Speaking into Existence

Speaking into existence. The power of words that flow from your heart into the Universe to the Creators of this realm and beyond. Sincerely, with passion, speak wisely and precisely of your hearts desires. Your needs and what you wish to change within yourself and within your world.
The Christian Bible says that the universe was 'spoken' (God SAID let there be light Genesis 1:3), the KEY words : LET THERE BE.
Psalm 82:6 states:I have said, Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most High. Therefore, what can be done by the Creator in essence can be done by us. Their energy is withing us, a part of us, engrained in our very fiber. It is said: John 14:12-14 12 Very truly I tell you, whoever believes in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father. 13 And I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. 14 You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it.
So. With that said, what is stopping you?SPEAK peace in your life. SPEAK Your healing. SPEAK your financial prosperity. SPEAK into EXISTENCE-LET THERE BE. What ever religion or Gods you follow...the same applies. ASK and YE SHALL Receive.
Know my loves that every night I speak into existence for all of you peace love health healing prosperity. I validate this every night having faith and believing.

Purdy Memories

 Chapter 1

Jane Purdy was one of two children born to Louisa Warrix Purdy and LaSalle Johnson Purdy. Her mommah did most of the raisin’ as her pap did most of the hell raisin’. It seemed to Jane and her sister Mary that Louisa never got over LaSalle beddin’ down with the neighbor woman that lived on the other side of the holler. Not that she should have, but it was common knowledge that around these parts you had better watch who you spark because they just might end up being some kind of kin to you.  That kind of behavior was another thing that always bore on Janes’ mind. Did her pap ever love her mommah enough? She knew from growin up that her mommah did all she could do and then some to keep him happy. She went even as far as selling two hens that the family needed for eggs to get him his very own watch fob for his birthday.

Jane was not what you would have called a beauty queen in her early days, but she had not been mudcat ugly either. She stood five feet two inches, blue-eyed high Cherokee cheekbones and long dark brown hair. She always thought her nose was big, but she guessed actually that it was not as big as most, but when you had a sister that called you hawk nose it would get to you after a while as well, she thought.  She had done all right with having two beaux to court her in her lifetime, never settling on either one of them and shunning the rest just because of their notions on what was what in this world; and how they thought it should be. She did not take kindly, no sir, to that way of thinking by anybody let alone a man. Her mommah had raised her to think for herself, as she would say “Jane Purdygirl you listen to me. This old world here we got? Well, we are in it for now and then we are gone to the hereafter or the hereafter that. Live the way you want to, not how some man is going to tell you to. Don’t get caught up in their lies and ways, because they will say anything to get you, then leave you with a house full of young’uns for you to raise on your own. Hit ain’t worth the heartache, hit ain’t worth the emptiness.”

She never forgot her mommahs words, and was much happier than her sister Mary Sue who married that Calb Helton down in the valley. It was a right nice wedding with frills and fancies and all, but it wasn’t anything that Jane would ever want. She wished her young sister well and prayed that she would be happy. Happiness came to roost for a while, until Calbs drinking got the best of what love Mary had for him. It seemed that it was true. The devil lived inside the bottle and the men around these parts worshipped him on a daily basis.

Mary ended up with two dead children, buried out back of the homeplace that Jane now lived in. It was a sad sight to see, two small caskets lowered into the cold ground while their mommah stood and stared blankly holding their only baby quilt in her hands. Calb was drunk, trying to line out the words to Amazing Grace but forgetting half of what he was trying to say. She never forgave him, and with good reason. He’d taken the children on a buggy ride against Marys’ wishes. He had been drinking, and didn’t notice that he’d veered in the way of another larger buggy. The children were flung out and runned over.

Jane stopped rocking for a second and wondered why all of that came back to her. She shook her head at the blind thoughts she sometime had. Memories. T’ain’t good for nothing sometimes other than to start tearing up.  She looked down at her empty coffee cup and went inside to get another drink of the warm brew.

She loved sitting out on her front porch in the mornings. It was a peaceful time for her, always had been. This was all hers and nobody else’s. She would watch the fog roll up from the valley below as the dew from the trees would fall like raindrops on the ground.  She would close her eyes and listen as the birds awoke, going off to feed their young’uns for the morning. When the clouds rolled in and the thunder shot off like a cannon on Lookout Mountain she would sit back far enough not to get pelted by the rain that would slide in sideways onto the rickety old porch.

This particular morning though she was anxious. She had already started the fire in the iron cook stove, burning her hand on the paper she used to light the straw. She put the water on for her coffee only to spill it on her blue work dress. It was not the end of the world by no means, but she knew that starting out like this, it could only get better or worse, and usually it got worse.  All she could do at this point is pray that the biscuits did not burn or the possum gravy came out nice and thick instead of thin and runny.  Johnson didn’t like runny gravy and irregardless of the fact wouldn’t eat it if you hand fed him from a golden dipper.  She laughed at the thought of feeding her hound dog from a dipper. Now that would be a sight for the neighbors to talk about there now, she thought to herself.

She had no worries though, as the gravy came out scorching hot and thick just like the old dog loved it, and her biscuits were as light and fluffy as angels wings. She wrapped them carefully in the parchment paper and stored them in the upper part of the stove for later on. She wasn’t much on breakfast but Johnson had gotten used to it some years back, and she just hated breaking with tradition.  She brushed her gray hair back from her face and made a mental note to purchase some store bought hair bobs the next time she went down to the IGA.

