~~ The misunderstanding ~~

"Good morning, Nancy. Is John in his office? I thought I'd surprise him." Emma flashed her white teeth and emerald green eyes at the receptionist. Her long brown hair was loose around her shoulders.

"Sure, Emma. I won't spoil the surprise"

Emma stopped in front of the door and was surprised to find it closed. She leaned her head closer to the door and heard some gasping sounds. Curiously, she opened the door to John's office and tiptoed in. Her jaw dropped and her eyes took on a haunted look.

He had his back to her and his arms around his secretary. Emma saw John bending over and embracing a tall blond woman. The woman's long slim fingers and well shaped arms were wrapped around him. "Everything will be alright," said John.

She felt numb as the color in her face faded to ash. The blood stopped flowing to her extremities.

Emma relived her childhood. In a flash she remembered everything... her mother crying in the middle of the night... her parents' violent arguments about the other women... her mother's constant silent drinking... and finally, her own screams when she found her mother dead surrounded by pill bottles.

Closing the door firmly but silently behind her, Emma walked out the office building and took the bus home.

*** Three months later ***

Silently, Emma looked up at the tall darkly handsome man before her. Of course John looked as good as ever. His broad shoulders were covered by an impeccably tailored blue blazer, while his slim hips and strong muscular legs were hidden by tan khaki pants. His skin was bronzed from the sun and his short, neatly-cut black hair was brushed back off his face.

She felt her pulse begin to quicken. She scowled in reaction to him and made a fist with her right hand, digging her nails into her palm. She felt like she was in a dream. Had time stopped passing? She raised her other hand up to her throat and gasped at the air.

John's dark gray eyes stared steadily at Emma, causing her to take a step back. Her green eyes darted nervously around the room. How did he find her? Her gaze finally rested on the door. Maybe she could still escape. He took a step closer to Emma and grasped her elbow.

"So, you really are here! We have to talk now. Tell them you're sick and let's get out of here" said John. His hand burned her flesh where he clasped her elbow.

Emma stood up straighter. "I can't leave now. These are my clothing designs and this is a private sale of my work. You were not invited!" Emma paused. "Anyway, I can't afford to close early. Not all of us inherited a family fortune," she said sarcastically. She glanced down at her watch. "I'm closing in an hour. Come back then and we'll talk. I promise."

"No, I'm not letting you out of my sight. No, not this time, not without a good explanation of why you left me." John looked around the room. His eyes spotted the couch which had been pushed off to the side. "I'll sit there and wait until you're finished."

She gulped. Her mind was racing. "Fine, just sit there if you want."

John walked over to the couch and sat down. His eyes hardly left Emma for the entire hour as she helped customers try on and buy one of kind hand painted clothes. The jackets, suits and coats weren't just clothing, but more like works of art. She was doing a brisk trade.

He couldn't believe he had found her. After all this time he had finally found her.

It had been a shock for him to come home three month ago and find Emma had disappeared from his life. She had hardly packed anything. It was like she was fleeing for her life. She hadn't even packed her toothbrush. What was he supposed to think happened to her when she didn't even pack her toothbrush? He had been sure that Emma had been abducted or killed, but the police insisted that it looked like she left voluntarily.

It was hard for him to accept the fact that she had left for good and with hardly a word. It had taken him two months before he realized that she wasn't coming back. After those two months, he hired a private investigator to find her.

It just didn't make sense, and John was a man who liked everything to make sense. He just wanted to know why she had left him. Then he could move on. The message she had left on the answering machine after she had left just hadn't made sense. She kept repeating, "How could you betray me? How could you betray me?"

He had thought that they had the kind of relationship that lasts. Before Emma had disappeared, John had planned to ask her to marry him. He had made reservations for the best table at the Rainbow Room and had picked out an emerald ring that matched her eyes perfectly. How could she have left without an explanation? It just wasn't like her. Things couldn't have been better between them. Or so he thought, until she disappeared. It just didn't make sense.

He remembered how he couldn't get enough of her curvaceous body and how her hair always smelled like roses. Their lovemaking had been filled with passion. Why had she left?

The private detective had called him just this morning to let him know that he had finally found Emma's address. She was living in New Paltz, New York. Immediately, he canceled all of his appointments and drove up.

