Across the road from me is a private playground. Of an evening there are lots of playful sounds. ~ When these children are grown, I pray they remember that laughter sown. ~ Pictures from birthday parties to bring smiles of joy. A feeling of nostalgia, seeing your favorite toy. ~ Endless hours playing with family and friends. Into a pleasant childhood, your mind descends. ~ I have a wide array of emotions for these neighbors of mine. It makes me happy that they get to play and shine. ~ I’m jealous of the appearance of love and laughter. Something every parent should seek after. ~ It makes me sad when I think back to my own childhood. What few memories I have, are no where near as good. ~ Where was mine? Why couldn’t I have a time? ~ I didn’t ask to be born. Why bring me into this world forlorn. ~ The plight of the first-born? Emotionally torn? ~ Then I get mad. Why was my childhood so sad? ~ From outward appearances, these children are loved. Parties, family, all seem to shine from above. ~ Rich or poor, it shouldn’t matter. Which makes me even sadder. ~ Love doesn’t have to be material. Childhood should be joyous not funeral. ~ Play little children, play. Compile those memories. I pray they stay. ~ A reminder of a love filled childhood. May the rest of your life be as good.
What’s the most money you’ve ever spent on a meal? Was it worth it?
About $50.00. Yes, it’s worth it.
In my poem Waste not. Want not. I speak of eating dinner almost every night with my bestie and her husband. When I go to the doctor, I always pick up dinner. We done have a Popeye’s in our town. That makes it that much better when we do get it.
It had been a week since the disturbing dream. He was standing in THE doorway. It was no longer a sleeping chamber; it was an amazing bath. Kessa had taken this room that had been full of painful memories and transformed it into an exotic space; airy, clean, and inviting. Why hadn’t he paid attention to it before. The bath itself was near the window. Light poured in from the great open space. Plants filled the corners. A flowering vine outlined the window. How he loved her.
He wondered outside leaning against the railings of the balcony lost in how the dream had made him feel. Pain shouldn’t feel good. Desire for his wife was always part of his thoughts. Genesis 2:24 He wanted her when and where she would give herself freely to him. This was new and frightfuly so.
Kol jumped when Kessa touched his shoulder. “You need rest.” She gently encouraged, laying her head on his back.
He held her hands. “I can’t.”
“You are going to collapse if you don’t.”
“Kes please.” He pleaded.
“You are in a horrible mood and you’re taking it out on everyone else. What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t try to help?”
He turned to face her. There was no fight left. He allowed her to lead him to the big pile of cushions. She sat down guiding him to lay his head on her lap. With gentle fingers, she caressed his face. Traced the outline of his features, massaged his scalp.
Kessa was almost asleep when a faint clank brought her around. Max appeared from behind one of the great curtains. “Forgive me, when I saw the king was asleep, I tried to leave without a sound. I failed. My queen.” He whispered.
“Come sit,” she whispered pointing at the floor beside her. “What did you learn?”
“Teo is good. Sadly, we have reason to believe this person might be from the forest. Brum’s people come and go. He has no real concept of overall loss. But stories have been circulating through different clans about missing children.”
“That’s not good.”
Kol set up, “for my overall mental stability, you can’t go alone.” He took Kessa’s hand in his, playing with her fingers. With a deep breath, he continued. “God showed me in a dream that we and Brum come to the brink of war over this. You leave me for 2 years and find our new enemy. That’s why you are drawn to the balcony searching the wilderness. You can’t go alone. Promise me you will not go alone.” He lowered his head to her side, putting his arms around her waist, “Kes you can’t go alone.”
She caressed his back.
“I’ll go with you.” Max volunteered.
Kol leaned up with tears streaming down his face. “No, in my dream you were by my side on the battlefield.” He put his head in his hand. “We need to speak with Frego. He has military training and Rajaf has been teaching him well. There might be need for his knowledge.”
Kol was done. He had nothing left in him.
Max left.
Kessa hugged Kol up as he fell apart.
Frego was beside Kessa as they stood in front of the king. Kessa didn’t know if Frego could see it but Kol was trembling as he spoke, “you had both better return.”
“I thought the law forbade women from owning property.” Inspector Hopkins asked.
“It is very complicated. I would be honored to explain the full measure of the law if need be.” He looked around the room. After a moment of no comments, our young Mr. McFarlane continued. “The second oldest document is dated 15th, December, eighteen-seventy five. It is a deed between Mr. Parker and Mrs. Merryweather for a very large estate near Caernarfon – Wales. It is a wedding present from Mr. Parker to the new couple. I tell you what gentlemen, Mr. Parker was no fool. He was going to make sure that his daughter was well taken care. Mr. Merryweather couldn’t touch this house unless Mrs. Merrweather died. And believe it or not, this document would pass judgment if brought to court. This is a genius piece of work. Another piece of fine work by Justice Burkenstock. I marvel at the closeness that Mr. Parker had with him.”
“Closeness,” Holmes’ eyes were wide open at this point in the conversation.
“Yes,” Young McFarlane adjusted his tie. “Justice Burkenstock is known now and for some time for his reclusiveness. Not to put too fine a point on it gentlemen, he hates people. The rumor is that he became this way after his wife died during child birth.”
