The Man In The Glass House

 

Glass house

Glass house (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I loved looking at the big imposing building, every time I strolled past, my straying eyes would always seek out the glasses which seemed to cover the length and breadth of the house. One day after school, I decided to speak to my mom about the mysterious house and its elusive occupant.

I had finished my lunch when I brought up the topic and knowing how my mom detested gossiping, I put on my most innocuous look, mom had once told me I had dreamy eyes so I reckoned If I gave her a shot of that she wouldn’t be so keen to shut me up.

”Hey mom,” I began tentatively, trying to see if she was in a good mood, ”Do you know anything about the owner of the glass house down the street?”

She glared at me with a hiss and stood up totally ignoring me, and I grunted in dismay, it was like squeezing water out of a rock, my mom wouldn’t  assuage my hyperactive imagination.

The next day after school, I told my best friend about the glass house that I wanted to check it out, would she care to come with me?

”Not on your life,” she had replied unconvincingly but I knew Tia, she would do anything for me.

”Please!” I begged with my cutest smile and dreamy eyes… well…, she succumbed. I smiled with satisfaction but also knew I was treading on dangerous terrain.

”When are we going?” Tia asked with a frown, I noticed she wanted to get it over with.

”Today after school,”

I said and the day flew past like a fly on a mission.

After school, with my bag slouched over my shoulder,  we walked home, Tia was exceptionally quiet, after walking for about twenty minutes, we got to the front of the glass house and I hesitated briefly.

Tia looked at me and asked in a whisper,

”Do you really want to go ahead with this?” And I nodded in the affirmative.

”So, how are we going to get in? We can’t climb over the fence.”

Tia was becoming more of a pest than a friend and I toyed with the idea of going in alone but I couldn’t risk it, what if something went wrong? I glanced briefly at my wristwatch, it was almost three in the afternoon, mom would be worried if we don’t go home soon.

Without thinking, I pressed the white bell attached to the massive gate and suddenly the gate flung open to show a breathtaking view of the house, dazed with the beauty, I sauntered in, I’d totally forgotten I was with Tia.

Tia had done a disappearing act, I took a few paces inside the gate and I saw a figure standing outside the house, the man’s features was not that visible but he looked quiet old. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go in, I retreated backwards with a word of greeting to the man,

”Good afternoon, you’ve got a beautiful house!”

”Thank you, why not come in,”  his baritone voice sounded friendly but something else made up my mind for me.

There was no mistaking the sound, it was a low rumbling growl, I glanced sideways and saw a very massive Alsatian dog, I didn’t wait to find out whether the dog was on a leash or not before I took to my heels.

I got home to meet a very angry mother, Tia had told my mom about our little escapade. Well, if you’d read a few things about my mom, you would have known the rest of the story. When my dad came back from work and mom told him what happened, dad took me to the garden with a stern look on his face.

I turned to face him, expecting an earful but he simply asked me why I went to the house.

”I’ve heard people say strange things about the man and I was curious, I wanted to find out for myself.”

My dad kept quiet for a while before speaking and let me repeat that his words stuck with me till today.

”Life is not a story, it is not fiction, life is real. In stories, you make up people and tell them what to do but in life, people do the strangest thing in the confines of their homes. You were lucky today, don’t ever go where you were not invited, ever again.”

I realised my mistake, I mused, the man could have been a serial killer but I wasn’t convinced, maybe, he was a man with secrets but who doesn’t have one?

”Yes dad,” I said with eyes downcast and then it occurred to me.

”Can I write about him dad, my story, my own words,”

My dad smiled and gave me the go ahead to write the story.

I wrote ”The Man In The Glass House” when I was thirteen, in my own words. The man was not a villain, in my mind, he was a hero, I don’t know anything about him, nobody does and I guess what people don’t know they made up.

I wrote the man’s story in a notebook, when I finished, I gave it to my dad to read, he loved it and gave it to his secretary in the office who typed it for me. But publishers thought my imagination was too strong for a girl my age and that was where it ended until this morning when I found my notebook in the loft while rummaging for some stuffs.

And I made a promise to myself to write the man’s story. The man died before I left home, I stood outside the house after he was buried, wondering why he was such a recluse, with no family nor friends, at least I don’t see anyone near his house.

One day, I am going to release the story of the man in the glass house, would you read it when I do?