She went back out and carefully put her cup down next to the ancient rocker that had been her grandmothers long before she’d been a twinkle in anybodys sky. It was roughhewn out of an oak tree that had fell right in the back of the house where she lived. The rungs were hand carved with her initials in them, and then of her babies names on the very last one. There was many a rockin done with it, and eventually it just became another member of the family, just as a dog or cat would. Her mommah had even given it the name of “Old Betsy” when she was using it to rock Jane and her sister to sleep.

Louisa would say “Now honeychile, let’s see if Ol Betsy feels up to rocking you to sleep tonight, cause mommah shore don’t think she can all by herself.”

Jane took a sip of her black coffee feeling the hot elixir go down smoothly into her throat. She still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. She thought about going down to see Mary Sue, but knew that it would strain her nerves by Jane being there. They never were close growing up because she was the baby and was treated as such. Pap spoiled her rotten, telling anyone who would listen that she was his Godsend. He would get drunk on moonshine and tell everyone at the saloon how Louisey refused to have another baby by him and lo and behold, Mary Sue came to pass. Jane was always supposed to have been a boy. “First borned first boy” her pap would say.  And she was treated as such.

But that not withstanding with Jane and Mary, Marys’ nerves wouldn’t handle another breakdown after the buggy wreck, and what Jane thought was her sisterly duty to go do. Although she regretted Marys total and complete spiral into madness, she held no responsibility for any of it, placing the blame squarely on that bastard Calbs shoulders. 

After Marys’ babies died, Jane lit in on Calb and beat him senseless one evening. She’d left him lying in a pool of his own piss and blood right outside the same ShinDig Hotel that her pap used to frequent. Whores and bystanders alike stood in shock as the tiny woman took a two by four and slammed it repeatedly against the drunkards’ head and chest. She hadn’t cared that he tripped and fell in the muddy street, she was bound and determined by almighty God she was going to kill him that day.

Had it not been for Ben Rice, she probably would have succeeded in her endeavors. Ben, a tall rakish type feller heard the commotion and came running. Of course, he stood there a tad bit longer than maybe he should have, but he knew that if he’d pulled Jane off any sooner than he did, she would have turned on him like a wild panther, and he wanted no part of that. As soon as he saw Calbs broke arm and shattered ankle bone, he took the piece of wood, threw it out of Janes reach and bear hugged her to where he could walk her down the street and out of public viewing. He didn’t care that Calb was lying there half dead and moaning. Hell, had she killed him everyone there would have sworn it was self-defense and there wouldn’t have been a jury picked that would have convicted her otherwise.

Yeah, Jane thought, it may be best that I stay put, and whatever is going to happen let it happen. She looked over the tops of the trees and wondered how her life would have been different had she left from there. She’d had her chance to leave once, but she couldn’t bring herself to go with a man she didn’t love.

Truth be known, she probably could have learned to love him, but then what kind of relationship would that have been? Mary Sue loved Calb and look at what that got her. Her mommah loved her pap and look at what that got her as well. She sighed. There was just no good ever come of lovin any man, and she sure didn’t want to have to almost beat to death another for messin her over.

No, she decided that better alone better off gone. Her pap had passed away a couple of years before Mary had her twin boys. Her mommah just after Mary lost’em.  It got lonely up here at times, but Jane thought to herself that she’d rather be lonely than have someone around and be miserable. Mountain life wasn’t so bad after you got used to it. And this was all she ever knowed. 

 

Starrry Night

Isn't it funny what comes to mind in the darkness while everyone else slumbers.
I remember a conversation I had with my dad once. It was in the summer time, and he and I were sitting on the porch. Everyone else was in the house watching t.v. and a few of the boys were already asleep. I had been out there just looking up at the stars when he came out to sit with me.
He was quiet for a while when he asked me "What do you want to study?" he paused for a moment then said, "I mean, you keep looking at those stars like you've been there before."
I smiled and thought of the movies Bluebird of Happiness with Liz Tayler and how they had one scene of the children getting ready to come down from Heaven to earth, and feeling in my soul, that yes I had in someway been there..
I replied. "Dad, I'd love to have books and sets of encyclopedias on the stars and the oceans. I would love to just sit and learn the names of very bright spot out there, and every depth within this earth..."
He sighed and said, " I wish I could get those for you baby, I really do. Maybe someday I can afford those for you..." and he hugged me.
One of the best memories I've ever had of my dad....

Unchain my Heart

Frozen in time
My heart stands still
Quiet and sublime
Waiting for the kill
Thirsting for a life
That will never be
Until my soul
Is loosed from
Destiny

One of these Days

 

She made her way down the path toward the clearing near the creek. It was her favorite place to go. It was quiet down there, just the water for music and the birds for harmony. There wasn’t anyone else that came there, save her brothers when they wanted to play in the water.

The path led down from the road, through a grove of pines. The sun dappled the ground, playing through the needles and the leaves of the other trees that grew there.  It was a hot day, and she even contemplated playing in the water herself.

