A Better Life

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A Better Life

A flash of light introduced a thunder clap.

Rising to his feet, he found himself in the janitor’s supply room; two floors above his intended location.

Every second counted. Jack burst out of the closet, dashing into the nearest stairwell. He only had one chance to prevent this horror. If he didn’t stop it now, the moment could never be undone.

Tripping over his feet, he tumbled down the stairs, smacking into the hard concrete wall. Head spinning like a carousel, he wobbled to his feet. Bolts of pain streaked down his leg.

His desperate eyes glanced at the time.

Stumbling away, he ignored the burning currents that tormented him.

Was he too late?

He limped onto the second floor. Seventy feet separated him from his destination.

He didn’t want her to be scarred forever.

Ignoring an out of service sign, Jack hurled himself at the bathroom door.

Clutching a torn white dress in his hand, the janitor stood over nine year old Josephine. Huddled in the corner, she wept.

Before anyone could react, Jack crushed Janitor against the wall and slammed his head against the sink.

Hobbling past the unconscious predator, Jack handed Josephine her clothes. “Did he hurt you?”

She pressed the ripped dress against her quivering body. “No.”

Jack turned away.

“Who are you?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“I remember your face. You caught me last month before I fell down the stairs.”

Jack sighed. Preventing that fall spared Josephine from a wheelchair, leading her down a new life path.

“Are you my guardian angel?”

Guardian angel sounded better than time traveling soul mate. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Depends.”

“After I leave, count to ten before screaming. Tell everyone he slipped and banged his head. Tell them what he wanted to do to you. Can you do that?”

She nodded. “Will I see you again?”

He knew the heartless rules of time travel. Amend the past, you change the future. Rescue the girl, you alter the woman.

“I hope so.” He staggered away. Seconds later, he leaned against the stairwell wall.

How many times will he transform her life? Will each new path lead her back to him? He peeked at a photograph of Josephine on his cell phone. He admired his future bride standing in a white wedding dress. She sat in a wheelchair in the original photo.

Jack knew the dangers of playing with her past. Saving Josephine from tears may destroy their destiny together.

Will she still love him in her reconstructed future?

Only if they were meant to be. If not, he had to be content knowing he gave her a better life.

 

Photo taken from Google Images.

My Name Is Stone

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My Name Is Stone

My name is Stone

It is sad being a cemetery statue

I watch unappreciative people

They come here regretting, weeping, mourning

They come here to say goodbye

They come here to be educated

Death teaches them so much about life

It is once

It is short

It is beautiful

I am not a teacher but

Humans leave here with knowledge

My name is Stone

It is sad being a cemetery statue

Things could be worse

I could have been a gargoyle

 

Image taken from Google Images.

Lonely Author: My First Pedicure

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“You never had a pedicure?” Stunned, my wife and daughter stared at me.

Maybe the Chimp needed to get in touch with his feminine side.

Coming home from my doctor’s appointment, I journeyed into a beauty salon.

To ignore the strange looks from the women I picked up a magazine.  Apparently, Caitlyn Jenner doesn’t feel like a woman anymore.

A tiny Asian woman led me to chair that stood above a tub. Removing my sneakers, socks, and rolling up my jeans, I sank my feet into the warm water.

I could get used to this.

I started clever salon conversation. “Are you excited about the new season of ‘The Voice?’”

The thin woman next to me made awful sounds with her gum as if she learned to chew by watching cattle grazing.

Forget the conversation.

This Chimp knows there’s no greater turn off than a man with crusty nails. So, there wasn’t much for the old lady to do there.

The old lady started rubbing some grating apparatus against my heel. When she moved to the bridge of my foot….

Quickly withdrawing, I yelled, and leapt out of my seat.

The entire salon turned to look at me.

“I’m ticklish.”

Returning my hoof to the old lady, I ignored a room full of shaking heads and rolling eyes.

Biting my lip, she continued on that sweet spot.

At this moment I knew men are the weaker sex; child birth, monthly cramps, pedicures, raising immature husbands.

Women are built to stand excruciating torture.

No wonder why I couldn’t keep a woman. I submitted them to this cruel torture.

Minutes later she massaged my foot with a fragrant cream.  It actually made me a little drowsy.

Two quick taps on my foot.

Some relaxing Oriental massage trick.

Two more taps.

A salon full of women yelled in unison, “She wants the other foot.”

How humiliating.

She painted my toe nails with a clear enamel although a cream colored French manicure may have gone well with my Earth tone eyes.

An hour later, I entered my apartment.

Leaving my shoes and socks on the welcome mat, I stood before my wife and daughter. Then, I truly got in touch with my feminine side.

