Growing…

Winter Trees at Sunset

 

To live is to grow, when we stop growing, we stop living.

Some one once asked what inspires me to write, and I told this amiable fellow, ‘life inspires me to write and when I write, I grow, I keep learning everyday!’

Life is full of mysteries and wonder, that is why writers would always have inspirations to write. I read everyday and I write everyday! Our lives would be mundane if it’s static. When asked as an old man why he still practiced six to eight hours a day, one of the world’s best violinists replied, ‘Because I think I’m getting better!’ And I think that’s the attitude we need to cultivate, the desire to be the best in whatever we do.

When I read some of my earlier works, I laugh, because I saw through my mistakes, and I quickly improve on it. I am not the same writer I was yesterday, because today, I learnt how to write better. Life is progressive, death is static. If we don’t want to learn, what the hell are we living for then?

Growing takes time… we spend our whole life growing.

When Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was an old man, an admirer asked him how he was able to write so beautifully. Pointing to a nearby apple tree, he replied, ‘that tree is very old, but I never saw prettier blossoms. The tree grows a very little new wood every year, and out of that new wood those blossoms come. So I try to grow a little each year.’

What a decent man! I want to be more like Longfellow, grow like a tree, throughout my lifetime.

I hope you’re enjoying your weekend, and as we head into a new week, I hope you will have the courage and patience to learn new things, to grow like an oak and impact your world!

If any of you, my friends, recently bought one of my books, do leave a review at Amazon, or if you haven’t, do support a writer who loves the written word and click on my sidebar. ‘Tales Of Five Lies’ is less is than a dollar or a pound, ‘The Feet Of Darkness,’ is also available worldwide, online and in bookshops… My upcoming supernatural thriller, ‘Cydonia Rise of the fallen,’ will be released before Christmas. 

It’s a pleasure being your friend and I value every one of you dearly. Enjoy the rest of your weekend and have a beautiful week!

Much love, always!

🙂

 

Stranded At Santum Close (4)

jtkunley

(Photo credit: jtkunley)

The man fell down with a  heavy swoop, hitting the ground like a bomb, his eyes turned red and Linda screamed, staring at her assailant in shock.

*****************************

A day after Linda’s disappearance, Gordon was desperate to find answers and he decided to check his wife’s things. He rummaged through the contents of the drawers in their room as sweat poured from his agitated body in torrents. He threw his wife’s clothes on the floor, looking around with a deranged glint in his eyes and swore softly under his breath. His gaze swept the room clean and he shook his head in despair, he was sure he had checked everywhere.

Eliza appeared at the doorway with arms akimbo and his demeanour spelt trouble but Gordon was not in the mood for his arguments.

‘Dad, what do you think you’re doing?’

Gordon sighed in defeat and answered, ‘I am looking for clues son, anything that could show me what to do!’ Eliza considered that, came inside the room, then sat down on the bed.

‘I found mom’s diary on the table when she left for work yesterday, she must have forgotten it, you might find some answers there.’ ‘Eliza said quietly, his eyes sad. Gordon took the blue diary from him and held it to his heart.

‘Thanks son, I’ll see if I can find anything in it.’

Eliza nodded and left the room and the next thing Gordon heard was a deafening sound as gunshots erupted outside his bedroom, he heard stomping footsteps and his heart broke into a million fragments.  Disregarding his own safety, Gordon bolted out of the room after his son, but it was too late. Eliza was lying on the corridor with blood pouring out of his chest wound.

‘No!!!’ Gordon yelled and held his son close to his chest, weeping uncontrollably. He gently laid him back, ran into his room, yanked open the door of his walk in wardrobe, picked up one of his semi automatic rifles, and strode out of his room, darting downstairs but there was no one around. Minutes later, sounds of siren tore down his street and Gordon finally realized, that  his life was rapidly going downhill.

Three police officers alighted from their cars, their gloomy eyes suggested they hated the sight of the grief ridden man whose house had become accursed.

************

I appreciate everyone who has followed this story thus far, the culminating part would be posted next week. Do continue to enjoy the rest of your week!

Much love, always. 🙂

Stranded At Santum Close (2)

Statue of Archangel Michael by August Vogel ab...

 Hamburg, Germany

The lone figure toddled along the street; the warm night air was like poison to his troubled soul. He dragged his left leg along and grunted with each painful step. His hunched shoulders were home to a coat, which hung on his gaunt frame like shredded shrouds. His small, beady eyes were still sharp and bright. He moved slowly but surely towards St Michael’s Church. When he neared the church, he glanced wearily at the bronze figure of Archangel Michael, which stood at the portal of the church conquering the devil but the image merely intensified his uneasiness.