She found the spot where she wanted to be, spread out the flowered sheet her mom let her have and plopped her bag of goodies down. She smiled. Peace. It felt good here all alone with no one yelling or screaming. She took a small pillow out of her bag and stretched out on her make shift bed. She put her hands behind her head and looked up to watch as the clouds rolled by. She could always make a story out of anything, including the clouds. Her brothers loved to hear her tales, as she watched the fluffy white cotton go by, she made up wars and wins, ghost tales, the ones of fairies and dreams.

Today she saw an elephant, which would mean a trip to the circus. A face, that rightly looked like albert einstien, and a puppy dog. She saw mountains and valleys, what looked like South America and one that was definitely george jones. She thought to herself, nothing much in them today.

She took out her coloring book, the one with all the puzzles and connect the dots. She loved the puzzles, and loved doing the color by number because she could never figure out what the picture was until it was almost completed. She rolled over on her stomach and began to color.

She never heard him come down the path. She never heard him sneak up behind where she was. She never paid any attention to the shadow that was lurking over top of her till it was too late.

“Boo!” he screamed. She yelled and broke her only green crayon.

He cracked up as she swiftly turned around and kicked his leg before he could get clear from her.

He fell on the ground, unhurt, as the leaves made a cushion for his body.

She scowled at him, really perturbed that her time was now not hers.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” he asked back.

“What does it look like I’m doing???”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

She punched him in the arm as he came to sit beside her on the sheet.

“Well, I’m trying to get some alone time away from things.” She said as she turned back over on her stomach to continue her picture, minus the green crayon.

“Wellll, I’ll just stay and be alone with you. How’s that?” he smiled.

“Do I have a choice?” she glanced at him sideways.

“No.” he stated matter of factly as he started rummaging through her bag to find something to eat. She always brought homemade vanilla cake that her gran would make, along with a couple of peanut butter sandwiches and a few pieces of fruit. It was like she knew she would have company and packed extra every time.

“Didn’t think so.” She muttered under her breath. Truth was, she didn’t mind. She loved it when he would follow her down here. Sometimes she came knowing he would be a few minutes behind her. It was like he watched her moves, knew what and when she was going to do something. It got scary at times how he knew things, but she came to accept it over the time of their friendship.

“What? All you had was Coke? No Pepsi?” he asked, getting a cold can out and popping the top on it.

She cocked her head, “Beggers can’t be chosers turdball.” And went back to coloring in the princesses’ dress. It was pink and yellow. Nice colors for a princess dress.

He got out a sandwich and bit in, getting the peanut butter stuck on the roof of his mouth. He giggled, remembering the time he and her gave the dog some, and watched him lick for hours the sticky goo from his mouth and tongue.

“What?” she said, not looking up and trying to ignore how he would watch her hands move with each stroke of the color.

“Nothing.”

He took his shoes and socks off, and lay down beside her, putting his hands behind his head. He tried to see things in the clouds, but wasn’t as good as she. They were just white things floating effortlessly in space. He once saw an F-18 bust out of one like a bat out of hell. That had been awesome. Other than that, nothing really.

He slid a glance over her way, watching as she switched crayons to finish the page she was working on. She went about it like a true artist, although she couldn’t sketch herself as she wished she could, she loved to color and did so like a pro. He envied her way of staying in the lines, something he worked hard on but could never do. Must not have been in his genes to be able to do that.

“I know something.” He chimed.

He waited for her response, knowing to brace himself as he knew she was going to arm punch him again.

“Tell me.” she said without looking up at him.

“Nope. Not gonna.” He said, sing song like.

She scowled his way for a second before reaching over and sure enough, punching his arm. He grunted, and rubbed the top of his left arm, still stinging from her blow.

“Are you gonna tell me, or do I have to beat it outta you cause you know I will.” She said as menacing as she could muster.

With him, it was all fun. She never worried about hurting him; he took her punches all in stride. Tough he was, and he needed to be to hang with her. She took no crap, was a great friend, loyal to her buddies and beat the snot out of a lot of bullies who thought they could run the bus. She kept things straight.  No one even the seniors on the bus would dare cross her. She’d taken one of them down with her baseball bat for hurting a brother, and even though she was expelled for a few days, she came back the same old way.

Her motto: DON’T START NUTHIN’ WON’T BE NUTHIN’. That was something that everybody lived by where she was concerned. They found out quickly, she meant what she said and she did what she told you she would. You were her friend, her potential friend, or her enemy.

He had thought it funny the first time he’d met her. He was the new kid, getting on the bus with the rest of the hoodlums in this god forsaken place people around there called a ‘holler’. He had never heard of such a place, thinking that his dads’ transfer was going to be a good thing for all of them.

He thought that maybe a change to a new city would be great. He didn’t expect the change was going to be in a po dunk town with po dunk people who looked at strangers as aliens. If you weren’t born here, you didn’t fit. That’s the way it seemed any way.  His mom had lived here when she was a girl, and moved when she started college. They bought the house where they lived now from an old friend of his grandmothers. His dad said it was an excellent price, and he had thought to himself, who else would want to live here? Who else would want to buy a run down shack in the middle of bomb hit Egypt?

There were no streets. There were no streetlights (due to the fact, there were no streets) just a light tacked to out buildings or out houses. The road was a paved one, until you had to turn off to where he lived. It was on a dusty road that only got graveled once a year if that. He had to actually walk a quarter of a mile just to get to the bus stop! Out in the middle of no where was where he landed. Being used to catching the city bus to go somewhere, skate parks, the MALL for crying out loud!  There was nothing here! NOTHING!

