Clinging to the grass
Fistfuls in my hand
The clouds are dying
As the wind blows in
Lord, return me to my
Like a map of where to go
the words are drawn out before me
over a vast plane only slightly crumpled.
But your voice kicks me to the moon
and the planned words evaporate
into a blue ooze that numbs my tongue
and twists it to form sentences and questions
I never intended to say aloud.
And my mind is not quick enough
to trap them because it got lost
some time between the second ring
and the sound of your hello.
Jenna moved in to her newly purchased house on the morning of Halloween. It was a Friday, so this would allow her the entire weekend to unpack the vast amount of boxes that littered the dining room floor. She loved her new house as it was her first and even though it was not brand new , it was new to her. First, it was time to investigate her home.
Jenna pushed open the old attic door greeted by a blast of musty stale air. She peeked her head into the darkness and turned on her flashlamp, pushing aside cobwebs in her wake. There was so much to do around the old building and yet her curiosity got the better of her so she decided that the chores could wait until she fully investigated the house thoroughly.
The flashlamp revealed years of dust blanketing forgotten boxes of treasures. As the flashlamp revealed more to Jenna a shimmering came from an ancient dress and eerie whispering sounds emenated for the very walls of the attic.
“This is mine”.
“No, I want to wear it…you got the last dress Papa sent from Paris”.
Jenna took a few seconds to slam shut the attic door.
“No, come back”.
Jenna froze and trembled with fear. The voices beckoned her to return….young voices, playful voices. She slowly peeked her head back into the dusty old attic. Her body followed. Jenna thought that the floor looked safe enough; it did not creak under her weight. She slowly walked towards the old dress standing upright on a dress-model, the sheer work on the stitching alone was exquisite and it’s beauty reached out to her womanly appreciation.
“It’s mine”, a whisper echoed around the open space.
Jenna started, twisted and turned, trying to find who owned this gently voice. Her flashlamp searching every nook for it’s owner.
“Where are you?’, she asked cuatiously. No answer.
The Jameson’s house had stood for over 400 years. The previous owner had left the house 20 years prior to Jenna purchasing it. Local rumours had said that the whispers in the house had driven the last owner mad. The agent decided that it was best not to tell Jenna of the local belief that the house was haunted so it was never mentioned during the sale.
A rustling noise came from the bustle of the old dress. Jenna was drawn towards it with an outstretched hand. The material was of purest silk and felt wonderful to the touch. Jenna ran the flashlamp over the entire dress and took in it’s elegance and beauty.
“It is so beautiful”, the whispers started again. “Father sent it back for us whilst he visited Europe”, the voice continued…another voice interrupted, “Yes, for us, not for you!”. The voices continued to argue over possession of the dress. Jenna stood numbed and yet intrigued. Her fear had lifted slightly as she felt that there was no harm intended to her.
“Who are you?”, she ventured bravely. There was a moment of silence….
Jenna wanted to know more. “What are you doing here?”.
“We live here”, the second voice retorted.
“And, you are?”.
“I am Grace”.
“My name is Jenna”.
“What are you doing in our home?”, Elizabeth enquired.
“I live here too”, Jenna explained.
“How could you live here?”, demanded Grace.
Jenna did not know what to do but she decided that the truth was her best option. She explained that she bought the house a month ago and had just moved in this morning. There were some utterings between the two voices however Jenna could not make out what they were saying.
“How can this be?, Elizabeth asked. My sister and I were born here. We have never left the house.” The attic began to chill and Jenna could make out an outline of the apparitions. Two young teenage girls, she reckoned around 18 and 19, emerged like a wispy mist. They were both dressed in fine attire that would have been in style over 150 years ago.
Jenna asked them about the dress that stood on the dress model. Elizabeth explained that as she was the oldest she had laid claim to the gift from Papa. The girls were to attend the annual Hunt Ball and it was to be their first introduction into society. Papa had sent a few other dresses however Elizabeth wanted to wear this one. Unfortunately, so did Grace. Jenna listened to the sisters argue when suddenly Grace turned to her;
“What happened?”, she asked, now realising that this was not a normal situation by any means.
“I dont know”, Jenna replied honestly. “However, I promise you that I will find out”.