Inspector Hopkins spoke. “Gentlemen, let me see if I am following all of this correctly. Mr. Merryweather comes to my office not two weeks ago and reports his wife missing for nigh on thirty years. This is the same Mr. Merryweather mentioned in these documents dated from seventy-five?”
“The current information we have would speculate as much,” Holmes provided.
“Mr. Merryweather is unable to produce a body therefore is unable to inherit anything from his wives estate?” I added.
“Why now,” Inspector Hopkins asked.
We continued to sit in silence thinking.
Mr. McFarlane broke the silence, “shall I explain the third document?”
“Please,” Inspector Hopkins implored, almost out of frustration.
Holmes got up from his chair, with his unlit pipe still in his mouth and stood motionless in the window.
“The third and newest document is a will from Miss Araminta Elizabeth Parker (Merryweather) to Mr. Sherlock Holmes for a cottage in Sussex Downs. This cottage was acquired by Miss Parker after a long separation from her estranged husband. She says this cottage is payment for services rendered to Mr. Sherlock Holmes.”
We all stared at Holmes hoping that he would say something. Anything. But he did not.
Mr. McFarlane looked around the room. “I would also like to note that the second will was witnessed by Justice Burkenstock. He has not signed it as such but his seal on all three documents are the same. I would wager that no one on this island would contest this document.”
“Why is this man held in such high esteem?” I asked.
“Justice Burkenstock is known for his honesty and fairness. He was a stellar parliamentarian. An overall brilliant mind.”
“Where is he now?” Inspector Hopkins asked.
“He is still living though works very little. His age is catching up with him.” We three sat in silence not knowing what to say.
Young McFarlane finally cut the air, “Is there anything else you require of me gentlemen?”
“No,” Holmes spoke dryly from the window. “You have been of the greatest assistance.”
Our young solicitor left.
Inspector Hopkins took a deep breath. “This is overwhelming. If I may ask, how do you know that young man?”
Holmes turned to look at the good inspector, “I saved his neck from the noose.”
People are amazing. A small part of my job is interacting with the public that comes to our office. Deliveries, mail, clients, and yes even folks that are lost.
Edwin McCain is performing in our town tonight. You might remember his romantic hit “I’ll be”.
Our office had a discussion about this song earlier. It holds a special place in a co-workers heart.
The mail carrier comes in and is asking about the insane amount of traffic. Always, the first thought is a wreck on the interstate.
I had no answer for this question. But as I think about it now, you can usually tell if it was a wreck by the sheer volume of semi traffic.
“Well it could be because of the concert tonight. He only had one song. I don’t know what he’s going to do for the full 2 hours.” It almost seemed (by the tone of voice) that the whole situation was a huge inconvenience.
I got so tickled. The mail carrier was unaware of our office conversation and how this song was special to my co-worker. How plans were in the works to enjoy this concert to the fullest.
The sure contrast between the mail carriers irritation and my co-workers joy was an amazing combination.
And of course, I have that song stuck in my head. EAR WORM!
Kol knew he needed to tell Kessa about his dream. He kept thinking ‘one more day. I need one more day with her and I’ll tell her.’ Days turned into months. Kol had known his wife many times since they had been married. Something about this time was different. They were in their shared bed. She was in charge. It thrilled him when she took control. This night she seemed wild. A different kind of power was flowing from her. In his mind, her body was glowing. Each rhythmic motion of her body caused him to scream. Was he really? If he was, it didn’t slow her down. His screamed seemed to fuel her. Her body was so bright he was afraid it would hurt his eyes. But he couldn’t look away.
When he reached for her, cupping his hands around her. Her breasts left burn marks on his palms. The pain seared but it felt good. He couldn’t let go. The scars on her body started to move like white snakes crawling over her skin. Did she see this? Each time he tried to form a thought in his head, she would rock, bounce, do something with her body that he didn’t have a name for causing him to scream.
His body was on high alert. This was the greatest pleasure a man could have. And knowing it with Kessa was thrilling. She did things to him. Things he needed. What was she doing? He couldn’t see. Everything was a blur. But he knew she was there. He knew she was still in charge. ‘Let go. Let go.’ He repeated over in his mind. She moved. He screamed. How much more could he endure?
“My king,” he heard her whisper in his ear. He couldn’t speak to answer her. What had she done? It felt. No words. He screamed rising up off the bed. It felt as if his body was about to explode but he wanted more.
In a moment of clarity, he was in control. This isn’t what he wanted. He was angry. With all the strength he could find, he wanted to take his anger out on her. The more he tried. The harder she laughed. ‘Was she laughing at him? His inability to purge his frustrations?’ This was unexcusable. He couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
He fell out of the bed in the floor. His body covered with sweat. His chest pounding for breath. The cold floor felt good against his skin. What was this? She was hovering over him. Then she was gone. He felt pulling and tugging. At one point he thought he saw blood. He screamed again. What was she doing to him? He just wanted more. It hurt. He thought he might die. But he wanted more.
He screamed. There was a moment of panic. Who’s panic? He heard his name repeated over and over, “Kol.” At first it was soft. Panic. It was the voice that was in panic. “Kol.” The pain in his body. He needed more.
Darkness.
He felt weak. It took great strength to open his eyes. Everything was blurry again.
No, this was water. As he lifted his wobbly head, he didn’t recognize his surroundings. “Where am I?”
Kessa’s voice was soft and low. “In the bath.” She caressed his face with a wet hand.
Poetry & More 