Then he met her. Among all the children on the bus that morning, she was the one to stand out. The seats were pretty well filled when he got on, and there was just one with one person in it. He went down the isle, high fiving the little kids who reached out their hands, nodding to the others and smiling at the girls who were smiling and tee heeing about him. He got to the seat with the one person in it, and politely asked if he could sit down.

She gave him that stare he later learned actually did put the fear of the Good Lord in a bunch of them on there.

She nodded her head yes. He sat there quietly, not knowing whether she was just having a bad morning or just mad at the world. After a few minutes, he thought it best if he introduced himself, seeing how she was about his age and probably would be in some of his classes. Best make a friend now, and have someone to talk to rather than try to make friends once you got there. Who knew? Maybe she would introduce him around or something.

He glanced over at her. She wasn’t tall, had long long straight hair that was braided on each side of her head. She wore an ill fitting t-shirt that was too big on her, a pair of blue jeans, and a worn pair of Chuck Taylors. He could appreciate that, seeing how he had worn his Chucks till they had fallen from his feet. They were black with the Steelers logo on them. Nice. Seemed like she liked football.

She was reading a book on Ancient Worlds. He really hoped that wasn’t one of the classes. He cleared his throat and started to speak.

Out of no where, a paper wad went flying by the both of them and he watched as she sprung into action.

“JOHNNY!” she yelled at a boy that had a big grin on his face, who now was looking like he’d swallowed a goldfish.

“Do it again and I swear to you on your dead dogs grave I will break that arm of yours, do you UNDERSTAND ME?” the boy shook his head yes, and quickly turned back around.

She turned to him and smiled. Actually smiled. “Sorry bout that. They get rowdy and I have to get bowdy. Johnny’s a sweet boy, but he gets outta line easy and I have to make him tow it every once in a while.”

It was his turn to swallow hard. She had the bluest eyes he had ever seen. Not only were they blue, but he had never seen eyes that had gold flecks in them. It was like gold dust, shimmery in the blue pools of color. Her lashes were long, so long that she wouldn’t have needed that black junk that girls put on them. She wore no make up at all. Her smile was infectious as he smiled back at her. The paper wad broke the silence and now he had an opening he could take.

“That’s okay. I’m sure it was all in fun. My name’s Rand. What’s yours?” he stuck out his hand and she hesitated for just a second before she took it to shake.

“Glad to meet you. My name’s Josie.” She didn’t look away shyly like some girls did when he met them. She stared at him, studying his face, looking directly into his eyes. He turned away first, flustered at this.

“What grade are you in this year?” he said looking at the other kids looking back at him and her, just waiting to see if she was going to pound on him or let him live.

“Seventh. You?”

He smiled. “Yeah! Me too!”

They had a lot in common it seemed, music (but not that crappy classical she liked), movies, and some books. He liked the Cowboys, she liked the Steelers which made for a very good rivalry, and she liked the Pirates (of course) and loved watching hockey it didn’t matter who. That stood to reason with her he thought, but didn’t dare say it out loud. She would have made a very good hockey player. She also loved cars and anything to do with cars which led him to blurt out “But you’re a girl!” too late. It had already been said. The three kids in front of them turned around quickly to see what was going to happen to him. To their amazement, Josie scratched her head in thought, “You know, I keep getting told that, but for some reason that hasn’t been proven much by any body.” There was an audible sigh escaped his lips.

He found out later that Johnny was her younger brother, one of six that she had to make ‘tow’ the line. She also kept the peace on the bus; most of the kids knew she meant business. She had told him about a girl who didn’t want her brothers’ name down on the list for jumping over seats. She had written her own brothers’ name down as well, and wasn’t about to take either one off. The girl thought she could bully her, and three days later, found herself waking up in the hospital for a few days. She had taunted Josie for three days, and walking from the bus stop home, the girl called her a name. Josie told him that she didn’t remember much, other than her brothers dragging her off the girl.

“You mean you took it for three days before wailing on her?” he had asked never meeting anyone like this girl. The girls at his old school dressed to kill, never chipped a finger nail and had their mummies drive them to school in BMW’s and Porches. Fighting? No way!

She had looked down, not liking to talk about it. “Well, I tried to give her a chance. I didn’t want to hurt her. I told her to please leave me alone, I was just trying to do what was right, and that stuff like that could distract the bus driver and kill us all. I had a cousin who died in a bad bus crash in the Big Sandy before I was born. And she tells me things. Still. She comes to me, and I just don’t want that to happen to us.” She had whispered the last part to him, not wanting anyone to think she was crazy. He hadn’t thought she was crazy, he thought she was fascinating.

The school was small, no where near the size of his old one. And yes, even in this small of a place, there were still the lines of class drawn. You had the poor ones, the rich ones, the snooty rich ones and the trouble makers. He watched her the first week, not being able to figure out which group she fell in. She never shunned the poorer kids (he knew her situation about that), but the rich kids liked her to. There was a football player who asked her to wear his jersey on the days they had a game. The cheerleaders liked her, the snooty kids even talked to her. Seemed like there was no classifying who she was or exactly what she was to them other than a friend.