Thanks for reading my story friends!

TIME (Mina’s Pain)

Map of Essex, UK with Southend-on-Sea highligh...

Map of Essex, UK with Southend-on-Sea highlighted. Equirectangular map projection on WGS 84 datum, with N/S stretched 160% (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The cloud was grey and I squinted my eyes at a tiny shred of light which rebelled and stung my eyelids. The gentle lapping of waves was music to my ears and I wondered briefly when I would be judged.

I was going very fast down a tunnel, it was akin to the last time dad took me to Southend-on-Sea in Essex, where I made sure I participated in every activity, the rides were the best. The utmost feeling of exhilaration and belly ache due to uncontrolled laughter is deeply entrench in my memory but this one was a little different. I wasn’t holding on to any safety belt, rather I felt suspended, weightless as if I was in space and then there was a heavy thud when I landed on a hard surface but it was still dark and I couldn’t see a thing.

I died, didn’t I? I was sure of it, I tried turning my neck but I seemed to be  tied to some sort of plank or stretcher, whatever it was I had no idea, but I wanted to run, get out of where I was. I tried opening my eyes but I couldn’t and panic steadily built up within me.

I tried licking my lips but it was the same, I couldn’t do anything, all my senses were on fire, maybe I am in hell, I was never a good girl, always getting myself in trouble, I mused with a grimace, actually I wanted to smile but I am kind of getting used to not been able to tell my body what to do.

Suddenly, there was a cracking sound and I heard a door opening with footsteps coming nearer and nearer. There were voices, male and female voices, next thing  I heard was a short laugh and there was silence. I could bet  my life on it that my heart was beating so hard it was louder than any CGI effects.

The waves again with the sounds of seagulls assaulted my senses, their wonderful chorus grated on my already hyperactive nerves. Another shaft of lighting was coming through wherever I was and the music, oh, how I loved it!

It was Michael Jackson’s song ‘Heal the world,’ and it dawned on me, I am not dead, I don’t think the devil would play such a song in Hades, nobody would dance to it, besides, he doesn’t care about the world, but where the hell am I?

Unfortunately for me, the footsteps faded away into the distance, my chance was lost, gone. That was when I noticed the temperature, it was extremely cold, piece by piece, things began to fall into place, I remembered the three men, the attack on me at the alleyway and then in my room, and dad fighting and…

The worst possible scenario was, I died, they took me to the mortuary but now the possibility of me freezing to death wasn’t such a bad idea, at least I would be gone and perhaps my parents would find closure. Speaking of closure, I didn’t recollect seeing mum, it was only dad who came to my rescue and his words,

”You are safe now Mina,” was loaded with meaning, I have to find out what he meant by that, there are too many questions and I have to be alive to ask those questions, I have an inkling my dad knew more than he was letting on. My resolve was to get out of my confinement and do something, I can’t go silently in this horrible cold and expect dad to be fine, but what about mum?

Then there was a miracle, I heard footsteps again and the voices weren’t so muffled like the first time. A woman’s voice was speaking rapidly and then there was another voice, husky and so familiar but I had no idea what he said. After that I heard another sound, it was as if someone was clicking a gun and I gritted my teeth ready for anything, at least I could grit my teeth, which was an improvement. But it was nothing, the feet were getting closer, I strained my ears and heard someone said,

”She didn’t suffer Dan.”

Dan? That was my dad! My dad is in the room. I tried to conserve my energy so I could function well when suddenly I felt a rush of adrenalin and I was gasping for breath as I was pull out and then there was pandemonium. A woman screamed and there were rushing of feet, but I could breathe, I opened my mouth but my eyes was still closed, I cleared my throat and said weakly.

”Can someone please give me a cup of water please.” My voice wasn’t so bad, I thought, pleased with my progress and the next thing I did was to try to open my eyes and when I did, I saw a familiar face, someone I’d given up for dead. Never mind it was me in that place now.

My brother, Albert, his face was like I remembered, strong jaws, serious eyes, bushy eyebrows and his dimples, those dimples used to drive women crazy. He was fearless and the only one who could approach me.

He moved closer, peering down at me with his boyish grin, his teeth was still sparkling white but I noticed everywhere was silent and I tried to move my neck,

”Don’t move,” he whispered softly, his eyes never leaving my face for once, ”Dad’s gone to get the doctors.”

