The Grace of a Nightingale: An Odyssey Of Survival

 

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I had the wonderful privilege of reading an inspiring article on Arrow Gate’s website. The post was about a nonfiction book written by a woman with a big heart. Mary Anne Willow. Her memoir titled, ‘The Grace Of A Nightingale’ would be published soon.

Mary Anne touched on many things, depression, divorce, suicide, hope in the midst of despair and vaginal Mesh, a procedure recently suspended due to the complications many women faced when they had it done. You can’t hide what’s in your heart, and Mary Anne’s got lots to share with the world. Why not click on the link below and read about this? And maybe when the book’s out, you would all read the story of this awesome woman.

I can’t wait to see this memoir in print. It depicted the resilience of the human’s spirit. We need books like this in the world.

That’s all for now friends.

I hope we’ll all enjoy the rest of our weekend.

Much love, always! 🙂

via The Grace of a Nightingale: An Odyssey Of Survival

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Brave Heart

 

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(Photo Credit: Flickr)

”Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” Desmond Tutu

***

John Parker wanted to tell the kind man who’d saved him from death, but the words caught in his throat. He mumbled inaudibly then coughed loudly. He desperately wanted to unburden and bare his soul to Anselm but realised his new friend would probably call him a monster.

Time dragged on, and Parker waited. The silence in the room was as thick as a winter fog. How could he utter such words to a total stranger? How could he tell Anselm that his girlfriend of 12 years had been diced to pieces and kept inside his deep freezer. Why? Anselm may ask. ‘Oh,’ he may simply shrug his skinny shoulders and just give an excuse, maybe, because he caught her cheating and their seven-year old daughter, Amber, wasn’t his after all. How could he tell Anselm that he, Parker, was a psycho, a sociopath, a sadist whose pain went deeper than imagined? How in heaven’s name could he tell his new pal that he’d been in prison; a prison of the mind where walls whispered obscenities and the only respite he got would be to slash himself open. How could he say such words?

‘I don’t think I should be in this room,’ Parker finally said and a sad sigh escaped his trembling lips. ‘I should go now.’

He stood up but Anselm stopped him with a wave of his large hands.

‘Sit down,’ the older man said firmly. Parker obeyed, his eyes staring straight ahead.

‘You’ve done bad things. I see it in your eyes. Even there’s pain in death, killing yourself doesn’t make it all go away. Get yourself treated, ask forgiveness and turn yourself in. There’s still redemption son.’

John Parker stared at Anselm. His English was flawless, he’d dropped the German accent.

‘Who are you?’ Parker asked slowly.

‘I’m your conscience,’ was the apt reply and the room began to spin.

John woke up with a start, his heart beating wildly. He sat up and checked the bedside clock. It was 3 a.m. in the morning. He’d been dreaming, it was a huge relief but the incident in the dream wasn’t far from reality, his eyes sought his wife of 12 years who was sleeping soundly. He’d been hiding the voices in his head well, it was difficult explaining to his GP that he’d been battling severe depression for three years. After the loss of his job and his wife became the breadwinner, he’d slowly sunk deeper into the quagmire of depression.

There’s only one brave thing left to do, he tapped his wife gently on the shoulder, it’s better safe than sorry, he thought.

***

NP: Guys, I’m sorry I couldn’t post this story yesterday, I tried but life just got in the way. I totally had a different plot to this story but then, it occurred to me that men hide their frailty. They go through life as brave hearts, pillars, unmovable and then they crumple! If you’re a man reading this, please, don’t bottle things up if you’re not well. Life is in phases. Talk to your spouse, close friend or even your doctor. Depression affects a lot of people in our society today and some needless deaths could easily have been avoided if things hadn’t gotten out of hand.

The first part of this story is here if you want to catch up: https://seyisandradavid.org/2015/08/11/dreaming-when-awake/

I hope you’ll all have a wonderful weekend!

Much love, always!! 🙂

Dreaming When Awake!

 

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(Photo credit: Flickr)

“All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake up in the day to find it was vanity, but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible.” T.E. Lawrence

***

John Parker threw the cheque into the river Thames, his eyes darting everywhere like a man on opium. He dug his right hand inside the pocket of his chinos trouser and brought out a rumpled paper, he stared at it for what seemed like ages, then tentatively, inched forward, staring down at the dirty muddy water. He held the railings of the Tower bridge and contemplated his actions. Tourists trooped by, some gave him quizzical looks while others swept him away with the views.

