Little Old Spider

Ghost Over LightI remember it all so well …

 

My grandma sent me to the basement to retrieve the three missing costumes. She was cleaning up after her annual Halloween party and I’d been dropped off to help her out.

After I gave her tea and toast in bed, for her headache, she told me to check the back room in the basement for the missing items.

“Okay, no problem grandma, anything else?” I questioned.

“Yes, there is. Turn on my CD player and put on that wonderful opera singer. You can turn it up loud, too! Thanks, honey,” she replied.

I did as complied. It seemed as I left the room the sun was setting; I waved goodbye, not sure why. She smiled and began her quirky hand movements flowing with the music.

“Old people,” I muttered to myself. They’ve seen it all. I’d get her to tell me a story tonight when I bring her dinner to her at eight. She ate late on weekends, she told me, as it reminded her of the good old days.

You see Grandma had had a slight stroke, nothing serious, she just needed TLC my mother, the nurse, told me. TLC stood for tender loving care.

I walked the long hall headed for the steps and out of the corner of my eye, I swear I caught a glimpse of a ghost just above the light. That didn’t scare me but I did take a second look after I blinked. I hadn’t even been scared of the costumes last night at the party or trick or treating to the houses. I was seven now and pretty much a big guy.

Her music faded as I opened the basement door and entered the passage below to her dungeon, I mean very old house. My nose smelled something foreign, probably old clothes of Grandpas, who’d been dead five years now. I pulled the chain for the light at the bottom of the stairs. Broke. Great, I thought. I’d have to walk in the dark to the backroom. I’m a big guy, I told myself a couple more times.

My body shivered when the cricket let out its joy tune. My hands now felt like I had rubbed lotion on them and when I swallowed, three cotton balls coated my throat. Geez, I thought as my eyebrows curled up with the pull of my forehead. I felt for the door and hoped the light wasn’t broken inside the back room. Darn those cousins who played back here last night and left their costumes for me to get. Next time I saw them, they owed me a favor.

My hand, with no blood supply, turned the nob while the hairs on my forearm stood in the attendance line at a foreign military school I’d never been to. It opened. Good. Why didn’t I bring a flashlight? I thought. Shut up! Just get the costumes.

I walked slowly in the dark and lost my footing. I heard the door slam shut as I fell to the cold slab of basement cement.

Later on …

The back of my head hurt but I opened my eyes and saw her staring at me.

Was she a good witch? Her eyes glowed green and she wore black with orange and green striped leggings and, then she came for me rustling along on her broom. I blinked.

Was I dreaming? No. I saw her. She turned and howled, and she lost her pointed hat as she swooped back over me. That’s when I saw him Dracula walking my way. Man, I need to bust out of here, I thought.

I couldn’t move, I must be pinned down. Wait. Someone help me.

Scream for grandma, I decided. “Grandma,” I screamed but it was all breath, not a sound.

I heard a noise as Dracula made his way over to me. I blinked my wet eyeballs, but he was still coming for me. I turned to see where the noise was coming from and my eyes became glued to a vision I’d seen on television. Grandma told me not to watch the zombie show. Oh no.

At this point I fainted, I’m sure I did.

When I woke the vampire was looking over me licking his lips, smiling. They were glowing red and dripping the hot juice right on me. My neck hurt, I couldn’t touch it. I still couldn’t move.

Who would save me from this terrible nightmare, except I wasn’t dreaming. It was real. I said a quick prayer for any angel that might be in my presence. I sure hoped the zombie went for the vampire and then the two of them got knocked over by the witch, evil or good. She might be my hero.

Just then the door opened and, someone said, “Here he is!”

“Oh, honey are you okay?” asked my mom.

“No, I’m not!” I yelled back.

“Your head is bleeding,” she said as she flashed a light upon me. “And it’s all over your neck!” She exclaimed.

My heart skipped a beat and tried to jump from my chest like a frog.

“What?” I asked. “Mom, get me outta here.” I stood up and ran from the room towards the steps. Mom said be careful of the spider web at the top. She flashed the light on the staircase.

I replied, “A little old spider doesn’t scare me mom, nope, never.”

Spider and Web

~story by Caroline Clemens

~photography by Kim Troike

~for KellieElmore#FWF

~http://kellieelmore.com/2014/10/31/fwf-free-write-friday-boo/

Maiden Voyage

Breast CancerMaiden Voyage

by Caroline Clemens

 

Not tres yet in score, she’d been brought to port.