”What happened? Why did you leave home?” My voice was still hoarse and I had to use every ounce of energy within me to speak.

”We’ll talk about that later miracle Mina,” he countered, taking hold of my hand, ”you’re so cold, you scared teh hell out of everybody Mina,”

”But you are not scared,” I said, and my voice was getting stronger.

”I don’t scare easily,” was his reply and my dad came in with a bunch of doctors and nurses.

The next few weeks was crazy, the press were practically a permanent feature at our Kilburn High road home. I was shielded from the press because of fatigue, I didn’t think I could face them anyway. But dad was noncommittal, he didn’t want to tell me anything and  mum was still in the hospital in induced coma because of her massive injury, Albert told me that after I’d continually nagged him for details.

But dad’s behaviour was strange, it was as if he was expecting me to live and not die, even with over ten snake bites on my face. After the attack in my room, he was able to send the three strange men packing, how he did it I had no idea. I was later taken to the hospital where I went into a coma, came out of it and two days later died in the afternoon.

They transferred me to the mortuary where I woke up the next morning when I am to be taken for burial but there were loopholes and dad refused to fill me in. Then, the surprise of the century, my brother suddenly returned home after four years of zero contact.

None of it made sense, Albert was in my room one hot summer afternoon, he sat beside me on the bed and asked casually,

”How is Josh?”

Josh was my on and off boyfriend and with my picture on every newspaper in the country, he’d suddenly developed cold feet.

”I don’t know, he is the least of my problems now,” I mumbled.

”Why did you say that,”

”I am queer Albert,’ I said hotly and I know by now my face was turning red, ”I can’t seem to mingle with people my age,” and I kept quiet staring at the window, ”I wish I had died.”

Albert laughed pulling me close to him and sniffing my hair, ”I knew you can’t die little sis, when dad called me and told me what happened…”

”Dad called you?” I asked incredulously, searching his face for any hidden clues, ”I thought no one had your number.”

He swallowed hard looking at the ceiling and I know he was trying to lie.

”Don’t lie to me,” I said quietly.

”I am not going to,” he replied limply, standing up from my bed and moving towards the window, his back stiffened and I have the feeling he was trying to control himself. He parted the curtains, peered outside and when he turned to look at me, he had tears in his eyes.

”I had to go to Germany, there are so many secrets you need to know Mina and when I found out about where we came from, I couldn’t stay in this house any longer.”

”What secrets Albert?” I asked with apprehension, the hair at the back of my head stood on end, my brother was looking at me strangely and I noticed he was perspiring heavily, his was also breathing funny.

I grabbed my bed sheet with brutal force as the memory of that fateful day assaulted my senses. Albert’s eyes were changing to a strange colour and he wasn’t speaking, the silence was killing me slowly.

He walked towards me, his eyes never leaving my face and I couldn’t look away , the glow wasn’t so scary. I stood up from my bed and moved towards him.

”What secret Albert,” I whispered again, ”tell me the secrets of this house!”

Suddenly as it had begun, the light in his eyes fizzled out, he was no longer looking at me, his attention was on the doorway and I turned to look.

Dad was standing there with an inscrutable expression on his face.

”We are going on a trip.” and he was gone.

Albert was about to follow him and I held him by the elbow,

”What is going on?”

”With time you’ll understand.”

”What if there is no time,” I searched his face for clues but I got nothing. He seemed to consider what I said and closed his eyes.

”Mina, you are the riddle behind everything, only you can handle this.”

By now I was almost going crazy, the more questions I asked, the deeper my pain increased. I am just nineteen years old, yet I feel the weight of a hundred year old woman on my shoulders.

What if everything about me had been a lie, who am I?

Albert pulled me close in a tight embrace and said quietly, I could feel the pain in his voice,

”Nobody can succeed without you, you are time, you are indestructible, just have that at the back of your mind.”

Time, that word again, what has it got to do with me?

”Mina,” dad called me from the hallway,

”Yes dad,” and I went to meet him.

”We have to go now,” he said urgently.

”I have not packed anything and where are we going?”

”You ask too many questions Mina,” I noticed the irritation creeping in on his voice, ”if we don’t move those men would be back and we can’t let that happen can we?”

”I am not moving an inch until you tell you what is really going on.” I said firmly and that got to him. He knew once I pouted my mouth, I won’t bulge until I get what I want.

