The Quarrel

The Quarrel

She waits with baited anticipation in her world of sorrow
They had squabbled the night before, and to her it was just a silly tiff
But he had taken it to heart, what was it she said that had upset him so?

He was due to call on her about this time as arranged, but she had been waiting
It seems forever, and slowly she became to realize that whatever it was had hurt him
She never meant to hurt him, after all, all lovers quarrel, was he being misunderstood?
She thought she knew him, with all his qualms and ways

Why did she allow herself to fall so deeply in love with him, suddenly she heard a step outside
The door opened and there he stood, a little boy look on his face “I’m sorry darling”  he said
“Please forgive me”

She looked up and smiled, “Forgive you for what?” She said, with one bound he was by her side, her flimsy
Nightgown fell to her side as he took her in his arms, “I will never let you go my darling; I want to be with you forever.”

The Christmas present

The Christmas present

I had been invited to spend a winter break with my friend and fellow writer Asbjørn at his Greenland home in Nuuk. It had been one of those late November days when the sun had hung low in the mornings sky, the winter solstice had crippled the sun to an almost hovering standstill, it had spent the day seemingly waiting for the frosty moon to take over its daily task.

I stepped into the evening’s chill; the translucent tangerine sky glistened overhead and beckoned me towards its radiant glow, I felt my pulsating heart beat in time with the nights chirping insects, acoustically singing their copulatory love songs

The energetic exciting sounds resonated through my veins, as I walked into the night, the sky promise tomorrow would be a wonderful day, but tonight the night was mine. I shrugged my shoulders and pulled up my collar, each breath misted the chilled air as the crunching sounds beneath my every step reminded me of the decreasing temperature.
.
Reaching the gazebo, I entered, and sat on the wooden seat which ran around the inside of the building, I was just by a small window with a clear view of the lawn, it had a fine covering of snow as if it were a thinly frosted Christmas cake, I could still see a greenish tint showing through the thin frosting, with not a mark to mar its appearance.

My wristwatch read 2am when I saw her, at first she seemed timid to come into the open, but then she made her way across the lawn towards me, she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, her pure snow white fur almost hid her from my view.

Asbjørn had told me about this Arctic fox which made frequent visits to his garden and so I was excited to see her with my own eyes, her three kits following behind still had a slight brownish colour to their fur which told me that they were still quite young.

After an hour of playing with her family she and the kits were gone, I waited for a short while and then made my way back to the warmth of the house, my heart was still thumping with exhilaration of the evenings events, clasping my camera, I thought this was a Christmas present I would never forget.

The Formula

The Formula

I had a happy childhood my father was a doctor and worked at the local hospital and would often show my pictures of the human body and how all the bits worked, his main work was on the brain and I remember he gave me a book of the brain and as I turned the pages it would show each part, what it did, and how it worked

I remember thinking I wanted to be a doctor one day, I don't remember too much about my mother, I know she had long blonde hair and blue eyes but sadly she died when I was five, I learned when I was older that it was a brain tumour that killed her

On my sixteenth birthday, my father retired as a top Neurologist and as much as I loved him I wanted a place of my own, I was attending a college in Oxford trying to get a degree to allow me to become a doctor just like him and needed to be nearer to the college

 I found an apartment not too far from him and would visit him each day Dad had always been a bit of a fuddy-duddy and he had always been a little forgetful and I felt if I was near to him I could still make sure he was eating properly  but still have a little independence in my own place

My father had studied cancer for most of his working life, and although retired he still continued with his work on the subject, he had written many books on the topic and had been working on a project to reduce the size of cancerous tumours, day and night he would lock himself away in his laboratory and sometimes work all through the night then one damp dreary December day he burst from his lab with a cry of, eureka

He told me he had formulated a potion and told me he had tried it on rats and it worked after more trials he would slowly start giving me the treatment,  I suppose I ought to explain that it is because of me he had dedicated so much time to this work.

Around a year ago when I was twenty I started to get these awful pains in my head, my doctor told me it was probably migraine and prescribed some tablets to take when the pain became really bad but they did not help at all and after six weeks I returned to my doctor who sent my off for some tests at the local hospital.