John watched Emma lock the door on the last customer. She paused at the door. Her shoulders tensed up. Finally, she turned around and asked, "Would you like some coffee or a drink?"

"No, just come sit down and let's talk."

Emma walked over to the couch and sat down beside him. "I'm surprised to see you. What are you doing here?"
"I think that's obvious. I want an explanation from you."

Her face grew hot. "An explanation? I don't need to explain anything. You know what you did," she retorted as she tapped her fingers lightly on the couch.

"That's just it. I don't know what I did wrong. You were wrong to leave without explaining. I thought you were dead." A muscle twitched in his jaw and his eyes clouded over.

"Wrong? What are you talking about? You're the one who cheated on me with your secretary. Couldn't you be a little more original than that, John?" She tightened her hands into fists.

John's gray eyes turned to steel as he reached for her hands and encased them in his own. "You think I was having an affair with my secretary? What in the world made you think that?"

Emma felt her hands relax in his hands. Her face flushed as she felt her hands tingle in his. "Huh? I saw you kissing her the morning I left."

"Kissing Beverly? Why would I kiss Beverly? I loved you. I was going to ask you to marry me."

"I saw you kissing Beverly." She pulled her hand away from him and wrapped her arms around herself.

John walked over to the bar and poured himself a scotch straight up. He drank the shot in one gulp and grimaced slightly. His body tensed up and he turned around. "Beverly got a call that her father had died suddenly. I was holding her to comfort her."

Her face turned ashen and her eyes looked haunted by an inner pain. "No. You're lying to me!"

John walked over to Emma and grabbed her shoulders and gently shook her. "I would never lie to you."

She started to cry. "I just couldn't bear the idea of you sleeping with another woman. I had to leave." John sat down next to her and held her in his arms. He rocked her gently as she cried silent sobs which seemed to rack her body. Her tears didn't stop for fifteen minutes.

Her red rimmed eyes looked into John's. "I thought you were a cheater like my father was. I thought all men were like him." She paused and then sobbed, "How can I make this up to you?"

John got up and walked over to stare out the window. "You know my niece, Kayla?"

She puzzled up her face in concern. "Yes, of course I do. What's the matter with her?

"Her parents have left her in my care for the year. It seems that taking a year long trip around the world was more important to them then raising their daughter," he said sardonically. "I need you to come back to New York and help me take care of her. You're the only one she trusts."

"They abandoned a three year old? How could they?" Emma got up and walked over to John. There was an impenetrable silence for several minutes.

"Of course, I'll go back to New York and help you with Kayla."

John leaned toward her and brushed the tears from her cheeks. She lifted her face up to his and their lips touched. He kissed her hard and deep and then slowly he licked the tears from her face as he gazed into her eyes. He enveloped her in his arms and her soft body melted into his hard one until there wasn't a space left between them. She kissed his neck and put her arms up around his neck. He lifted her up and twirled her around. "I love you."

"And I love you" said Emma.

~~ The victim...~~

I’m not usually one for post coital conversation. It makes me uncomfortable.
But on this occasion I sensed that in addition to the forty minutes of perspiration soaked pumping… conversation was what I was going to get.

His finger traced a line down my naked back from neck down through my spine, pausing intermittently before planting a kiss on it. Almost immediately a rash of goose bumps covered my body.

“You faked it - didn’t you”

Except for the crisp white sheet I was stretched out on, the bedcovers lay in a frenzied heap on the floor. The hotel room’s cold, artificial air sent a little chill through me.
My mind hosted a quick debate on the topic “Faking orgasms occasionally is good for a relationship”. The affirmative won by a whisker but I decided to lie anyway. I hoped I didn’t sound too irritated.

“Why the hell would I do that? I have a husband I can fake it with. What would be the point of having an affair if I’m going to feign sexual satisfaction? Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t an affair based on sexual gratification? Today was amazing. It’s always amazing with you”

He said nothing for a moment. I thought I was safe. I desperately wanted a nap.

