The laments were at first almost inaudible. I seriously began doubting my own ears and even worse, my own mind. “I swear I just heard a sound. Was it possible that I was imagining a feline symphony?” I asked myself as I scratched my head. “I mean I was tired from the endless walks through my Junior High School’s hallways and staircases, the long list of heated fights I witnessed in our school premises as well as the pressures of the daily life of just being a regular 13 year old. Imagining a cat meowing might be feasible.” I concluded. I decided middle school and my teenage years had done a number with my mind. However, as time passed the meowing not only began again but gradually increased in pitch and volume.
The Intricate Art of Seduction
THE INTRICATE ART OF SEDUCTION “Never forget my beautiful lady, fine wine is like a special woman that possesses within its realms; a world of flavors, distinct aroma and sensuality that one must savor calmly, sip by sip… Patience is the key. It is the only way to truly enjoy and discover its essence.”Jean-Marc confidently stated as he smiled mischievously.
The Grand Escape
THE GRAND ESCAPE It was a foggy and chilly October night when my friends first discussed the furtive escape game. The Halloween themed flyers enticed daring participants to enter a mysterious contest. The prediction warned that only the wittiest possessed the innate skill to disentangle an intricate maze and discover an expeditious escape route. The enigmatic ads decorated the old world style architecture of the Main Avenue of our small New England town. The suspense was further exacerbated by the fact that no one could pinpoint the time or method used to strategically position the cryptic flyers. The mysticism earned the contest an increasingly dubious reputation. The elder population initiated hasty gatherings to gossip over tea. Participants’ heads shook and jaws dropped at fanciful ideas aimed to decipher the suspicious competition. . Few locals went as far as to tactfully stroll by only to destroy what they deemed were malevolent flyers aimed to poison our town. The young, inebriated crowd inundated the local bar, “Whiskey rebels” to brainstorm distinct game scenarios with a comical twist vehemently enhanced by liquor. I admit the skepticism only made the idea more attractive to our group.