I heard the sound of helicopter and it really hit me hard, we are fleeing, my dad was almost begging and I could sense the urgency in him.  I decided to give him benefit of the doubt.

”But dad, promise to tell me everything.”

And a smile crossed his face, ”do I have a choice?”

I followed him down the stairs and into the kitchen, Albert was already waiting for us, he was holding the door which led to the garden. When I saw the helicopter’s blade, I was scared, I had never been on one before. We quickly climbed in and the helicopter was up in the air. We were flying away when I heard a mighty explosion.

It was our house, and I watched with a sinking feeling at the pit of my stomach as it went up in flames, another explosion ripped through the building and our neighbours’ house was also engulfed in the inferno. I glanced in Albert’s direction but he looked away. My dad was sitting beside the pilot, he didn’t even bother  looking in my direction. I stared down at the bright dot  which used to be our house and my heart filled with sorrow.

All my childhood memories has gone up in flame and we are now on the run, from what? No one was willing to tell me, not even my family but I am a survivor, I would find out everything, whether in this life or the next.

Definitely in this life, I decided grimly.

NP : This ‘TIME’ piece is quiet a long one because this would be the last post until the book is published. Thanks for reading the story folks!

Who You Chose To Be…

English: In January 2009, President of the Uni...

English: In January 2009, President of the United States of America, George W. Bush invited then President-Elect Barack Obama and former Presidents George H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton, and Jimmy Carter for a Meeting and Lunch at The White House. Photo taken in the Oval Office at The White House. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Life is about choices, right now in some states, Americans are already voting for their next President, the man who would lead them for the next four years. If Obama did not seek for a re-election, someone else in his party would be standing in his place right now!

But he chose to do it again. Obama could have been selling drugs but he chose to go to school, study hard and make something of his life. Romney ( I don’t really know much about him) chose to get rich and he did.

Where am I going with this you may ask? It’s simple, you can choose to ruin your life or choose to forget about the mistakes of your past, your failures, your bitterness, hurts and forge ahead to break down new barriers.

Like yesterday, I chose not to write a single word of my novel, and today I am itching to start, I can even write more than five thousand words, it’s all about choices.

You can choose to be poor by not going to work or by drinking yourself  into a stupor every night, psychiatrists call that addiction right? But I call it bad choices!

And you can choose to sit tight and write a 50,000,00 word novel this month of fiction fever (NaNoWrimo) and win a publishing contract. Or maybe, self publish it and make no sales or… a lot of sales.

Life is about choices and I hope to God, we’ll make the right one today!

A Word War?

English: Monument of Henryk Sienkiewicz, Polis...

English: Monument of Henryk Sienkiewicz, Polish Nobel Prize-winning novelist and journalist, Okrzeja, Lublin Voivodeship, Poland. Village seen on the left side is Wola Okrzejska — writer’s place of birth. Polski: Pomnik Henryka Sienkiewicza na szczycie kopca jego imienia w Okrzei. Po lewej stronie widoczna jest rodzinna wieś pisarza — Wola Okrzejska. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have declared a war of words on the State of Noveliar (that is a new word I just coined right now!) I am going into battle from the first of November. The melee actually began last week when an email was sent to me about the National Novel Writing Month, (NaNoWrimo)

I decided to join and write a fifty thousand word novel in November even though my hand is full with projects. It’s strange but I find out I write more when I am under duress or let me rephrase… When I’ve set a deadline or a target for a particular project, it doesn’t have to be about writing alone.

Because I am currently reviewing a novel, and I have a lot of writing projects slated for the end of November, I wondered if I have bitten more than I could chew? After thinking for a couple of minutes, I looked at myself in the mirror and said out loud,

”Seyi, (I love talking some sense to myself sometimes, it does keep me sane ) who on earth are you kidding? Can you actually pull this off?”

After some deliberation with my muse (inner self) I decided to proceed with the challenge of Kill A Word Month! (my own interpretation of the literary month) I am sure I can nail it!

I don’t know if any other human being is like me but I would really love to find out because I seem to enjoy working under tight deadlines, and I also set too high a standard sometimes. All the same, I am in this for the long haul and I am going to enjoy myself thoroughly.

I have got three strategy which I believe if properly applied, I should be able to pull this off brilliantly, and here it goes;

* Tell everyone who cares to listen that I am writing a 50,000,00 word novel in November (so they can wish me well and won’t be mad when I don’t their pick calls)

* Talk less on the phone.