“I don’t know – it’s just that I want you to tell me if I’m not doing everything right. I want to please you - every time”

I rolled over on my back. He sat naked and cross legged, at the foot of the bed.
“You DO please me every time. You please me enormously EVERY TIME.” I smiled and held out my arms, into which he tumbled like a child needing reassurance from a mother. I knew that conversation was now inevitable. Lots of conversation that would probably lead to another bout of urgent, tumultuous sex.

“Do you know how long we’ve been doing this…?
“Doing what?” I teased
“You know what I mean…”
“Oh I don’t know. 6 months maybe?”
He sat up and gave me his “duh…are you kidding” grin.
“It’s been nearly eight. And I worked it out the other day. We’ve probably had slept in about a hundred and fifty times. And rarely in the same place twice. Isn’t that amazing?”
I didn’t mean to laugh at that point, but I couldn’t help it.
The grin disappeared as he straddled me and cupped me gently.
“How many times …out of that hundred and fifty would you say I’ve made you satisfied…?”
“What are you…the bureau of statistics?”
“No, I was just wondering”

I couldn’t keep the irritation out of my voice...
“Honey, it doesn’t matter… does it? To be honest I haven’t kept count, and having an orgasm isn’t the be-all and end-all for me.”
“I know…but it turns me on so much when I can make it happen for you”

I wished that he could make silence happen for me.
“I hate it when you analyze things. Can’t we just enjoy the togetherness for what it is?”
His reaction surprised the hell out of me. He climbed off me…his green eyes flashing with anger.
“The sex? The sex? Like…the breakfast cereal. Or the flu? What’s going on here Morgan? Are you bored with me and this relationship or something? Is there someone else you’d rather be with besides me?”

I sat up and faced him directly.
My own reaction surprised me too. I realized that my words mirrored feelings I’d been suppressing for weeks.
“It’s not YOU I’m bored with, just all this stupid chit chat and you trying to pigeon hole this...this situation. This is an AFFAIR, not a relationship. A relationship is what I have with my husband. You’ve known this all along. I’m married and I choose to stay married. What we have is sex. Lots of it. And that’s all we can ever have. I don’t intend to leave my husband. And even if I did, I doubt if…”

I stopped myself but it was too late.
I’d delivered the fatal blow. Hurt was spurting from a major artery.
“Oh I see. Even if you did leave him, we wouldn’t continue… right?”
I tried to stem the flow.
“Look Rick the last six…I mean eight months has been amazing…”
“HAS been…? Oh so I’m right. This is it then. Just like that. I knew something was wrong, I’ve sensed it for ages.”
The crumpled look on his face activated a tiny worm of panic inside me. It started burrowing through my stomach.
“What IS it with you? We’ve both always known where we stand on this. My feelings for you are entirely separate to my feelings for Derek. You and I have no ties to each other – you are completely free to pursue other relationships. An affair lasts as long as it does.”

“Don’t quote me from one of your books Morgan. I’m not a piece of research…or am I? But then… affairs are your specialty. You know what? You’re so damn insensitive, cold and unfeeling.”

He leapt from the bed and fumbled under the pile of bedclothes for his jocks. He dressed in moments. After putting on his shoes, he sat on the edge of the bed with his back to me. I heard the small quaver in his voice as he finally said the dreaded words that had gone unspoken for eight months.

“I love you Morgan. I know you don’t want to hear it, and I didn’t expect it to happen, but I thought you would have sensed it by now. I even hoped you might share my feelings. All those times we made love…I can’t believe you felt it was nothing more than sex. You couldn’t be that detached. But then anyone who could go home to her husband and hop into bed with the smell of another man still on her has no feelings for anyone but herself”
“Rick!”
“Forget it Morgan. I know it’s over, but don’t ask me for quiet acceptance. I have feelings too you know”
He strode to the door and was gone.

Later that evening, Derek and I shared a quiet meal at Antonio’s, one of our favorite Italian restaurants in Paddington. We both enjoyed Antonio’s cozy dark corners where we could hide. This evening, despite the sensuous gloom of candlelight, a plump woman around mid forties wearing a loose fitting floral dress waddled towards us. She clutched a copy of my latest book “When It’s Over …It’s Over” to her generous bosom.