He stiffened at the horrible thought that crossed his mind, ‘is any of the Leonhards still alive? If so, my soul be damned.’ At the ripe old age of 81, Bernstein Joel Bonnke believed his bones would not rest in his grave until he has seen an end to the last descendant of the cancer of Germany. His shaky head glared at the picture in his right hand, it was the picture of a beautiful dark-haired woman,  her features were lovely, but as far as he was concerned, she carried in her genes, an evil so potent, it must not be allowed to sprout. Bernstein gritted his teeth in quiet anticipation, if things worked according to plan, then his meeting at Santum Close would be successful.

 

*****************

Gordon’s car glided smoothly into the driveway, he killed the engine and opened the door of his Aston Martin. He closed it loudly for emphasis and muttered under his breath,

‘I’m still angry!’

He strode towards the door and stopped short, a creepy feeling slowly made its way down his spine. A worried frown crossed his taut face. He couldn’t place it but suddenly, he wanted to hold Linda in his arms, his earlier anger evaporated instantly.

He opened the front door and met a full house.

His mother and sons sat with glum faces while three police officers stood sentry close to the kitchen, whispering to themselves. Gordon’s heart sank; he knew something bad must have happened to Linda.

‘Hey mom,’ he croaked out, there was a stubborn lump on his throat.

His mother, Bertie stood up. She was a plain Jane, round, matronly but with the sweetest smile ever. She sauntered to where her son stood sheepishly, looking like a cat caught stealing a neighbour’s milk and held him close.

‘Linda didn’t make it to the office.’ Bertie whispered sadly, her eyes brimming with tears.

Gordon moved away from his mother’s embrace and faced his sons, they didn’t utter a word, but their accusing eyes spoke volume.

The police officers approached cautiously, their faces, deadpan and serious.

Eliza stood up and went to his room; Gordon stared at his retreating back and knew he has lost his son. He watched the police officers as they approached him and the knot in his stomach tightened as they inched closer.

They told him the news he had dreaded since stepping into the house.

 

***********************************

One thing I’ve realised about relationships is this, we tend to jump to conclusions quickly. Suspicion and mistrust kills love faster than unfaithfulness and you know what I’m going to say next – Live well and love well.

The next part of this story would be next Wednesday, I appreciate your comments! 🙂

I write like Jeffrey Archer, I don’t plan my stories, I just write as the pen leads! I love you guys, and do enjoy the rest of this great week.

NP: There’s one thing though – I’m having problems commenting on all the blogs I visited yesterday, it’s like been banned from speaking to your friends! 😦  I do hope WordPress would fix this!!

Much love, always!

🙂

 

 

Stranded At Santum Close

shutterstock_117651661

Linda moved away from husband, tears in her eyes. She hated his anger and bickering, it was like a stab wound to her delicate heart.

‘Answer me!’ Gordon screamed spurning her around, she slipped and landed on the floor, grimacing in pain. But Gordon was past caring, he bent over her, his dark hair dishevelled. His six-foot frame shaking with uncontrollable rage. There was a deranged glint in his eyes.

‘Who the hell is big Joe? I sure don’t know him among your cousins,’ he snarled and raised his massive hands as if to strike her, she averted his gaze and hid her face under the crop of her arms. Gordon continued his tirade of abuse nonetheless,

‘You have his number on your phone, you have him on LinkedIn, Facebook and Twitter and yet, I don’t know him, answer me!’

Then he bent down and carried her effortlessly from the marble floor of their five bedroom end of terrace property and threw her on the bed. She heard footsteps coming up the stairs and knew their sons must have heard the noise.

‘Keep your voice down,’ she begged but he continued, ignoring her pleading.

‘You are now a celebrity eh? Having men eat from your palms but listen to me and listen good,’ he narrowed his eyes to drive his points home, ‘you ARE still my wife, and must tell me everything!’

And with that, he stomped out of the room, almost colliding with Eliza, their eldest son. She heard him taking the car keys from the fire-place, moments later, the sound of raving engines soon became a distant echo.

Eliza lingered at the doorway, his face puffed up from sleep. He stared at his mom and the sadness in his eyes wrenched her heart out. Without a single word, he closed the door and walked away.