* Plan every infinitesimal details of my life starting from November 1st so there won’t be any distractions.

(I would still be blogging by the way, it’s like my way of life!)

If anyone has other ideas do drop a line but I am really, really excited!

Squally Sandy

East Didsbury

East Didsbury (Photo credit: paulhome)

It’s all over the news, a mammoth storm ( tagged Hurricane Sandy, what a horrible name!) of great proportion is to hit the East coast of America affecting more than 50 million people spanned over eight states which has now declared a state of emergency.

My heart goes out to everyone in the line of this brutish, atrocious monster. Nature is arrogant, stiff-necked, downright selfish. Nature can take your house and you dare not talk! What courtroom would you take this gargantuan monster to? Nature cannot be tamed, it cannot be held to account. How would you approach it? Can you scold nature, can you tell it to shut its horrible howling face and tell it to get lost?

It will come back with a vengeance to haunt you! It will slap your face and you dare not retaliate? How can you? When you’ve got sand in your face and gravel in your mouth! When your fancy stiletto shoes gave you no refuge.

But I want to drag nature to court!! Now who is with me?

(I think every where is kind of silent)

I asked James Bond (Daniel Craig) and he took to his heels, even his fancy, custom-made cars were no match for nature. I knocked on the door of Barack Obama but he told me he was preparing for his election, but he promised to protect the American people, ( now I believed him, no fancy speech can halt Sandy’s fury) I drove to Romney’s house but his stern face aides won’t let me in except am a devout Mormon or his die-hard supporter, but I am neither. But I screamed my voice hoarse that nature is on the loose and we have to contain it. The door was slammed on my flushed face… Can you imagine my disgust at been shunned for trying to bring nature to justice?

Now after exhausting all my options, I sank to my knees, surely God would intervene and avert a major catastrophe.

Can you guys at least pray with me?

 

 

Nominated For The Liebster Award!

I have been nominated for the Liebster Award!! I was nominated by JackieP of  Change

Piers Morgan Tonight

Piers Morgan Tonight (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

For Better Me. What an honour!

 Thanks Jackie for the nomination, it’s awesome and I have still got a big grin on my face as I am writing this but you may be wondering;

What Is A Liebster Award?

According to ThoughtProvoking Moments and I am going to quote her word for word, she says,

”The Liebster Blog Award is given to up and coming bloggers with less than 200 followers, and nominated by fellow bloggers. Liebster is a German word meaning sweetest, kindest, nicest, dearest, beloved, lovely, kind, pleasant, valued, cute, endearing and welcome.”

What a cute way to describe me, I am chuffed! So there you have it, I was nominated by Jackie and I would in turn nominate other eleven bloggers.

You see, I’ve got a big fat imagination and I could just envision been with Jackie on ”Piers Morgan Tonight” He is a British journalist who took over from Larry King’s show, you know, Larry is quite a legend.

Well as I was saying, based on this assumption that I am on air with Jackie of course, on Piers Morgan’s show. Piers is just listening, chipping in every now and then, and yes, Jackie is dressed to kill, I won’t describe her cos she’s simply gorgeous, and right now I will be answering the eleven questions.

This are Jackie’s questions;

  1. What got you into blogging?

That’s a straight forward question, as a writer, I probe my brain by blogging and I also want to rub minds with other writers, poets, great people who blogged everyday. It’s very exhilarating for me.

2. What have you learned about yourself through your blog?

I have learnt that I could juggle five things at once and still get an incredible result. I’ve met great people online, and my imagination is at the peak, and it’s all thanks to my blogging.

3. When you aren’t blogging what do you do?

I am a freelance journalist, working for a London-based magazine, ‘Black Heritage Today,’ and when I am not on field trips, I am glued to my computer in the office, typing furiously. I am currently editing three novels at once and I am also a reviewer for Bookpleasures.com (I am not been paid by the way, just loved reading novels) And I am a mom of three boisterous and active kids, that’s like a twenty-four hour shift job! Never ending but I love it.

4. If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go?

Norway, I had wanted to go this year but obviously it’s October now and the kids are in school, So next year, it’ straight to Norway.

5. What’s your greatest vice?

None that I can think of, honestly! ‘Jackie why are you looking at me like that!’ (Piers is smiling everyone!)

