The pain is deep, unrelenting. The memories never fade, etched in my mind – carved into my heart.  Words unspoken, linger with regret. Sitting in a pool of tears, gasping for relief of this agony…

And yet… I must continue, persevere, fight… knowing full well there is no prize to be won… the only outcome is death, and I am anxious for that day… only then will there be peace.

via Daily Prompt: Continue


Final Justice

It wasn’t until she heard him gasp that she realized he was still alive. What was it going to take to kill this bastard? Maybe she had not mixed enough Wolfsbane in with the tea leaves. She stood over him with her left hand on her hip and the hunting knife in her right hand. She took a deep breath, looked at the knife and thought what a pain in the ass it will be to clean the blood stains off the handle. But, for the $50 cost of the knife, it would be easier to just get rid of it. She tried to remember if she had to give her ID when purchasing it at L.L. Bean in Freeport last month… struggling to remember the conversation with the sales clerk…

“Ma’am, you realize this is a hunting knife? Skinning and dressing large game. It’s a great bargain, many people buy the Buck Pathfinder.” the clerk went on and on. She was starting to wonder if she was caught up in some sort of an infomercial and was waiting for the “special offer” that comes at the end of the sales pitch. Well, it never came.

“Yes, definitely for hunting, I’ll take it.” Little did he know, she was the one being hunted and really just wanted it for protection. The 5-inch blade would allow her to conceal it easily and then defend herself when and if he got too close.  

She almost used her credit card to purchase it, then realized her mistake and grabbed it from the clerk’s hand as he started to turn away.  “I’m sorry! I meant to give you cash.”, she said forcing a chuckle and trying to appear nonchalant. He was slightly taken aback, but smiled and headed to the register with her $100-dollar bill.

The clerk smiled as he handed her the change, the bag and never asked for identification or for her to fill out any sort or registry for purchasing the knife.

She kneelt down down beside him, his eyes wide, questioning. His hand grasping at his stomach.

“What’s the matter, baby? Do you have a tummy ache?”, she asked him though she already knowing the answer.

Then he glared into her eyes and for once she felt no fear or condemnation. Deciding against using the knife, she stepped back, taking a few steps backwards to the chair and decided to let nature take it’s course. Surely, he can’t last much longer. It’s been an hour already… she chose to wait it out, to sit there and watch him suffer… as he did to her so many times before. How many times had he beaten her and then just sat on the side of the bathtub watching as she was forced to clean herself up and listen to how she had forced him to “teach her a lesson”.

Leaning forward, returning the glare she asked him, “who’s the little bitch now, huh babe?”

At that moment he turned his head to the side and began vomiting. The poison was working… and soon she’ll be free of him forever.

The Tailor

This Friday morning will begin the same way every Friday has been for the past three years.

I crawl out of bed at 7am, my eyes wet with tears. Make my way to the coffee pot to start a full pot, muttering to no one but myself, “You’re going to need a lot of this today.”

I sit at my desk and pull up photos on the computer of us. Remembering the love and joy we shared.  Three years ago today, Jason was at the tailor picking up his suit for our wedding, when he collapsed. The doctors said it was a pulmonary emboli, a blood clot to the lung. I was assured it was quick and that he didn’t suffer. That he felt no pain and died instantly. Perhaps Jason felt no pain, but I am in pain still, suffering his loss.

Three cups of coffee later, I make my way to the shower. His shampoo bottle still there, an ever present reminder. I make a mental note that today is the day I must discard it. After getting dressed in black dress slacks, and a black short-sleeved crew neck blouse, I put some make-on, another cup of coffee and a Xanax for my nerves, I prepare for my day.

On the way to my first stop, the florist, the memories sneak out of my eyes and roll down my cheeks. Katherine will have two white rose bouquets waiting for me, as she does every Friday morning.  As I walk in she greets me with a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek. While we exchange chit-chat I see the pity in her eyes.  I told her I would not be needing these bouquets anymore after today.

She walked up to me, embracing me while whispering in my ear, “You’re doing the right thing, it’s going to start getting better now.”

“I hope you’re right Katherine. I hope so.”, I muttered fighting back tears.

Saying good-bye, she reminds me about our lunch plans for tomorrow and I just smile at her, already formulating an excuse in my head why I will cancel tomorrow morning.  As if reading my mind, she warns me she is picking me up at noon and to be ready.