Linda decided not to cry, her tears would achieve nothing, the only thing that could ease her pain was work. She leapt up from the bed and went straight to the bathroom. As she scrubbed her body, she wondered why Gordon, her husband did not trust her anymore.

They’ve been married for twenty-five years, they met at college and have been together ever since. Linda’s faithfulness to her husband and kids has never been in doubt, until now. Gordon was the only one who doubted her – all her friends and extended family knew she would lick the ground he walked on and she knew he loved her too, but why the sudden mistrust and jealousy?

Linda shook her head in confusion and finished bathing. She left the bathroom and sauntered to the room. Within minutes, she finished dressing and was ready to go. She lingered briefly at the full length mirror in the bedroom. She was forty-five years old but looked thirty. Her luscious dark hair flowed easily to her back, her full painted lips parted in an empty smile and her eyes looked sad.

Linda was aware of her extraordinary beauty but it didn’t get to her. Her well proportioned body seemed to have fared well regardless of the four children which came out of her.

She rubbed her slim manicured hands on her face and sighed.

‘I love you Gordon.’ she said aloud but her feeling of sadness persisted.

She left the room and saw Eliza and his brothers outside the door.

‘Mom, dad is getting worse,’ Eliza said in a matter of fact tone, he looked worried.

‘It’s just a phase,’ Linda replied in an unconvincing tone, ‘it would pass.’

She hugged her sons and slowly made her way down the stairs.

‘What about the family picnic? Today is bank holiday mom, I don’t want you to go to work.’ said Luke, her last son.

‘I have to,’ she said, ruffling his blonde hair, his pale skin grew paler at her touch.  When she got to the living room, she took the second car keys but on second thoughts, left it on the centre table.

‘I won’t be long, just a few files to work on and I’ll be home in time for lunch.’

Eliza nodded absent-mindedly.

Unbeknown to him, that would be the last time he would set his eyes on his mother.

****************************

I’ve not written short stories in a while, I wrote this weeks ago and just stumbled on it while I was musing about some real life events. Through out this month, I’ll write this story, it’s loosely based around true events that I’d seen happened to some very close friends. But I’m going to fabricate some facts as well. I’ll post this story once a week and when it’s done, provided I get great response from you my friends, I’ll think of what to do with it.

The next instalment would be Wednesday, but I’ll still be posting ‘breaking news’ (life experiences) as they come.

A word of advise, live well – there are no perfect relationships but you can be the best, wherever you find yourself!

Have a wonderful week!

Much love, always.

🙂

”I Am Here…”

English: A Syrian soldier aims an AK-47 assaul...

English: A Syrian soldier aims an AK-47 assault rifle from his position in a foxhole during a firepower demonstration, part of Operation Desert Shield. The soldier is wearing a Soviet-made Model ShMS nuclear-biological-chemical warfare masks. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Hamza ran blindly through the haze and dust, the only thought on his mind was the safety of his daughter. He had given up hope of ever finding his wife again but little Shafilea cannot save herself. He stopped briefly, turned, and saw the tank inching closer, the sound emanating from the massive weapon of destruction was akin to Leviathan, the indestructible beast of the sea.

Then there was a cry, he was now faced with a choice to either go back and face possible death or escape with his life. He chose his daughter. He went through the cloud of dust as cacophony of gunfire erupted from every side. Rebels and government forces were battling it out on the street of Aleppo and he was caught in the middle.

Aleppo was now like a  game of chess played by an obstinate ruler determined to crush every fledgling hope left for his people. He had vowed to trample on his own people like dust.

”Papa!” the voice of his three-year old daughter rang out shrilly from the rubble of their former home.

Hamza ran towards the sound and every step he took was a gamble, bullets whistled past his head but he kept on. Shortly before he got to her, there was a massive explosion which threw him about ten feet away. He landed with a hollow thud to the harsh ground soaked with blood of the innocent. Immediately, he stood up to his feet, his only mission, if it would be his last was to save his daughter.

Hamza’s face was blackened with blood and dust, his left eye was partially blind, but he trudged on. Miraculously, the sound of war ceased, he was blissfully unaware of it all. He had been shell-shocked by the sound of the blast and could not have heard a pin dropped.

He got to his house and with his bare hands, began to dig; tears rolled down his one good eye. One rebel saw it all and dropped his AK 47 assault rifle and joined him in the digging. Government soldiers’ also spotted the bold man whose only mission in life at that point was the safety of his beloved daughter and they stopped shooting as every pair of eyes focused on Hamza

”I am here,” he kept saying repeatedly, until they finally pulled his daughter out.