6. Who is/was your greatest influence in your life?

My mother, she is strong, hardworking and very determined. She is also a great woman of faith, the word ‘impossible’ is not in her dictionary, I love her to bits.

7. Who is your favorite author?

I have a lot of them but I’ll pick John Grisham, I love all his novels especially, ‘The Firm’ His books are so real, it’s as if you’re in the story.

8. What music do you prefer to listen to?

I love gospel and cool smooth jazz. Music is powerful, I love all kinds, sometimes I go  country as long as it’s a great tune with inspiring words, I’ll go for it.

9. If you could, who would you like to have cook for you?

My husband! Yes, he is a very good cook but it’s been a while since he’d cooked last!

10. Imagine that you could meet anyone living or dead, who would it be and what would you say?

My best friend while I was in college, she died suddenly. I would ask her why she didn’t fight to stay alive! I missed her…

11. Are you happy?

Absolutely!

There it is, and we were honourably ushered out of CNN studio by studio hands, that’s what they’re called isn’t it? Anyway, Jackie and I had a great time.

Now I am honoured to nominate the following bloggers for the prestigious Liebster Award

http://wendy@escapeintofiction.wordpress.com

  •  WaytoKabul

http://waytokabul.wordpress.com

  • Talking Of Faith

http://talkingoffaith.wordpress.com

  • thebettermanproject

http://thebettermanproject.wordpress.com

And this are my questions, the same as JackieP by the way! Because I thought her questions are quite cool!!

  1. What got you into blogging?
  2. What have you learned about yourself through your blog?
  3. When you aren’t blogging what do you do?
  4.  If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go?
  5.  What’s your greatest vice?
  6. Who is/was your greatest influence in your life?
  7. Who is your favourite author?
  8. What music do you prefer to listen to?
  9. If you could, who would you like to have cook for you?
  10. Imagine that you could meet anyone living or dead, who would it be and what would you say?

That’s it folks, and thank you again JackieP for the honours and good luck to all you glorious nominees!

Circle Of Life

Talkin' About Life and Death

Talkin’ About Life and Death (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A very good friend of mine lost her younger brother yesterday to the cold hands of death at the age of 35, which brought the poignant topic of death shrilly to my subconscious mind this evening.

Yes, we don’t like talking about IT but it’s all around us. I mean, we are born, we grow old with all our aspirations and we wither and die. Simple as!

But there is a catch. Death is not an end in itself, it’s a beginning, I believe firmly in life after death because I am a Christian but what about people who don’t? What is their hope?

My motto in life is ‘live life to the full and spread the love, don’t pile up hatred, you’ll be the one to stink and believe in yourself. Once there’s a will, there will be a WAY!’

My mind is still reeling from the news and my heart bleeds for my friend but the die is cast and the deed is done. The grim ripper’s done his worst, he can’t do more than that!

Borrowing the words of Mofasa in Lion King, ‘It’s just the circle of life’

Adieu Ambrose!

This was truly inspiring and beautiful, please enjoy!

ioanna angelidaki's avatarlife portOfolio

I am having one (or more) of those days where 
my middle finger is the answer to everything.

1

Lately i ‘ve been coming across all sorts of lists, to-do and how-to posts.  Today i think i got at the end of my tether.

I found this:

Please tell me, IS IT ME, or needing to consult a list in order to be creative is just too much??? No.22 even says “Don’t force it” !!!!

1

Then i came across a blog post “S.M.A.R.T. Goals; Organizing your goals (1, 5, and 10 year)”. (I am not posting the link because it is a sponsored post. Plus it pissed me of. Google it if you like). Repeating, 1-ONE, 5-FIVE, 10-TEN year goal organization. Quoting “Maintain a strong habit of running your life like a business”. Wow, that’s great! This way we can replace the “bite the dust” phrase with the “went bankrupt”

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What in heaven’s name is this? I think it’s symbolic though. I could just liken it to us, you, me, people every where. When we don’t forgive, that ‘s the kind of baggage we would be carrying around! What a heavy load!

rasb2's avatarrasb2

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I love ginger root, I have read so many wonderful things about it and it’s healing properties. This post is so informative and awesome that I just had to reblog it. Ha ha ha! It’s also brilliant! Brilliant!!

oneanna65's avatarcancer killing recipe

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