Jenna left them to their sibling arguments and descended back into the regal old home that was now hers. She made it her priority to research the history of the building. Firstly, she rang the agent who sold her the house. He seemed distant and distracted and Jenna was truly exasperated and none the wiser when she finished with their conversation.
That afternoon Jenna went to the local Library and researched the history of the area and found that her home belonged to an extremely wealthy family whom were revered among the society of the day. When she opened the dusty old file there it was! On Halloween night almost two hundred years ago, one of the candles tipped-up and set fire to the house…nobody survived. The Father was in Paris at the time and was due home later that evening and the Mother and her two girls died in the fire on the night in question.
Jenna asked around locally and it was confirmed that the house had never been lived in for long during their lifetime. Everyone knew it was haunted and the last man who owned it went quite mad after living in it for only two years. He had it borded up and it had taken twenty years to come back onto the market for sale. On further research Jeanna found that the house had been rebuilt forty years after the fire.
She returned to the attic that evening and brought a lamp with her this time. She walked over to the dress and the girls joined her immediately. Jenna explained to them what she had uncovered about their lives and their death. The girls were distraught. Captured between two worlds awaiting the return of Papa from Europe. When Jenna explained that their Father never lived in the house after the tragedy they began to fade slightly from her sight.
“Jenna, it’s time for us to go now”, the girls whispered. “We can see Papa and Mama calling. You take the dress”, Elizabeth offered.
“Yes, its yours now”, Grace agreed.
Jenna undid the dress from the old dress-model and tried it on. It fit her perfectly. The two girls smiled and slowly began to dissappear right in front of her eyes. Jenna knew that they had been waiting for the return of their Papa and now that they knew he was never coming back to the house, it was time for them too, to go.
She heard a very distant whisper, very faint.
“Enjoy Jenna and thank you”. Then there was silence.
(c) rochelle moore 2002
I thought you were the man of my dreams
The man I was waiting for
After all we had been through
We thought we had scored
My kids were so happy
Always smiling and content
None of us had any idea
You were such a threat
As time went by we saw the signs
Of an animal in you
We were so afraid
We thought we would die
Everything is an issue
A reason for you to attack
And open your mouth
And leave us for dead
Sometimes I fell like dying
Of getting up and closing you mouth
Your tongue is made of venom
so deadly, so deadly, I’m in despair
Someone lower the volume of his insults!
Your no good, your a whore, your kids are trash!
Someone please help me understand!
The man I new has passed
Daughter, son, gather your things
We must go, we must let go,
Love produces loving words
Not words that cause pain
Hurry, hurry before he gets home
We’ll be alright
God will show us the road
Hey,baby.You must be tired
Cuz you’ve been runnin’ thru my mind all day
It’s super corny,but oh,so true
I love you so much,don’t know what to say
Not only do you run through my mind
You are parked there as well
We’re now a part of each other
A team that’s a perfect gel
Thanks for making today nice and sweet
We didn’t do anything but love one another
Your companionship and love is all that I need
I love you like I’ve loved no other
When I was younger I never really pictured myself being as close to my mom as I am. Especially because we are so much alike. You know when people are to much alike they clash, but not my mom and I. However we will let each other know where we stand. She taught me that. My mom is not the type of mom to get mushy over girly things. She has always been one tough cookie strong, independent, liberal kind of women and raised me that way which I am so thankful for. Had she babied me I would not be where I am today. My mom has always been the backbone in our family. If she were worried about something she would never really show it. When she is pissed off, trust me she let’s you know that and watch out because the shoe or paddle was coming your way.
Another thing about my mom is when she sets her mind to do something she does it. No if’s, and’s or but’s, she did it. She means business and when it requires commitment you know she will follow through. My mom I believe is mis-understood. Some would probably say she was a bitch, but the fact is she just tells it like it is, no sugar coating, somewhat aggressive and forward but honest, very honest. She does have a soft side but very few people have ever had the honor of getting close enough to see that side of her. If you do, you would see that she is really sweet at times and really kind of humbling. “Sorry mom for blowing your cover”!
My mom is very serious, and it takes a lot to make her laugh. She is her own person and that obviously make’s her who she is. She can be stubborn and hard to please being set in her ways. She does not like large crowds, hates loud music, can’t stand to be around drinking drunks, and she does not like ruthless individuals. She likes quiet days at home, drinking her coffee and she is just mellow.
