Sai Marie Johnson
A multi-genre author, poet, creative&creator. Resident of Oregon; where the flora, fauna, action & adventure that bred the Pioneer Spirit inspire, "Tantalizing, titillating and temptingly twisted" tales.
My mother never had it easy in life. She was born with a hearing impairment in the mid-sixties. Not only that, but she was also a biracial child with a white mother and a Native American father. However, her mother was not very present in her life and as a result she was fostered by her half-sister’s family who didn't always treat her so kindly. In fact, they paraded her around for being a Native girl during community events and often subjected her to worse treatment and bullying. This followed her into public school where she endured countless rumors but as she grew older she started to become pretty and the boys started to notice her. This didn't make things any easier, however, as she found herself the victim of slanderous lies due other girls' jealousy. As a result, my mom had poor confidence and felt abandoned by those who were supposed to love her. She also got told she should just give up any dream she held for herself because her disability wouldn't allow her to achieve anything. It was recommended that she go to Salem to the deaf school and accept a social security disability check to live off of. But, my mom didn't want that life. She loved reading, she loved helping others and she had a huge spirit with an epic sense of adventure. She wanted to see the world and enjoy all the riches it had to offer and she had an appetite for life. She was fascinated by composers like Mozart and Beethoven, especially, due to his hearing impairment and ability to create such amazing pieces. She was a hopeless romantic with a heart of gold who loved animals, people and her environment and all she wanted was to nurse and nurture those in need while being an attentive and loving wife. But, life didn’t work out exactly as my mother hoped, or wanted.
Prayer of a Luscious Rose
Kaira was not new to the subject of lovers. Not in the very least bit. After years of watching the various girls who came, and rose to lengths of semi-fame clued her into this at a very young age. Men of the highest caliber occupied this place. Dressed in fine linens, and suits they often possessed the finest pocket watches, and walking sticks one could find. Strangely enough those sticks were rarely for aid in their step but rather finely crafted weapons. With the simplest twisting, or pushing of a button a blade could be extracted, and thrust into the very gut of whomever the gent preferred. Contrary to what many believed, however, Magdelyn ran an establishment of refinement, and tended to enjoy making the atmosphere light, and inducive to spending. Spending time or money, but mostly both were preferred. With a sense of pride the woman turned upon heels, and cast mere glances at various wealthy bachelors who seemed to flock to her more for advice than the warmth of her arms. This was because Magdelyn was the most glorious of gem. Dakotick himself had been enraptured by that very coquettish giggling she was renown for. In all of Kaira’s years she had looked up to her elder sister. Revering the woman with a sense of envy, but also complete adoration. An odd relationship some might have said, and had Aurora still been alive today she would have likely frowned upon both, if not all three of her daughters.
Police States, Racism, and Pandemonium
The pen is mightier than the sword. And, yet, the wicked hand of the scholar has mislead generations of people into believing whatever they wanted them to. The art of propaganda was indeed just that, an art. It was meant to persuade and influence emotional response because, after all, what is art?