He fit in with the rich ones, the jocks and the cheerleaders thought he was cute. He was popular it seemed here, more than he had been at the old school.

The first year of school there seemed to fly by for him. He joined the teams, made good grades, watched Josie de-ball a boy that had been bothering her (and yeah, get paddled and expelled for two days), and had an off again on again love by the name of Shelby Anne.

Josie lived above him, and her brothers would come down to play foot ball with him, and swim in their pool. Josie wasn’t allowed. Her dad was very strict on her to the point of stupidity. Rand was allowed up, only when he went off on one of his month long binges.

The summer came, school went out, and her dad thankfully went off on one of those binges of his. Josie was free for at least a little while. Her mom didn’t mind if Rand came to visit and she didn’t mind if they played catch in the yard, or if Josie and him went down to the creek to catch crawfish.

Josie’s mom for the most part was a nice hard working woman, who reminded much of his own mother in a way. She’d had a hard life, and it showed on her face. She did the best she could with what she had, and although they lived in a shack of a place, kept it clean.  Josie’s mom was also very religious, taking the children almost every night and twice on the week ends. He had even went a few times, but being raised Catholic, any other church was foreign to him.

“Well?” her voice brought him back to the present.

“Well what? OH! Yeah…I know something…” he grinned at her and rolled quickly off the sheet and onto the hard ground.

He quickly got up on all fours, and leaped to his feet with his hands on his hips.

She just lay there, not making a move, knowing that he wanted her to chase him. She just wasn’t going to do it this time. He would tell her, and tell her without having a chase.

“I don’t care.” She said.

He grinned, “Yes you do.”

She looked at him. “No I don’t.”

“Ooohhh yeesssss yoouuuu dooooo….” He sniggered back.

“We can go on like this forever Rand, or you can tell me. I can beat you till you can’t move, throw you in the creek for the crawdabbers to eat out your eyeballs, or you can tell me. Now. Which one is it going to be?”

His hand went up to rub his chin in mock thought. He furrowed his eyebrows, crossed his eyes, made a coughing sound, and sat back down where she was at.

“Not up for the chase today?” he inquired.

“Nope.”

“That’s fine. You’d lose anyway.” He hit her on the back of her head.

She turned around to look at him….

Home Again

If words could express

The mixed emotions

You put me through

If the seconds themselves could just stand still

If the world could be locked out

For just a moment in time

Then you would know

You would know

How much you mean to me

You would know

That I would give up everything

You would know

That I would surrender all

You would know

That I already have….

Spirit of the Dead

 

Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness- for then
The spirits of the dead, who stood
In life before thee, are again
In death around thee, and their will
Shall overshadow thee; be still.

The night, though clear, shall frown,
And the stars shall not look down
From their high thrones in the Heaven
With light like hope to mortals given,
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee for ever.

Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions ne'er to vanish;
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more, like dew-drop from the grass.

Spirits of the dead
edgar allen poe

He held her there, not letting her move, as he continued to flick his tongue in between her open legs. She could feel herself getting wet, her ass moving up slightly so he could get to her. He opened her up, inserting his finger into her vagina. She came, right into his hand, juice flowing from an eternal spring. He lapped it up like a thirsty cat, drinking every bit of her that spilled.
She went to turn around again, and again, he stopped her. She was at the bottom of the bed, her arms above her head, her still not being able to turn around to see his face.

He still worked his finger in and out, causing her to tighten around it, feeling it like feeling his penis, stroking in and out of her. She rolled her eyes up, moaning, feeling his finger start to stroke her clitoris. She felt his other finger start to stroke her anus.. This scared her a little, until she heard his voice over her sighs, “fiez-vous à moi mon amour, fermez vos yeux et fiez-vous à moi..”she felt her body go, her muscles became more relaxed. Trust him he said, close my eyes and trust him. Her whole body went limp, she willing her muscles to release all the tension she had felt. She could feel his finger, gentle, tiny little strokes on her anus, as his other finger worked magic else where, getting her more and more excited as the seconds passed. She felt a slight pressure there, and felt his finger go in just a little. It was a strange experience for her, both places being massaged at the same time, it felt...wonderful, strange, breathtaking...

She let go again, hearing him moan as well, feeling him this time pushing somewhat harder, moving in and out to her breaths. Her body moved with this, her hands gripping the sheets so tight that they came off the mattress. She began to moan louder, her body moving now, slowly to his fingers. She could feel him, his hardness on her, on her crack, wet with her juices he had rubbed on his hardness. His finger came out of her, and she could feel his cock slide into her, filling her. It hurt at first, scaring her, but he was gentle, just pushing a small amount at a time until she could take it all. His other finger never left her love canal, wet, the bed, his hand, his cock, hard with anticipation of this new fore’ into the dark ways of lovemaking...
She took it, holding her breath, and relaxing, having to, it feeling so weird, but so good. She was so horny that she thought at one point she would come at least a hundred times. It was endless the feelings she was having. She tingled and shook with each orgasm, as his stroke in her became more and more urgent. He held her there, his hand on her ass, drawing her to him, pushing her back, pulling her to him once again.

Her head filled with the grunts of him, even though she couldn’t see him, she could vision him, his head back, his long hair wet with sweat, his body glistening now with it, she could feel his face over her body as he bent over her with each stroke, droplets of his water falling on her back.