One thing about my mom is she is always there for us (her children). She will do whatever she can to help. She loves her kids and she makes sure that we all know. She has always been there to help out any way she can and she also knows that we all would do whatever for her whenever. My mom loves to shop and spend money. I am usually her partner when it comes to that, probably not as often as she would want, but we enjoy it when we do. My older sister and her talk about weird games they get into on the play station. Yes my mother is 63 and one of the best play station gamers. It is so funny to see her play this, but it is one of her things she loves to do. She and I also share our favorite sports which are gymnastics and ice skating. She always gets tickets for me and her to go see “Stars on Ice” every year. My older brother doesn’t come around much, he is the macho son that don’t need anyone, but I think now that he is getting older he actually goes and see’s her a little more. About the only thing she and he have in common this going to early morning breakfast. My younger brother is my mothers keeper sort of. He makes sure he does pretty much anything for our mom. He worries that she lives alone, and he just worries about her period. Especially ever since our father died, he tends to check up on her the most.
She is one of the most important people in my life and I will always be there for my mom. To understand her is the key to loving her. One thing she holds very close to her heart is us her children because she really doesn’t have much family. She had only one brother who she lost unfortunately last year and her parents died when she was young, and she didn’t have a big family to begin with. I give her so much credit though because she does not let it bother her, as long as she has her kids she is good. There are four of us and she has 11 grandchildren, 5 great grandchildren and 1 more great grandchild on the way.
Another thing that really impresses me about my mom is she is alone but makes the best of it. Usually people would think of someone that likes to be alone a lot are just loners. Not my mom, because she does it all she travels all alone and has seen some beautiful places. She has been to Hawaii twice, she went on an Alaskan Cruise, she flies back east to Massachusetts to visit some of her little family and some of my dad’s family. She has gone with her brother many many times to Canada where they found distant family to go and visit. They have been to several parts of Canada and she just got to see Niagara Falls before my uncle died. She went to Mazatlan with some friends once and I am not sure where else she has gone, but she has definitely enjoyed herself. She is planning as we speak to maybe go somewhere else, maybe Europe or something. I think it is fantastic and brave of her to just go do this on her own and see the world.
Because of my mom’s strength and independence it enables me to respect her even more than I do already. I know that she misses my father tremendously (he passed away 13 years ago) but what impresses me is that she didn’t allow herself to lie down and just die with him, she made herself get up and be the women she always has been and more. I love her to death and I wouldn’t change her for nobody. As I said before, I don’t need Mother’s Day to be able to share this women with the world.
I love you Mom!!!
As they always say: a picture is worth a thousand words. But this word has become so powerful that no one picture can overcome the myriad pictures it can unleash in your mind; even in the most pious of minds!
You are sitting on the bar slowly sipping on your double-olive martini shaken by the loud music and stirred by what your eyes can see. The combination of absolutely delicious vodka, billowing cigarette smoke, ravaging harsh music, and the all but innocuous flickering darkness keying notes of a mating call on the receptors of your primitive brain. All of your senses are disinhibited and anything at that very moment makes sense. The sight of a tall and slender beauty staring at you in the near distance consumes every second of your thoughts.
You rise slowly from your chair holding the bar not to tip over it. You walk tipsy toward your target balanced with a martini glass in one hand and the anticipation of your partner-to-be in the other.
You greet the lady with a casual hi and complement her beauty telling her that you have never seen such a pretty face. She looks you in the eye and sarcastically but arrogantly asks the question: how can you see my beauty in this dark environment? You tell her it’s because you glow in the dark. She laughs and at the very end of her inviting giggle you kiss her glowing lips.
You dance for a while and offer her a drink. You order a large glass of martini with two olives and share the drink and divide the olives.
She reaches for your hand wanting to leave this place. You disembark on a journey to one of the most romantic of journeys: a walk in the alleys of Venice. You spend the night working every sinful pleasurable side of your senses till you are drunk with love.
This picture will remain etched in your mind as the single most potent picture the word on your mind can paint. It is not the act itself but the moment of perfection; the moment of mutual yet perfect perception.
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