“Oh my God! It IS you. Morgan McLean. I thought it was you when you walked in. I love your books – they’ve helped me so much with my self esteem. You’ve shown me that it’s okay to be me – I feel so liberated and in control of my life now. Thanks to you I now have the courage to end an affair …”

I was slightly taken aback. More than a little surprised that this homely woman would be engaging in an extra marital relationship. Still, if I believed my own words, it should have come as no surprise that affairs… like shit I’d come to discover…happen.
She bent down slightly towards me and whispered
“You are the BEST relationship expert I have ever come across. I’d rather read your books than do anything in the whole wide world.”
Other than eat, I thought.

“I’m so glad my books have been a positive influence in your life”
I pasted on my fake smile and took the book from her. She thrust a pen at me.
“Can you write…“To Julie, your life is about to change in a big way…best wishes Morgan McLean”
I did so and handed the book and pen back to her.
“How do you think he’ll take it…?” I asked
“Sorry?”
“When you end your affair…”
The woman frowned.
“Oh I’m not having an affair, my husband is. And I haven’t ended it yet, but I will...tonight I think”

The woman beamed a wide smile, gushed her “thank you’s”, and swept away.

Throughout all this, Derek sat quiet and invisible. He was used to strangers accosting me in restaurants, cinemas, theatres, art galleries. He always stepped back and let me handle it – and always with an amused grin on his face.

I know this all sounds bizarre, but with Derek I have almost everything. Companionship, friendship, someone I can laugh with and share my innermost thoughts. He has supported me through every step of my career, and nursed me through the many rejections from publishers as I tried to build it. It was Derek who arranged my first television interview and from there, my career soared. He has promoted and marketed my work and I owe him everything. Dear, stable, quiet, reliable Derek. My partner for fifteen years. My rock. Yes, with Derek I have everything. Except a sex life.

I was 27 when we met. I was a magazine journalist at the time. Good for bread and butter but I hated it. I desperately wanted to write books. I’d written a romantic, epic novel – a pretty bad one now that I think of it, although I was convinced it was the next “Gone with the Wind”. Never published of course... Years earlier in university, I had gained a degree in Clinical Psychology, a subject which was useful for the next two murder mystery novels. Also pretty bad, and also never published.

Derek was – and still is – an advertising guru. One of the owners and founders of the largest advertising company in the country, “Simbleton, Obley, Struther”.

From the first moment I met him, I loved his lazy, laconic style of humor. The fact that he was twenty years my senior didn’t seem to matter at the time. He was single, in fact never married. It would be remiss of me not to mention his wealth and influence as an attractive feature. And his blonde, boyish good looks wrapped up a package that seemed far too good to be true. We were smitten with each other and within 4 months we were married. I felt as though I’d been let loose in the biggest and best department store in the world. However, about a month after our marriage, I realized that if I wanted anything resembling a happy life, I would have to shop in another department store.

While Derek’s masculinity drive was low but adequate before we married, it quickly dwindled to almost zero afterwards. At first I thought I’d married a gay man. In many ways I could have accepted it more easily if Derek had been gay. We visited clinics, psychologists, psychiatrists and sex therapists…all to no avail. We tried drug therapy, acupuncture, meditation – even a tantric instructor. Derek remained in a state of constant flaccidity. Inactive masculinity drive notwithstanding, Derek is considerate towards my own healthy sexual appetite. His bank balance is not usually a fair compensation for my neediness.

But sometimes a girl just needs something more than money, expensive gems, diamonds, jaguars, luxurious gourmets…something more than caress…hard and long.

Derek is aware of that need – and even more aware that he cannot satisfy it. So we have an unspoken agreement. When my itch becomes unbearable, I arrange for it to be scratched. He knows that I will never forsake him, or our relationship. We never discuss my trysts with other men. I always don my protective coat of love-proof armor before an encounter. Conventional words like love, respect and commitment are reserved for my husband, so the affairs are always discreet and conducted with one objective…sexual satisfaction. I choose them all carefully. Young, strong, virile and interested…only in the same thing as me. I was happy to have them beside my body, but not inside my head…and certainly not inside my heart. Rick, it seems was now having a hard time accepting that. I was fast coming to realize that Rick was threatening my perfect life.