A short ten minute drive to the Tailor shop, feels like hours today… I pull into the side street adjacent the shop and take one of the bouquets from the back seat of the car. Every time I open that shop door, the buzzer startles me…jolting me back into reality for a moment. Frank gets up from his desk behind the counter and greets me with a smile and a warm hug. Frank is a tall muscular man and when he hugs you, you feel safe and protected, as if you’ve been properly hugged.  He takes the bouquet from my hands, commenting on how beautiful it is while setting it in the waiting vase. He’s been kind enough to allow me to bring these flowers in every week as a memorial to my precious lost love.

“Frank, this is the last bouquet. I can’t do this anymore.” I told him, fighting for breath.

He turned to me, grabbing my hand in both of his, and said it would be okay. As Frank walks me to my car and opens the door for me, I thank him for his friendship and make my way towards this morning’s final stop.

Driving to the cemetery, I can sense Jason in the car with me, I can smell him and can almost feel his hand resting on my right thigh, something he always did while I drove, just rested his hand on my thigh; reassuring, lovingly. I slowly place my hand on my thigh, sensing him there.

I find my favorite parking spot vacant, underneath a large Royal Poinciana. I know when I return to the car it will be covered with red flower blossoms as they fall from the branches, somehow making me feel as if the tree shares in my sorrow.  Slowly getting out of the car and pulling the last bouquet from the back seat I slowly walk to the graveside of my love… wondering what his expression would have been seeing me walk down the aisle on our wedding day, the wedding day that never came. Suddenly a breeze blows and takes my breath away, stopping me in my tracks. I stand there a moment, enjoying this heavenly embrace and realize that I’ve made the right decision to end this Friday ritual.

Slowly finishing the short walk to the gravesite, I am flooded with memories. I gather my thoughts and dry my eyes, placing the bouquet on the headstone and blow a kiss to my love.

via Daily Prompt: Tailor



As she lay beside him watching him sleep, her right hand resting on his bare chest, rising and falling with each breath.  His body felt so warm, just being able to touch him brought immersurable comfort to her troubled soul.  She wondered how he would react to the news she had to tell him today. She’s been stalling in telling him that she finally got the biopsy results back. He stopped asking if she’d heard back from the doctor three days ago, because each time he asked it made her cry.  She’d put it off for two days now…today she’d tell him, over breakfast. She’d make his favorite.. banana walnut waffles with a fried egg over medium.

She slipped out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. Pulling out the ingredients from the pantry: flour, baking powder, sugar… grabbed the eggs and milk from the fridge. Set everything on the counter and turned around to open the blinds over the kitchen sink… the sky was dark, thick heavy clouds. Thunder storms are rolling in. Hmmm… the news can wait until tomorrow… she wants to enjoy this day of cuddle weather with her man.


The Daily Post: Second Thoughts



I am so tired, but afraid to sleep. I’m trying to wait it out until you wake. Logically I know I should sleep now, but then I’ll be asleep and you awake! The days are getting harder, dragging on. Each day I miss you deeper, love you more. The most important part of my journey has been finding you and that you made me smile again, restoring my hope.

Everything we’ve been through has been meant to teach us to be “here”. To be liberated from the memories – don’t live there. The time is now – here – this is home. Happiness is a “now” thing. Respect the past, but leave it there. Continue on this beautiful journey and be present. Don’t chase after anything. A butterfly will elude those who try to capture it, but freely land on the shoulder of those who are still. Take time to be with yourself and realign your energy.

This my contribution for WP single word prompt:”URGENT”.

Awoken Love


You’ve awoken something in me that has been dead a very long time. It’s a bit overwhelming, I admit. It makes me afraid to be so vulnerable and trusting. But, you somehow make me abandon my senses and just simply love. I can’t explain this power you have over me, I don’t know if I want an explanation. I just know that I love you.

It’s been a very long time since I’ve allowed myself to use words like “hope”, “love”, and “trust”. Yet with you, they flow freely from my lips; just as the tears flow freely from my eyes, down my cheeks, and soften my hardened heart. And then I close my eyes and imagine the feel of your hands against my exposed skin and I tremble with longing and deep desire that I fear will never be fulfilled. You alone are my love, hold my heart. Please keep it safe. Im trusting you my beloved King.

The world around me is cruel and selfish; cold and heartless… and yet I find you in the center. Warm and welcoming offering hope of a beautiful love… it seems impossible and surreal. I’m sure I’ll awaken soon, finding myself on the cold hard concrete foundation of devastation yet again. Cursing my weakness for allowing myself to feel anything resembling love. Surely, this is not real! A love like this is only in the movies, in fairy tales…, right? Something so perfect cannot exist in such an imperfect world.