”Papa,” Shafilea rushed towards the badly wounded one-eyed man covered in blood and wept on his shoulder…

 

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Russia is the only country openly supporting the Syrian government while innocent people die daily. This short story is a tip of the iceberg, however,  I just want to force hope out of a  very disturbing situation. I’m writing this in the relative safety of my London home but I know several others are not so fortunate…

Thanks for reading my post.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Listener’s Dilemma.

 

George Popa!

( Photo credit: George Popa)

”I stayed true to my first love,” Hannah’s soft voice droned on and I was held spellbound by the simple life she’d lived. A life of dedication in the face of outright betrayal.

”I fell in love the first time I saw Michael,” and her face soften at the memory with traces of a smile lurking at the corner of her mouth, ”my dad worked for the KGB then, he’s now retired, he was  absolutely furious when he knew I was dating ”an alien.”

My eyebrows shot up at the ‘alien bit’ and she laughed when she saw the expression on my face.

”A nonRussian is an alien to my dad,” she explained and continued, ”when it was obvious our relationship would face outright persecutions, we fled Russian and came to London, got married and life was good. It was rosy for the first five years and then the late nights began, I tried to question his erratic behaviors but the back of his hands was my reply.

I was on the edge of my seat and Hannah’s voice was becoming strained but I said nothing still, just listened.

”The trips to Ghana was a surprise at first, and then when it continued I became worried. Money was not our problem, I would have lived in Ghana if he wanted me to but he said no. Ten years later, still no kids and we were still married. You can imagine my frustration and failure that I couldn’t give my husband what he wanted. I left everything for him, my family, my friends… everything!

There was silence, it was as if she was reliving the horror of it all. I said nothing still.

”One of his friends came to our house one summer evening, as usual, he’d travelled, and he told me Michael was celebrating his tenth year wedding anniversary, he brought the family pictures as proof and my world fell flat. Michael had five children for his other wife, he’d built his family a beautiful house in Accra! When he came back, he had the gut to call me a barren woman.”

”Where is he now?” I finally found my voice.

”He’s gone to the office and you know what?”

”What?”

”I’m pregnant, at long last… and the beatings has stopped.”

”Have you forgiven him?”

”No, but I still love him which was why I wondered at the true meaning of love. I can’t leave him…I’m forty-five years old and I’m pregnant with my first child.”

”What about his other family? That’s bigamy! Are you okay with that too?”

”We don’t discuss it.”

”Do you think about it?”

She nodded and that was it, we heard the sound of a car pulling up at the drive way, that was my cue. I stood up and Hannah gave me a bear hug then asked, ”If you were in my shoes, what would you have done?”

I couldn’t answer her question. I left her house dumbfounded and sad at the same time, no wonder the poor woman thought love was non-existent!

**********

 

That was the concluding part of ‘The Listeners,’ I hope you like it!

Thanks for reading my post, love always:)

The Listeners…

Hannah

Hannah (Photo credit: Steve Wyper)

”Love has been misused several times, it’s kind of meaningless.” Hannah said, a wistful look in her blue eyes, she looked so sad and I wanted to hug her. But I know there are times you just listen and not say a word. Just been there was all Hannah needed at that time and I listened with rapt attention.

My heart broke into a million fragments by her tale, I felt the alien feeling of fear gripped my soul, how could she have kept quiet for so long, how did she manage to keep her sanity?

”I love him,” she was saying and a lump rose up in my throat, I wanted to cry and then like a rainbow on a grey sky she dropped the bombshell!

Who is Hannah? What is her story? Why does she hate the word love?

Stay tuned dear friends, I’ll be back… or better still, can anyone tell me the story of Hannah? Can you dig deep and find the right words?

I’ll be waiting dear friends!

Much love, always:)

The Journey

                                                Island. Guenter Kirchweger

(Photo credit: Guenter Kirchweger)

Roberto Cavalli’s eyes tried to adjust to the darkness, but it was difficult, the only sound which seemed to permeate the atmosphere was the clanging on the rail tracks. He tried to move his arms but it was as hopeless as trying to lift a mountain so he just gave up.

Soon, he heard a cough and tried to turn his head but a chuckle escaped him instead though it sounded like a plea for help. ”Why don’t you sleep Roberto, forget Isabella and the kids, God would take care of them,” a voice whispered shrilly in his head but he ignored it, there was no reason he’d give in to that tormenting spirit which made him jump in the first place.