The results devastated me I had developed a tumour in my brain and unless something was done it would grow to a size that might cause my death, after many months of treatment including surgery, radiotherapy, and chemotherapy I was told there was no more they could do and sent me home, this was the driving force in my father's research

Should I have taken the advice from my father and waited until he had made further studies and more tests had been carried out before I took that first dose?  I will never know, but what I did know was that the pain in my head was getting worse each day and so I made the decision to take a dose, I managed to find the key to my father's laboratory and let myself in.

There were papers notebooks and beakers all over the place, on one wall a large blackboard covered with calculations and chemistry formulas but after a quick search I found the formula in among some glass retort's he used for distillation and poured a measured dose, it tasted foul, but I thought as long as it took my pain away it would be worth it, I carefully put the bottle back where I had found it just in case my father suspected I had been in his laboratory

I never told anyone about me taking the formula and now it is six months since I started taking it, the latest result from the hospital was that my tumour had almost completely gone and was told I needn't go back for any more tests, for six months, at my last weigh-in at the hospital they made me 140 pounds and 5 foot 2 inches

After my six monthly check-up the hospital confirmed that the tumour had gone, and the bonus was that I had lost weight had I was pleased to hear I had lost 10 pounds but the strange thing was that I had also lost height, they made me 5 foot, that is 2 inches less than the last time

I never thought anymore on the subject thinking the hospital had just got it wrong.

But now the effect on my body is frightening me I was shrinking each month now I am only 4 feet eleven inches and it is beginning to scare me.

As I lived on my own my father was unaware of my predicament I just told him of the results I was getting from the hospital were fine, My father passed away a month ago but not before telling me he had a reversing drug in case something went wrong when he was ready to try out the treatment, I know he meticulously kept records of all his work but I never knew where he kept them

I am now a middle-aged woman and still shrinking I now have to stand on a chair to open the door to my father's office I had to find his book that contained the reversing formula before I shrank any more.

What's for tea Daddy?

What's for tea Daddy?

Come on little one it's time we made our way home, we had a lovely walk all round the lake, caught a peek at the moorhen nest, this time, we saw her eggs, then on to the old chestnut tree to collect some conkers.

Claire tells me she is going to be the champion this year, as we reach the top corner we both stand and stare in amazement as two pure white swans glide in to make a perfect graceful land on the still waters, the late sun reflecting off the ripples in bursts of gold and silver diamonds, there is one final thing to do

I give Claire the bag of feed and watch her, as she feeds the ducks with their clutch of new chicks.
The sun as if trying to hold on to the last moment, begins to dip below the horizon, Claire swipes both hands as if playing the cymbals, wiping away any last remnants of duck food, reaching up to take my hand she smiles and says what's for tea Daddy?

A woman’s scorn.

A woman’s scorn.

And all those Ills which thou so long hast mourn'd;

Heav'n has no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn'd,

Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd.

I drove her home and kissed her goodnight, “would you like to come in for a coffee Johnny” she whispered seductively? She looked over her shoulder and beckoned me in, “Go right in and make yourself comfortable”
“Humm,” I thought, “Johnny this is going to be a pushover”
I had got away with it for such a long time, I had managed to keep both my women from finding out about the other, and I was having a ball. I poured myself a whiskey, turning round I saw the gun pointing right between my eyes

“At last I have you, where I want you Johnny. No more Miss nice girl, I am fed up to the teeth with your cheating and lying, we have come to the end of the line, and you have come to the END”
I saw her finger squeeze on the trigger, was this to be the way I would die? Suddenly I felt a cold pain on the side of my face as I was swallowed in a grey mist, I dropped to the floor.
As I lay there, the gun rolling on her finger and still smoking, she smiled and looked down at me and laughed out loud,” Huh! This time Johnny you have bitten off more than you can chew, I told you not to cheat on me”

Is this the end for Johnnydod?

I could feel a mist descending down on me again, and it all went black. As I laid there in a pool of blood I slowly opened my eyes, the gun in her hand still smoking.
“That’s it, Johnnydod” she growled, “that’s the last time you’ll ever cheat on me”
And with a low menacing laugh she cried, so long sucker, and she was gone, from my life forever.