A mermaid of wood boasted many stories to tell,

Madonna guarded her ship protecting the fort.

Still a sting to the bosom–vulnerable, she fell.

 

Miraculously tendered by souls from the sea,

She breathed in the mountain air of endless longing,

Til it filled the cracks and porous heart of thee.

Not ship, nor shore could touch her lore storming.

 

Now, experienced with vision, compass and paint,

She burned bonds of yore: dank, musty and wet,

And pursued the seas lather to wash a new saint.

No longer the maiden voyage, rather by lady she set.

 

~A poem for the mother’s, sisters, daughters, women & men who experience breast cancer and are enlightened through living a more spiritual and stronger life, whether they wanted to or not.

~Breast Cancer Awareness Month/Pink Ribbons

~Picture credit by Kim Troike

Poetry by Jane Dougherty

Hope you are enjoying a lovely Sunday in October.

I’d like to share a poem by a fellow WordPress and Amazon author.

Visit this link to see her latest poem titled ‘Driftwood’ and beautiful painting.

I’ll have more from her in November when I showcase her work here on gardenlilie.

Click Jane Dougherty.

Just Do It

Rache's 100 Word Photo PromptRochelle Wiseoff Fields Photo Copyrighted

 

Just Do It

I wrote a song for my uncle, but he left on tour … for a year! Johnny told him I could use his old studio. My heart skipped two beats.

“One stipulation,” he whispered.  “You can not leave until you have your song.”

Ten days later after 12 hour stints and no dust left in the place, my recording was ready. That is I had the notes, the pauses, even my voice. As I was all alone, just me and two windows, my mind made it real.

I called my uncle on tour in Japan and played him my recording. I didn’t hear him speak, only silence. Then a voice I recognized as Johnny’s said, “Tell him to meet us in Nashville at Christmas.”

 

by Caroline

for Rochelle Wiseoff Fields 100 Word Friday Photo Prompt

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/10/08/10-october-2014/

Free Kindle promotion starts today

gardenlilie:

October and November will be a game changer for me on this blog. The hope is for poetry, art and guest posts from writers, all showcased for our appreciation. While I’m figuring it all out, I’ll be re-blogging others work. Today is writer Jane Dougherty from France by way of Ireland. She has a FREE short story … this I can probably do as it will give me a taste of her style. She comes highly recommended.

Originally posted on Jane Dougherty Writes:

Giving a story away is not easy. The work that has gone into it is enormous: writing, revising, copy editing, line editing, formatting, making a cover. And that doesn’t cover the emotional input.

But the point of a story is to be read. That’s why it was written, it’s sole raison d’être. If I am giving Enders away over the next few days it’s because I would like a few people to pick it up, dip into my world, and possibly get some pleasure out of the experience.

Enders is set in a world that will be familiar to readers of The Green Woman series; for others it could be an introduction to Providence and its grotesque social structure. Although The Green Woman was written with YA in mind, in the sense that the main characters are young people, there is nothing YA about Enders. Not that it’s full of…

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Autumn Awe

Leaves Today is October 1st and Fall is all about change. The word awe means wonder or struck by something. What are you struck by? What are you in wonder over? For me it’s the cool air, beautiful colors and apples, cider, too!

When you are a kid you play in the leaves, then you are told “don’t play in the roadside leaf piles because a car might run you over.” As a kid you keep exploring until someone tells you what not to do. I guess that’s partly how you learn. Today, I imagine (know) kids are taking pictures and sharing to the net, all the glorious colors and fun things to do.

 

Apples

 

My favorite apple used to be Macintosh and now it’s a Pink Lady or a Crisp. What’s yours?

When I was a kid there was Washington Red and that was it. Do you make pie or crisp or candied apples?

If you do, think about sharing that with me. I’d love to make October all about sharing.

 

 

 

 

Apple Cider

 

I’d like my  gardenlilie blog to go in another direction and let other people showcase their talents, whether they be writing, poetry, gardening, crafts or whatever.

This will be all about freedom of expression.

Oh yea, my favorite is apple cider when it comes to apples and what can be made from them.

 

 

 

Pink Ribbons

 

October is also Breast Cancer Awareness month and there are some awesome ladies who’ve conquered this beast.

