One Last Adventure

Seriously, did you really think the Beach Boy didn’t have one last adventure in him? Today, I am flying to the Dominican Republic for a three month writing retreat/vacation.

Question: Who wrote the following? A tramp, a gentleman, a poet, a dreamer, a lonely fellow, always hopeful of romance and adventure.

The first week, I will be staying at exclusive 7,000 acre resort Casa de Campo. It is a great golfing resort. President Bill Clinton just stayed there in July. The resort’s theatre was opened with an exclusive concert by with performers Frank Sinatra , Buddy Rich, Heart. and Santana (Aug 20, 1982).

On my last vacation I chased whales. The itinerary for this trip begins with the exploration of the 100,000 year old Las Maravillas Caves, where long before Chistopher Columbus arrived, the Taino Indians left pictographs on the walls.

Altos de Chavón is a replica 16th century Mediterrean village which serves as a cultural center for students, tourists, and artists from around the world. St. Stanislaus church is a stone building in the center of the village. Consecrated in 1979, Pope John Paul II sent the ashes of Poland’s patron saint, St. Stanislaus, and a hand-carved statue from Krakow to commemorate the church’s inauguration.

Of course, I will be spending time with my goddaughter Dibel (a.k.a. Lily) and so many friends.

I will stick to my regular blogging schedule Monday and Thursday (comment closed)

Answer: Charlie Chaplin wrote these words in his diary.

A tramp, a gentleman, a poet, a dreamer, a lonely fellow, always hopeful of romance and adventure.

Sounds like anyone you know?

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Perdido

couple in rain

Hola People. No, I don’t post on Friday, but I had to make an exception today. I was challenged and inspired to do my first collaboration. So, here I am bursting at the seams. (Probably need to get out of that beach chair).

Lonely Author’s first collaboration with Nandita of A Tangle Of Weeds.

of https://nanditayata.wordpress.com/

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Perdido

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She undresses me with her words
baring my naked soul for all to read
Her poetry brought us closer together
as the love in her voice tore me apart

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He clothes me with his words so pure
As I bare myself to him when we’re alone
His words of love pulls me to him
To where he is, my soul has already flown
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She used my flesh as her canvas
painting words of love all over me
every sweet stroke so enticing
she left me trembling at her feet
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He planted his poetry in my heart
feeling my skin like a sightless man
He read me like he was reading Braille
He left me sighing in his eyes again
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She unfolded my origami heart
with whispers from her soul
now there is no escaping the reality
lost in her words I found love
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He unraveled my many layers
with the gentlest touch
made me fall in love so tenderly
Now in his abyss, I’m so lost.
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Photo from Google Images.

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.