Quick on the scene the "Daily Blog"

I woke in a pool of blood with the mother of all headaches, I slowly allowed myself to regain my senses, dragging myself to my feet I could feel myself sway backwards and forwards, I steadied myself and poured a stiff shot of Scotch.
A reporter from the "Daily Blog" stood in the doorway, he started firing questions at me, I told him some story that it had all been a mix-up and got rid of him.
Cleaning myself up a bit I made my way out onto the street it must have been around seven in the evening the cold night air felt good on my face, as I hailed a taxi to my place

Read all about it

A newsvendor was shouting out the evenings headlines
"Johnnydod found gunned down, read all about it, read all about it"

I throw him some change and grabbed a paper," bloody hell those reporters get their news to the papers quick" I thought, making my way up to my pad I stripped off and turned on the shower, as the warm water trickled over my body I thought. "That's it, I think I'll stick to one woman from now on."

Just as I stepped out of the shower the phone rang, I let my answer machine
answer " Hi Johnny, do you remember me? I'm Trudy the girl you met in the bar the other night"
A smile crept across my face.........

The Awakening, a journey to fulfilment.

The Awakening, a journey to fulfilment.

"The awakening" is a journey we should all take to discover ourselves, now you can follow a fellow being on his journey to fulfilment

He had travelled many miles across many borders in his quest to seek out and consult the one, who he had been told, would show him the way to complete fulfilment. After the twelfth day, he found himself in a place that emitted a feeling of calm and serenity, in the distance he could see a pathway leading up to what seemed to be a cavern.

The opening had a kind of glow, a welcoming light and there at the base of the path was the most beautiful apparition he had ever seen, she was clad, in a cloak of what could only be made of the finesse silk, as he approached her she seemed to anticipate him and reached out to him.

She took his hand and led him upwards towards the light; he offered no resistance to her magical form, had he at last, ended his journey had he at last found his approach to his inner identity, the place he searched for? He had questioned his existence many times and had heard about the magical place where he now found himself, he had been told he was to seek the beautiful maiden, the shaman of the spirit world, and now he had found her.

Follow me to the centre of my mind, he cried reach inside and touch the sinus of my very being, she smiled again and said, touch my senses and allow them to travel across your affections, and when our thoughts merge in their entirety, then and only then, can we allow your desires to flow along the path of ecstasy.

Take me he implored and use the power of my love as you will, I am at your mercy, I will completely and utterly mould to your resolve, and upon your contentment, I employ you to utilize your power once again to transport me to paradise.

As she led him, her voice uttering a mantra which would transform his spiritual identity, he climbed to the entrance and upon entering, felt a warmth inside, she smiled at his wonderment and placed his hand upon her breast, speak to me sire, tell me of your desires, he looked into her eyes and began to speak as if another voice spoke his words.

The Summer of 69

The Summer of 69

It was the summer of 69, she was just one of the many that had watched and listened with awe, along with 150,000 others, to the likes of Jefferson Airplane, T. Rex, The Move, Pretty Things, Joe Cocker, The Who and Bob Dylan.

The place was Wotton on the Isle of Wight the date August 30th, 1969.
She was a sheer vision of exquisiteness, as she tilted her head to take in the beauty of the flower, thrown to her by Bob Dylan, whilst he sang She belongs to me, the sunlight danced in her hair, as if attracted to her by her charismatic aura, she sat there contemplating the purity of the flower and his music, and became locked into a world of her own, the beat of the music pounding along with the beat of her heart.

Dylan had said, when asked why he agreed to come to the Isle of Wight and not Woodstock, I wanted to see the birthplace of Alfred, Lord Tennyson because I was just curious.

She had been taking a course of Native American healing and had taken time off to attend the festival, the air was heavy with the sweet tang of Hashish, and this was her first experience away from her course to the reality of the freedom of love and peace as she melded to this unique occurrence.

Suddenly a figure appeared before her in the haze, he was tall a little dishevelled his shirt open to his waist revealing a slight but masculine physique, an inhibited smile drew across his face, I want to dance with you, he said, you were born to dance, and you were born to dance with me.

The strains of "Highway 61 Revisited" wafted over her as she stood up, he took her flower and placed it in her hair, holding out an outstretch hand he pulled her into him, she would never forget the next two days , moved by the music , swayed by his charms the summer of 69 will live in her memory forever.

Slowly she opened her eyes, around her, were the other members of her healing group, it was 2011. Had it had all been a figment of her imagination, a trip she had taken whilst in her meditated state? She was a child of the 60s, but a woman of today, her hand went to sweep back her hair, a pink blossom fell to floor, she smiled and promised herself she would return to that summer of 69.