If you have a story to tell, feel free to share or you can email me and I’ll share it for you.

I’m not really a pink lady myself (you know if somebody tells me to be pink over blue, then I’ll choose blue~are you one of those?) but it does represent the cause and everybody knows what it means.

Go girl power!! We are in AWE of you!!

 

 

 

 

Reflections

Lastly, October and the beautiful display of colors has us reflecting our lives in this world. Slow down and appreciate the world, reflect what you have accomplished and what you hope to do.

I look forward to sharing others talents here on my blog, please feel free to pass this forward. My email is simplykim@bellsouth.net. Contributors will be responsible for their own content and copyright.

~Gardenlilie

~Google Images Credit

~Adobe Photoshop/Author Unknown

 

 

Last Chance

Bleu MoonToday I’m finishing the followup novel to this story, I’ll be changing the book cover and combining the two novels into one. How can one possibly know how something will turn out until they DO IT?

Bleu Moon is available on Amazon through my Twitter page. These characters are so excited; they are hoping you come back and find out what they are up to. They move around quite fast so jump in quickly.

The author will be celebrating with an Oktoberfest Party either tonight or tomorrow. Usually I would attend these in person but my cyber personality (who thinks she’s a writer) has taken over for awhile. Children and to-do lists take up most of my time while the internet engages a few moments here and there.

~gardenlilie … Bleu Moon

Waiting on Me

Rhett ButlerI’m almost there and guess who’s waiting on me down below resting on the bannister? Ha ha, keep dreaming honey!!

He knows I can do it; he’s even smiling, already. Oh the things a person does to get the nerve up and keep on keeping on.

Writing is way more difficult and complex than I ever thought. And actually, I never thought about it before. I am clapping my hands for those thousands of writers who bit the bullet and made us memorable books, movies and poetry, even books for school. Kudos times a million. Until you’ve done something be careful how you judge others. I know I probably should have taken a creative path in life, all the things I did early on pointed in that direction but for me … I don’t have regrets. Maybe my study of the human heart will benefit me and others.

Good for the people that know and climb the ladder of success while they are young and brilliant, but for those of us just getting started or restarted I say age is nonsense. I always thought I wanted that office high in the sky looking out over a beautiful setting or something, like it spelled achievement. But I knew I had it all along, now I just want to do it in different ways. Maybe experience is the best teacher.

ScarlettScarlett has dirt in her hands urging me to do it again, “After all,” she says, “Tomorrow is another day!”

As soon as I finish (well before the big edit) I’ll post a little party here on gardenlilie; join me then for a celebration, all ages, genders, etc. etc.! Maybe it will be a BBQ or possibly a Chili Cook-off.

~gardenlilie

~Google Images Credit

 

 

 

Promote Myself: on Carol Browne’s blog

gardenlilie:

Here is Jane Dougherty, a writer I met on WordPress! She writes beautiful poems, hails from France but her roots are Irish in nature.

Originally posted on Jane Dougherty Writes:

Carol Browne posted an author interview with me on her rather slick new blog. The reblog button has gone walkabout so here’s the link

http://authorcarolbrowne.wordpress.com/2014/09/14/author-interview-jane-dougherty/

dark Citadel

and a picture of the cover of The Dark Citadel otherwise WordPress will most likely stick Trixie’s mug shot on the thumbnail.

Thank you Carol, they were interesting questions to answer.

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Forgotten Trail

gardenlilie:

Gardenlilie is a place for expression and showcasing others talents. Please have a look at a talented poet named River Urke … You can even listen to her soothing voice.

Originally posted on A Pocket of Agates:


A seven part poem from my upcoming book Spirit Songs. I only share the first three for now.  I was accepted to a manuscript conference with Spirit Songs.   Please, check out my campaign.  HERE
Forgotten Trail

I
My grandmother
always remembered me
amidst her dementia
and forty some grandchildren.

No matter how many years
in between
she puckered her thin lips
my way
motioning me to sit
upon her round lap
of baby flab and boobs.

I was smaller and darker
than the other kids
and an opposite of my red haired mom
the ninth in a line of eleven.

She told my mom
I reminded her of her grandma
a woman she adored
under five feet tall and dark.

She was French, my grandmother said
avoiding the story never told.

II
A story of a woman from another time
who left her home and lineage behind.

She…

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