A Love Story

One hot summer day in Phoenix, a debonair Mr. Fox took a stroll down the street with his brother and saw the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life.  Such blinding beauty caused him to stumble off the sidewalk and fall smack on his butt (a stunt he would never live down).  Nevertheless, he calmly introduced himself to the stunning stranger found himself utterly mesmerized, so beguiled in fact that he went to the home of his fiancé and cancelled their wedding plans (to her merit, the stranger was not aware that he was engaged). 

Mr. Fox was ensnared by this fascinating woman who defied the “norm” not only by hunting and bootlegging, but by wearing pants.  Men’s blue jeans in fact. The audacity!  But, she cleaned up well and they were married for over 60 years.  They had two children, who had four children, who had five children, who had six children; none of whom would have come to be if he hadn’t fallen off the curb at her feet that fateful day.

My great-grandmother, that sly, pants-wearing bootlegger, would have been 106 today.  And if she were still here, I know she would tell me dirty jokes just like she always did (and making this girl blush is difficult!).   And if Mr. Fox were here, he would be grinning ear to ear, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he made the right decision.

The Plane Truth

What would you do if you thought you were going to die, and you were strapped into a seat next to the person that might be the love of your life, especially if you had never told them how you felt?

Locked in their seats, Emily and Aiden are forced to face life and death together after fate throws a lightning bolt their way.

Check out my new e-book short story at: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/214003

It's a Conspiracy!

My most recent Flash Fiction entry:

#ThursThreads - www.siobhanmuir.blogspot.com 

I was given a prompt to use the line “They take this seriously” in the piece, and a limit of 250 words.  This is also a snippet of "Under the Granite Lies", which is one of my paranormal works in progress. I was glad to be able to incorprate the prompt line. 

               Right before we got to the door I grabbed his arm.  “Aaron, I just, well…please remember that I never wanted you to have to know the things that you are about to find out."

             “Whatever I find out, I promise it won’t change the way I feel about you, Lauren,” he said. 

I clasped his hand as we walked through the house and down the hall toward the basement steps where the meeting room was.  “I can’t believe I’m walking through Camp David,” he murmured as we passed framed photos of past Presidents on the wall.

I knocked on the door, waited for it to buzz, and then pushed it open.  The room was empty, so we slid into two chairs in the back row.    

A few moments later, the door on the other side of the room opened and Dad came in. 

Aaron stood and saluted him, “Mr. President.”

“Please, it’s just Gerald here.”  He shook Aaron’s hand and patted his shoulder.

I imagined all the things Aaron might be thinking.  I was sure his mind was whirling with every possible scenario except the right one.    

The door opened again, and Victor came in, carrying a cardboard box.  He was followed by two guards, one whom we had seen earlier on the path to the garden.  They looked human enough, unless one was to accidently touch their icy cold skin.  

Victor wore a Coca-Cola logo t-shit.

“They take this seriously?” Aaron whispered.

“Oh yes.  Very.”  I assured him.

(photo of Camp David in winter, taken from Wikipedia.)

 

Desert Rain

In honor of the rain that Las Vegas has finally received, here is a poem I wrote in 2004 about redemption (from what? from anything.):

Ghost of a Chance

The desolate desert land mimics the way I feel now.
Dry, emotionless, empty.
No life.
I stand alone in the deafening silence, the grainy sands blowing around me.
Taunting me.
I have never felt so empty.

Then...
Above the orange mesas, a speckling of white clouds swarm like vultures.
Somewhere in the distance, a crow calls.
The clouds grow, billowing from white to gray to black.
I am afraid of what they bring.
There is nowhere for me to hide.
A loud crack of thunder rumbles in the distance.
I wince, not knowing what to expect.
I shield my heart with my hands as if to keep it from danger.
A sound rushes toward me, a soft vibration.
I stand strong, holding my ground, there is nothing else I can do but wait.
The rain falls at my feet and I slowly lift my face to it.
It feels cool and refreshing in this arid air, enveloping me in the sweet smell of newness.
I feel the rain on my skin, in my hands, and through my soul.
My heart opens to accept this gift of nature's redemption,
And every piece of my being feels refreshed and vibrant.