”But, how I’m going to get out of here?” He asked out loud and was not expecting an answer, and then there was that cough again. What’s more, it was getting louder, so was the noise of the train, but he couldn’t move as a blinding light beamed on him.

Now, Roberto was sure he was no longer alone, the grating annoying sound on the gravel was unnerving. And ever so slowly, the head of a shrivelled old man appeared, his green eyes reminded Roberto of the eyes of his newborn son, Argento. The man peered down at him and cackled, his green eyes seemed to dance with delight.

”I don’t know how many people I’ll meet on the journey of my life, but I’m sure as hell proud to have known you! And you’re lucky I’m by your side today.”

”Who are you?” Roberto asked and winced in pain.

”I am Second Chance, SC for short, you lost your job and your house was repossessed, so you thought you’d end it all by jumping in front of a fast-moving train.”

Roberto watched through the corner of his eyes at another approaching train which was inching closer at each passing second.

”I did no such thing! I lost my footing!”

”Oh yes you did jump, you thought you’ve lost everything, yet you had everything.”

”Can you get me out of here?” Roberto asked, suddenly overcome with guilt, he didn’t want to die anymore.

”Yes, you only need to ask.” The old man said kindly.

”Please, help me!” Roberto begged, ”I’m in so much pain, don’t know how I could still speak.”

”I thought you’d never ask.”

And the man touched him and Roberto found himself back on the platform. He looked round wildly and saw a limping old man walking away, he wanted to run after him but changed his mind.

”You’re sure one lucky dude,” said the guy standing beside him before stepping into the district line train. Roberto stood rooted to the spot, what just happened to him?

**********

Life could be incredibly hard sometimes but losing hope and ending it all is not supposed to be an option. Thanks for reading my post!

Falling Stars And The Year Of Dreams…

Tough

(Photo credit: Woq)

The shadows inched closer and I watched the wind walking with the legs of a deer.

What kind of hope lie in wait for the coming year?

I have no idea, said the old man, new year

are best for great ideas.

 Tears of the rainbow has nothing to do with the wishes of an orphan.

I lost a dear friend old man, I said, walking beside the sea of dreams

We all lose people at one time or the other, said the old man

The most important thing is not to lose yourself.

The year has been okay, I mused, wrapping my robes tighter

 Others don’t have it so good.

People have died, dreams extinguished!

Then do something about it, he said and left me

I watched him go and I saw falling stars hitting my little

house beside the lake.

Strange, I sighed

Life is strange indeed, said the wind, dancing with the lake.

I saw the falling stars by my window

I tried to stop them but I couldn’t

How can I help?

Dear friends, it’s been a great year, some dreams go unfulfilled, others need more work but one thing I realise is, it’s never too late. New Years are for fresh ideas, hold your loved ones tighter, tighten up your belt and fill your mind with positive thoughts. Work hard and you’ll see great results. Things don’t always go the way we want sometimes, but that is why the sun ALWAYS rise again.

Don’t give up on yourself!

Happy New Year (in advance) great friends and I love you all!!!

Tales Of Five Lies And Stepping Into Greatness!

 Tales Of Five Lies

I want to give you my readers, few nuggets to chew on my book, aptly titled, ”Tales Of Five Lies.” And for the record, nobody can predict the end of the world, so why not enjoy yourselves, tuck into your turkey and march into your glorious future!

Excerpts;

It was a dark and lonely place. Time dragged on excruciatingly slow and I was contemplating going back to my comfortable bed when I saw a man darting behind a tree. All my senses came alive and I watched with apprehension, my hand on the gun my dad gave me before he died. I always take it with me as a safety measure.

I stood still watching every movement the man made, I noticed he glanced round briefly, apparently satisfied he was alone then he whistled. Two men emerged from the shadows dragging a bulging bag between them. My mind went wild with all kinds of theory, what could they be burying at that time of the night and how on earth did my best friend got a whiff of their plans? Something was not right, I could feel it deep within my bones.

They got a secluded spot and began digging…

******Step Into Greatness

Stepping Into Greatness!

That’s it dear friends, hope you’ll put a big smile on my face this Christmas by letting me know what you think of my book, I value your opinions Greatly. 2013 would be a glorious year, just step into your greatness because if you believe it, you would certainly have it! Happy holidays and a Merry christmas! Remember, Life Is What You Make Of It

Merry Xmas Everyone!