No one noticed my lovely pedals.

I truly knew how it felt to be a woman; an unappreciated flower.

Alas, getting in touch with my feminine side wasn’t what I thought it would be.

Perhaps, next time I want to get in touch with my feminine side I could get a Brazilian Wax.

I THINK NOT.

 

 

Fragments Of Me

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When we were young our lives consisted of questions.

The questions we needed answered. The hundreds of questions our parents and teachers asked.

But a ten year old was never meant to have all the answers.

My classmates attended the big party. Stupid me promised to dance with every girl. Boys stood on one side, girls on the other.

My friends taunted me. “Go dance.”

With wobbly knees and sweaty forehead, I tried to look cool.

Then I spotted Lisa Big Boobies Barelli. Oh my, she could fill up a B-cup like no other girl in school.

Ever since kindergarten when she first smiled at me, I knew the other girls didn’t compare. Lisa had all her teeth.

From across the room I admired her.

Who cares if she had rounder cheeks than the other girls?

Lisa had something the skinny girls didn’t have.

She had curves.

Deep breath…..I broke the ice approaching the circle of “cool girls” as they giggled like hyenas.

Unable to speak, I did something that became my signature move. Never inviting her to dance, I took Lisa’s hand and led her to the dance floor.

Everyone watched us dance as I impressed her with witty banter.

She said, “Nice party.”

I replied, “Uh-huh.”

“Are you wearing perfume?”

“Yeah.”

Even at that early age I knew women preferred a good smelling man. So, I wore my mother’s Chanel #5.

My friends mocked me for dancing with Lisa. I maneuvered us around so she wouldn’t see their hurtful antics.

The boys never understood. Why dance with other girls if I was already dancing with the prettiest one?

“Andrew, there’s so many beautiful girls here with lovely dresses and their hair in pretty curls. You could’ve danced with any of them.”

Then, Lisa asked the terrifying question.  “Why me?”

I felt the universe collapsing on me. Boys laughed. Girls gave me dirty looks. Now, I had to answer this….

How much pressure could one ten year old take?

Searching for infinite wisdom, I gazed into her big blue eyes and whispered. “Why not?”

The lights dimmed.

A love song came on.

Lisa gave me a bear hug and kissed my cheek.

Thankfully, the darkness cloaked my confusion.

That ten year old boy learned so much that night.

He learned about having the courage to be the first.

He learned to go after the girl he wanted, no matter what anyone else thought.

And dancing cheek to cheek…

He learned some questions are meant to be answered by asking another question.

 

Photo of myself taken by friend of the family.

Changes to Lonely Author

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Lonely Author wants to thank everyone for putting up with his six week Lovefest. Also, sending special thanks to everyone who encouraged me with my Devil Girl Diaries.

During the past six weeks I have posted twice a day six days a week.

A pace that I can’t continue…..

There are characters banging inside my thick Chimp skull wanting to get out. Not to mention the characters of my completed novels and screenplays wanting their stories to be read/viewed.

There is also the issue of helping the butterflies in my life.

My daughter struggling with college as her mother’s health wanes.

My battered lady friends complaining, “I am always too busy.”

My pouting Allie accusing me of loving my blog more than I love her.

IT IS TOTALLY MY FAULT, for spoiling them.

In a nutshell, I will post less often. Some weeks more than others.

However, I will follow all of you faithfully, leaving my stupid comments, sharing bad jokes, hopefully inspiring, definitely flirting, and leaving an occasional Chimpism.

I must confess, this saddens me, but…..

My butterflies and characters need to be tended to.

From the bottom of my heart and the heart of my bottom, I thank each and every one of you for your support.

If anyone needs to get in touch with me you can do it via my Contact Me page or via twitter @LonelyAuthorNY.

Have a wonderful week.
Keep smiling.
Keep writing.

Eternally Yours

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Eternally Yours

Tyler remembered driving through the heavy storm. Rain covered his windshield like a thick blanket of dripping wetness. He had no recollection of how he arrived in the hospital. He just knew he had to survive until…she arrived.

Too many strange faces before him. They brought little comfort; only she could provide relief. He ignored the weak signal of the electrocardiogram knowing the inevitable moment was upon him. He faded in and out of life. Then, suddenly she appeared.

he felt a familiar comfort
looking at that best thing
that ever happened to him
he admired her loving face
why was life terribly unfair
one lifetime wasn’t enough
time to be in love with her
staring at the best of his life
he suddenly felt tranquility
as he took his final breath
He saw eternity in her eyes

Photo taken from Google Images