She could feel him, starting to tighten, his strokes getting more aggressive...she tried not to panic, but just to enjoy the feelings of this. Once again the tingling started all over, and she thrust backwards hard, wanting him now, to pound harder into her, to feel all of him in the virgin place, wanting him to come deep within her.

His finger came out of her, and both hands were firmly placed on her ass. She could feel his grip, his nails digging into her flesh, scraping down as each stroke was met from him by a moan.

The tempo got faster, more aggressive from him, him slapping her naked ass as she took it all in, feeling his balls flap against her vagina, making her that much more wet. They were beginning to tighten to the feel of all this, and the motion kept her breathless.

His hands became rougher with her, grabbing her hips, then her ass, as she lay there in the same position he put her in, he grabbed her legs, and pulled her to him, as he drover harder into her.

Just as she thought she couldn’t take any more, his hands traveled back up to her ass, and he inserted his finger back into her vagina. Slow strokes with it, fast strokes with the other. She came. And came again, hearing him moan softly himself, “ah oui mon ange, il se sent bien ainsi, j'aime être à l'intérieur de vous en estimant que vous me voulez”(ah yes my angel, it feels so good, i love being inside you feeling you want me).

She felt him pound into her hard, once, twice, three times, grunting loudly now, and she felt the hotness of his seed into her, spewing, pumping into her and she loved it, loved every decadent moment of this wild passion. She was spent, as she knew he was. She felt him pull out of her, and kiss her there, kiss her ass, and kiss her legs. She crawled back on the bed, and rolled over on her side, breathing hard, tears running down her face, silently so as he wouldn’t know.

She couldn’t figure out what all this was, what just happened to her, how she let him do that without a thought and above all, she liked it. She liked the feeling of having him where no one else had been, of having him inside her in every way...

She wiped the tears from her eyes, and felt his hands around her, his strong arms holding her once again.

“mon amour, mon ange. ma petite fleur. vous êtes si spéciaux à moi....”(my love, my angel. my little flower. you are so special to me....).

She was weak and shaky, and really needed to go use the bathroom. She rolled over, to finally get to kiss his wonderful lips, the ones that had been all over her body...

She rolled over to hold him and have him hold her in the glow of the night....

Sea of Life

You drift away slowly

Like a toy boat upon the sea

Getting ever smaller to my eyes

Until there is nothing left but me

In my heart I knew you would

And I enjoyed what time we shared

I hold no ill within my soul

Thank you so much for the care

Spirits come and go

That is the life we live

We intertwine as do vines

Some take, others give…

I Am

She was asked once by a stranger just who she was, and was taken aback by the rudeness of this person. She smiled at him as she let him pass by and thought upon the question he posed. Late that night, as the sun had set, leaving the hues of a golden pink glow, she got out her tablet and pencil and began to write:

Who Am I?
I am the beginning of another life, the start of a new generation
I am the daughter of my parents, the sister to my siblings
The chosen
Of my grandmothers tribe.
I have bright blue eyes
My hair is light brown
I am half breed but
The blood of my elders flows
Through me
I am a student to the Great Spirit, learning daily
As I walk the path, He has given me
I am a soul with no beginning as I have always been
I am a mind with no end as it always will be
I am a teacher a preacher a saint and a sinner
A warrior the peacemaker
I am all things to each that encounter me
I am a part Mother Earth
As I shall return to her waiting arms
I am a part of the rain, as my tears fall
I am feelings emotions held together by string
I am the prayers that are raised the sounds of laughter
As the children play
I dwell within the dreams you conjure
Walking upon the mists of the night
I am the Dawning of tomorrow
I am the fading moonlight

She put down her pencil, picked up her paper and walked to the old wooden porch. She sat on the top step and as the moon shone down upon her, she smiled. She knew who she was, maybe just maybe others will know her too…

Fallen

The Angel wept over the sea
As her tears fell like diamonds
The moon hid behind the clouds
The waters they did beckon
"Come closer sweet winged one come closer to the edge
let us embrace your loving soul" She closed her eyes and did descend into the blackness of the shoals

13 Goals of the Witch

THIRTEEN GOALS OF A WITCH

   I.   Know yourself
  II.   Know your Craft 
 III.   Learn
  IV.   Apply knowledge with wisdom
   V.   Achieve balance
  VI.   Keep your words in good order
 VII.   Keep your thoughts in good order
VIII.   Celebrate life
  IX.   Attune with the cycles of Terra
   X.   Breath and eat correctly
  XI.   Exercise the body
 XII.   Meditate
XIII.   Honour the Goddess and God

DRUSILLA/ANGEL/DARLA/CONNER/ANGELUS/FAITH LINKS TO FACEBOOK FANSITES

https://www.facebook.com/PrincessDrusilla
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Darla/388660057893406
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Angel/115592858595077
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Connor/316717505112911
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Angelus/453488461361745
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Faith-Lehane/461978330505741

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lorne-aka-The-Host/269152989779485
https://www.facebook.com/RupertLexiGiles