He swallowed hard and heaved himself up but strong pairs of hands held him back. John Parker was stunned, he struggled but the hands stayed firm, locked, clasping his shoulders in a bear grip.

‘Let me go!’ Parker screamed like a trapped animal. Quickly, a crowd had gathered. Some lifted their phones to film the unfolding drama while the hands which held Parker spoke rapidly to someone in German, ‘Annette , könnten Sie bitte die Polizei rufen ? Nein, rufen Sie 999 ,’ (Annette, could you please call the police? No, call 999)  Parker realised his plans had gone awry and he hung his head in shame. The strong hands gently led him out of the crowds.

Twenty minutes later, John Parker sat in a hotel with the hands which actually belonged to a huge bear-like fellow with a weather-beaten face, scattered brown hair and very kind eyes.

‘My English no good, but me understand well,’ The man said quietly.

Parker nodded, wiping sweats off his face with the back of his hand.

‘Thanks for saving my life, it was a stupid thing to do,’ John Parker said, trying to avoid the eyes of his rescuer.

‘Okay, okay, my name Anselm.’

‘I’m John Parker.’ They shook hands and Parker began his story…

****

Hello friends,  I hope everyone is okay. I’ve not written short stories on my site for a while, and I thought, why not? So this is a story that’s filled with life’s truths. I would post the penultimate part on Friday. Mull on the quote before the story and please, don’t stop dreaming positively!

Much love, always! 🙂

 

 

 

 

Beauty In The Midst Of Decadence

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(Photo credit: Guga)

 

Angela rushed through the meadows, her brown hair flying in the wind, to a percipient onlooker, she’s the picture of perfection and beauty. I watched her keenly as Jasper pulled me along the rough footpath. The howling wind whipped my cheeks savagely and I glanced up at the gloomy sky. Suddenly, my skin began to crawl and I had one of the most uneasy sensations since I left the house with Jasper. I sensed danger, Jasper whined and began to bark. I looked round widely and spotted the brown-haired girl.

That was all I saw and I sprung to action, I ran as if my life depended on it, luckily, we got there on time. I caught hold of her legs and everything paled into a blur. I was  glad I acted when I did. I saved a girl from killing herself!

* * * * * *

The above story is mere fiction, but beautiful if one way or the other, we could interrupt tragedy and save a dying soul from despair. Angela was just 12 years old, and yet, she wanted to kill herself, why? Because of cyber bullying. We live in such a fast-moving world, it’s scary sometimes. I was a virgin when I entered university and met my husband, but kids of today have had sexual relations as young as 9 years old! Though I believe we can still preserve the beauty and innocence of our children,  we just have to create more time and let them know we care about even the mundane details of their lives. I was a teenager once, so I know the feeling. As a parent, I care about young people and pray that we would do enough to make this world a better place, but I believe it starts from the home front, don’t you think?

Next week, I’ll be promoting some author friends, if anyone is interested in joining in my little adventure please drop a message on my contact page! Have a wonderful weekend everyone!

NP: I have had a very busy but interesting week and must have missed lots of awesome posts! Please bear with me friends, I’ll stop by your blogs as soon as I can!! 😉

Much love, always.

🙂

The Innocent Blood

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Centuries of Lies and Deceit

Centuries of wars and wastage

Centuries of anger and revolt and restlessness

Centuries of pain and discord

Centuries of selfishness and greed

Centuries of me and me and me

Centuries of pride of life and vanity

Centuries of fear and shame

Centuries of death and death and death and death!

This centuries resulted in the innocent blood wasted

Blood of the young, the old and the unborn.

I groaned in disbelief and utter sadness.

When will the son of men stop their charades and live for once!

********

I have vowed not to watch TV again but that’s just impossible. I work a lot on my computer and sometimes I’ll be tired of the writing and editing and would just browse through the internet and still see what I don’t want to see. I wish I have  the supernatural power that can stop all wars and force humans to love each other eternally but it’s a mere dream isn’t it?

Thanks for reading!

Seyi Sandra David.