Welcome dear Sixers and friends to another Six Sentence Sunday as we await Hurricane Sandy here on the East Coast. Stores are out of water,batteries,you name it, and we hope for the best. Survive&Thrive is my motto so we move on to Emily, her tragedy and an important component to the story never mentioned before.
excerpt: Emily tells her children about Patrick’s insistence that she take Karate. He had wanted her to be physically capable of protecting herself. It turns out to be an idea that saves her life.
“He was in her home; Oh God, he slid the door wide open, raced to catch up with her, grabbed her around the waist and dragged her back toward the gaping door. And he was powerful, much stronger than she, a tank compared to a tricycle. Now he had her under the arms, pulling her across the threshold out on the patio, as she kicked and screamed.
Close to the water’s edge he let go and stood above her one foot on her chest, roaring like a lion with his prize.
A quick twist of her body, she grabbed his leg and kicked it from under him. He had something else on his mind and so did Emily; an eye for an eye.”
Welcome Sixers and friends to another Six Sentence Sunday and the continuing story of Emily and her sorrow.
Emily cried, waves mingled with tears as she touched Pat’s face everything soaked with salt water and blood and his eyes, his eyes were open. Her face bent close to his she listened for breathing, nothing. She felt his heart, no beating. Cradling him in the shallow waves she rocked back and forth, back and forth.
Sirens broke the silence but Emily didn’t hear them. The ambulance stopped right next to her, flashing red light bathed Emily and Pat in a surreal glow yet she didn’t lift her head; she didn’t move.
Hi Sixers and friends. I value your comments and thanks so much for stopping by. Last week Emily’s husband Patrick promised he’d care for her the rest of his life. He meant well.
High on his perch, the watcher Clifford Lansdale juiced on oxycontin and black coffee, saw the honeymooners on the beach. Obsessed with his Goddess Emily and his plan, he grabbed keys to the restored dune buggy he treasured and headed out for a little ride. Gunning the motor, the buggy sailed over dunes onto the flat hard packed sand. Course set straight ahead for, oh my, if it isn’t his lawyer dear Patrick Corwin jogging alone and where ohwhere is she? Ah yes, far up the beach, the lonely quiet beach with no one around and only the fierce wind making all that racket and just a tap to send him sprawling, one tiny tap. Clifford Lansdale geared up high, pedal to the floor and headed straight for the target.
Hi Sixers and friends. I appreciate your comments as I continue with Starting Over. Emily and Patrick marry. She finds he is a complex troubled man letting his past interfere with their future. In this scene Patrick explains himself.
“I want you to know that I’m through looking in the rear view mirror at my past. You miss what’s right out in front of you, within reach. I’m through beating myself up over well-meant intentions gone wrong. Now I promise you, my precious wife,” Pat stopped walking and faced her, “I’ll love you and take care of you always. You accepted me from the beginning at face value for who I am and who I could become. Thank you, Emily, I’ll never let you down.”
Welcome Sixers and friends to another Six Sentence Sunday. Last week I introduced you to Emily Kendrick, a watcher with binoculars and a runner on the beach. This week we move on. Patrick Corwin, a lawyer, is the runner on the beach. After a few days of running with him, Emily invites Patrick to her swim and tennis club party.
Patrick escorted her outside, kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, “Goodnight, my little sweetheart.” When he breathed against her skin, she felt a tingle she’d missed since her husband died. A glow from the pleasant evening warmed her until she turned into her street and the good mood changed. It was always like that, coming home to an empty dark house. She must remember to leave some lights on. She wondered when grief would stop haunting her the way it showed up unexpected like an uninvited guest.
Welcome to SSS for another Sunday. This week widow Carly Evans, a home maker all her adult life, begins a new career as a journalist with a prominent newspaper in Fairview, Illinois. One afternoon, tired of working in noisy surroundings, she leaves the office.
Before reaching the car, someone barreled into me causing papers to fly from my stuffed briefcase and I landed in a crumpled heap.
“Sorry,” a familiar voice said, “I wasn’t looking and suddenly there you were.”
Muscular arms lifted me and brushed imaginary dirt from my breasts to my behind. Jerry Donato, the young office stud was taking the opportunity to feel me up even through my jacket!
“Jerry keep your hands to yourself and let me remind you this isn’t high school; sexual harassment is a punishable offense.“
I left him standing with his jaw dropped, Neanderthal style.
Welcome back Sixers, friends, and readers Another good day to be alive. I’ll continue with newly widowed Carly Evans as she tries out life single after many years of being double. Not easy in a changed world where the rules of dating are different from what she recalled. After trying a quilting Bee and a bereavement group, Carly goes to Parents Without Partners and meets Bill. A few months of dinners and dancing and Bill invites Carly to meet his sister’s family upstate. She agrees but only if they stay at a hotel and not with the sister.
How sweet, how ecstatic the moment as the jar of creme Bill opened liquefied on my willing center. I squirmed and cried out and couldn’t get enough as Bill caressed the tender folds, the small bud, and dipped inside. I’d love him forever, would kill for him, be a slave, do anything he wanted if he’d keep doing this magical thing and then a pause. “Don’t stop,” crazy me cried, “ don’t ever stop,” and the sound of foil ripping followed by Bill entering the silkiness of me. We rode the crest together as high as the highest surf before breaking on the shore.
The next morning alone in the bathroom, I caught the familiar scent of my beloved departed Bob’s Old Spice.