Maxie Reed: Flapper Grace

Maxie Reed

 Flapper Grace Part 1

She was a skinny little hussy with a pale complexion, not too tall but tall enough to scare the boys. Her hair was short and greased back, leaving small ringlets in the front that fell over her rhinestone headband with the large red feather. Her lips were thin, but so was her face. Thankfully, a little lipstick would give her the perfect kewpie doll lips and some red rouge would fill in her cheeks. Her momma always said her best feature was her eyes, dark brown almond shaped and wide. She did not like them at all, reminding her of what her grandpa would refer to as doe eyes. She looked in the mirror again just to make sure her cheeks were even with color.  Her legs were bare and her scuffed red pumps were a small for her long feet, but she had to wear what she could find. The dress had been her sisters’ favorite and now it was all hers to flounce around in. It was a sleeveless A-line with fringes all the way around from the V-neck to the hem. The purple material was not her favorite but she did like how it flowed when she walked, swinging her hips in time to the music playing in her mind. Her clothing was always either too big or too small depending on which family member it had belonged. This particular piece was big in the bust (as Maxie was not that well endowed), and a little bit longer than what she would have wanted it to be. It had to suffice for right now she thought, but as soon as the ‘right man’ came along, she would have all the clothes she wanted, all the food she could eat and nothing would be able to stop her from having a great time.  .

As she walked along the crowded street, the fringes of the worn dress would dance on her body as she shimmied by the store windows with the newest fashion from Paris and London. She wondered where all those people were going to so late. There was not a lot to do here in this hellhole and it stretched the limits of her imagination seeing women in furs and men in tuxedos laughing as they passed her by unnoticed. She parked herself next to a set of steps leading up to the large brownstone building. Surely, someone would see her and invite her in this time, she thought.  She leaned up next to the stone structure as she had seen the women over on the other side of town do.

 Maxie was the kind of girl that watched everything. Her mind was like a sponge when it came to little details, like the woman who wore the white button up shirt with her simple gray jacket.  It would have passed by everyone else, but the buttons were on the right side instead of the left, which meant it was a man’s shirt. It confused the worldly girl. Why would a woman want to wear a man’s outfit? Each time she saw her, she had on a suit, sometimes a fedora, and every once in a while, she would walk with a woman as if she was the man. Maxie saw her one evening with a bleached blond tart, walking slowly down the street. The woman had on a black tailored suit, the kind they wore in courtrooms. She had on a black hat and carried a cane with a silver wolfs head. The woman with her was very pretty, having on a long burgundy gown that fit to her curvy form. Her hair was as short as Maxies but with no ringlets in the front, just wisps of blonde. She had on a white fur coat and Maxie wondered how many rabbits had been unmercifully slaughtered for that one piece.  Blondie was taller than Gray Suit, which made for an odd pairing, as Maxie thought to herself that women should be shorter than men when walking.

They stopped a few feet from where Maxie sat on the stoop, and she heard the woman in the suit tell the woman in the dress how glad she was that they were together. A few days later, the woman in the suit walked past her but stopped, turned around and smiled at Maxie.  Maxie smiled back at her as the woman approached where she was.

“Well hello there.” The woman said in a husky voice.

Maxie beamed her pearly whites even more with a, “Hello yaself handsome!” she caught herself but not in time. That would be something she would say to a man, not a woman. She did not seem upset by the miscue at all and laughed at the expression on the young girls face.

The woman in gray extended her manicured hand for Maxie to shake. Maxie took it, shaking it lightly as the woman had a nice grip. She noticed her fingernails, and how clear and straight they were. She had such pretty nails that reminded her of her mommas. There was no dirt under them as her own had, no torn cuticles. This woman took care of herself that was evident.  Momma said anyone who took time out to make sure his or her hands were nice looking made sure anything else would be nice looking too. Momma was never wrong. Maxie pulled her own ragged hand away and put them behind her back.

“How would you like to have dinner with me Sunshine?” the woman bent down to look her in the eyes and grinned. Maxie was elated! No one had ever bothered to want to feed her before, and she jumped at the chance to have something hot for a change. She always found something to eat in the dumpster behind the building as it connected onto a few restaurants in the back before going home in the early hours of the morning. That was also the best time to find food, right after the diners had closed for the night. They would throw all their scraps in the big green bin, and if you made it in time, you could beat the rats and dogs to it.

“That would be great as long as you’re payin’” Maxie said with a giggle.

The woman tweaked Maxies nose, took her hand and led her across the street.  Walking a few blocks down, and trying to make small talk with Maxie, she asked about her parents.  Maxie always replied when asked the same thing, “Oh, they’re around, we live in the other part of town. I’m just on this side for a while waiting on Uncle James.”  Gray Suit smiled wistfully thinking of another “Uncle James” in another girl’s life.

The continued, walking in silence until Maxie could not resist asking her.

“So, you got a name?” She inquired, for a change not feeling the trepidation of leaving with another stranger that she would later have nightmares.

Gray Suit licked her lips and smiled down at her. “Georgia, but my close friends call me George.” She said. A few more crooks and turns down one street and onto the next found them at a small blue painted house behind the taller brownstones that sat in the front.

It was not as big as Maxies’ house, but by the looks, it was well kept and cozy. Blue was also a favorite color of hers, and the white trim on the porch posts just made it pop. If Maxie had any worries at all, they evaporated just by the fact that this house was blue. She smiled; this is going to be a nice night she thought.   

George fished in her front pocket for a set of keys and upon opening the door, she stepped aside, “Ladies first”. She said to the small thin girl. Maxie did not know what to think. No one had ever… she looked at this strange woman for a split second before grabbing her and hugging her tight, as the tears began to fall from her eyes. In the eight months or so that she had been out on the street, no one had ever treated her nice before.

  Appear seductive she coached herself. Droop your eyelids and smile at the well-dressed men she heard her momma say in her head. She licked her red lips at a man who passed by not giving her a second look. She furrowed her brow and waited for the next one to come along.  It was getting dark quicker, as the days got shorter. Winter would soon set on and she wanted to keep that thought far from her troubled mind. She wanted to think of now and the present, not what lay in store if things did not change for her soon. Her stomach growled, jerking her out of her thoughts as she spotted another man a few yards down the street window gazing.

Maxie reached for her black clutch and extracted her cigarette holder and a cigarette. She put it in the holder and stuck it between her teeth like she saw the women in the talkies do.  She hiked up her dress over her knee to let her bare legs show, crossing them, and sticking them out just a little further into the street. He would stop for her or she would trip him, she thought as his steps progressed toward her.

As he approached, she observed everything about him, as if taking a photograph of him in stop motion time. He had a black fedora cocked to the side resting on silver/white hair. He was an older man; life had worn him around the eyes. His hands were gloved in black leather; his coat was double breasted and had beautiful silver buttons going down both sides. He carried an umbrella (Maxie had forgotten they were giving rain) in one hand along with a black briefcase. He is a banker; she surmised smiling to herself as she stepped out in front of the startled man. 

“Hiya handsome! Gotta light?” she said in her best sexy voice. She put her holder back in her mouth and waited for him to retrieve a match.

Brandon Marks had been in his own world, going over statuses and timetables. Things were about to happen and he did NOT want to be a part of it, or caught up in the aftermath.  He had been trying to figure out all day how to transfer the funds from one stock to another portfolio without raising eyebrows at the firm. He did not know why this made him nervous; it was something that happened every day. Nevertheless, he had news, inside information that could devastate the whole firm.  He only had twenty-four hours to process the information and deal with the onslaught of knowing and not telling. This was all him and all on him.

He hadn’t noticed the skinny waif until she jumped out at him scaring him out of his thoughts.

“What the hell?” he exclaimed, almost backhanding the poor child.

Startled at his reaction, Maxie jumped back stumbling over the crack in the street and falling flat on her ass.  She stared up dumbstruck at the giant that loomed before her.

Brandon threw down his case and umbrella, bent down and grabbed her arm, roughly lifting her up to her feet. “What do you think you’re doing out here this time of night? Shouldn’t you be at home in bed?” he scolded her.

Maxie, on the verge of tears stammered, “Geeze Louise Mister, all I asked for was a light! I didn’t ask for a lecture!” she dusted her backside off, trying to straighten her fringes out in front, and smooshing her breasts back in place afraid that the papers she’d put in there before she left would show.

He stared at her sternly wanting to say more, but not exactly knowing how without hurting her feelings or anything else.  He dug out his gold pocket watch, the one his father had given him the day he started work at the firm and saw that it was well past six pm.  Brandon sighed, and ditched all the previous thoughts of work he had.

“What say you throw that cigarette down and we go get a cup of cocoa?” he tried smiling fatherly at her but came off as more of a letch.

Maxie drew back. She knew these types. They looked clean and rich but they wanted to always do the dirty in the back alley next to the Chinese dumpster. It made her sick every time she was taken back there, not because of the stench of the garbage, but because of the invisible stench of the man..

She bent down, not taking her eyes of Mr. Wallstreet to retrieve her now broken cigarette. She did not know where she would get another one at, as she had stolen this one from the old hag sleeping on the bus bench.

He wondered just how old this girl was. She could not have been more than fourteen at the most, reminding him somewhat of his granddaughter Stephanie, whom he had not seen since being uprooted and moved to Paris because of the scandal Stephanie’s mother had caused with the Judge in her divorce case.

He reached out his hand once again and this time she reluctantly took it. He smiled at her, this time a little more relaxed than leering. He fetched the briefcase and umbrella from the street and they walked quietly for a while down to the malt shop.

Chapter 2 Maxie Reed meets the Tycoon

Maxie always taught to be obedient took his hand and braced herself for what was to come next. She was guessing that cocoa meant the dirty; as men like him she guessed would never use certain words in the presence of a lady.  She glanced up at him and for a fleeting moment wished, he could have been her father. He was not ugly, as a matter of fact, if she liked older men instead of judging all of them by Valentino, she could have fallen for this guy.  He was what would be the word her momma would use? Distinguished? No the word was class. Momma would have said this man had class.  She noticed how straight his posture was. Most men she saw seemed to have the weight of the world laid upon them, their shoulders bent their backs broken by the worries of life. This man had none of that. His face she observed was free of the worry lines in between his eyebrows. Well, that is what her momma called them anyway. His fingers were long, his hands wide. His grip was firm and strong, but he did not hurt her as the others had.  This made her suspicious of him. Why would he be this nice to her to start off with, unless he was a killer or worse yet…. A priest!

Get hold of yourself Maxine, she said in her mind. A priest would not look like a million dollars and a priest would not go after a child anyway. They have far too much fun with the nuns.