Shortly after our marriage, I left the magazine and Derek provided me with the necessary environment and financial support to write the books that have made me famous. I’ve been called the “relationship expert”. On TV programs and radio talk shows, I’m lauded as someone who has changed the lives of thousands. I try not to take all the hype too seriously. It’s just that I’ve always thought that some people have a very complicated view of their own lives. We live by so many rules and laws already that it’s often impossible to enjoy life. My theory is that if you simplify things – see situations for what they are, and squeeze every drop of pleasure out of every single day, then you’ll be happier than you ever dreamed possible. If your work or personal situation makes you unhappy, then change it. Because if you don’t, you have none to blame for your resulting misery but yourself. In a nutshell, that’s what my books are about. I’ve simply cashed in on my own philosophy in life.

After our meal at Antonio’s, Derek drove us home.
At first we chatted about the woman in the restaurant, and about the new book I was working on. I was tired and the episode with Rick had added a sour flavor to my day. Derek sensed my preoccupation and we drove the rest of the way in silence.

We prepared for bed and just before I climbed in I decided to check if I had any phone messages. As I suspected, the red light on the answer phone in my office was flashing wildly. 6 messages! I pressed play. The first message was from Rusty Chan, my publisher. The next five were from Rick. I turned down the volume and played them back. The panic worm snapped to attention and began to tunnel furiously.

“Morgan it’s me. I know I’m not supposed to ring you at home, but I need to see you. Please Morgan, it can’t end like this. Call me when you get this message”

Messages two and three were similar, but with decreasing degrees of self control. It was the last rambling, desperate message that shocked me most.

“I’m sorry about this Morgan. I just wanted you to know something. I didn’t want you to know this but …I’m married.”

I almost dropped the phone. I had no idea that Rick had a wife. He’d never mentioned it …but then it occurred to me that I’d never asked him.

“I don’t love her. These last few months have meant more to me than you can imagine. I’ve fallen in love with you so hard I can’t believe it. I’ve made a decision and I’m going to leave her. I think she knows about us anyway. It’s like you control some sort of light switch in my life. When I’m not with you I’m in total darkness. See that’s the effect you have on a lot of people. With your books I mean. They rely on you to be the guiding light in their lives. I don’t know if you realize that. It’s a big responsibility Morgan…and when you mess with people’s lives, you face the consequences. I want to discuss this with you. If you decide you don’t want to talk to me ever again that’s fine, but here’s what I’ll do. I’ll go see your husband and tell him all about us. Then I’ll go to the papers and magazines and even a radio or TV talk show, and tell the nation that their favorite relationship expert lives a spineless marriage and has to resort to affairs to keep herself satisfied. How do you think THAT would affect the sales of your books?”

There was an abrupt click. The panic worm was going crazy. I went to the bathroom and threw up.

When I finally came to bed, Derek was asleep. I was relieved because I wouldn’t have had the presence of mind to lie about the phone calls.
I knew that sleep would be out of the question, so I lay awake trying to piece together a solution to my problem. I thought about going to the police and telling them that Rick was a psycho fan who’d been stalking me for months. I dismissed that idea quickly, knowing that he would have evidence of our trysts. Amidst all the turmoil in my mind, I realized how little I really knew about Rick. How little I’d really wanted to know. His amazing performances in the bedroom were all I’d ever been concerned about.

I drifted off to sleep, and quickly fell victim to a night of ugly dreams.

I came down late for breakfast. Derek glanced up and smiled over his newspaper.
“Bad night darling…?”
I answered him probably a bit too quickly.
“Oh no…just a few things going on in my head about the new book…Rusty’s pressuring me a little. Nothing much really.”
I managed a feeble smile. I knew I looked like I’d had no sleep.
Derek pulled the social pages from the middle of the newspaper and handed them to me. Just as I was pouring my first coffee…the phone rang.
Derek answered.

After a few moments, he handed me the phone. I caught his worried frown, and stood up to take the call.

“Hello…?”
“Is this Morgan McLean?”
“Yes, speaking”
“This is Senior Detective Peter Wallace from the homicide division of the city police department. Ms McLean...I’m sorry to inform you that a murder took place in the early hours of yesterday evening.”

I let the information seep in and panic gripped my throat. I thought of my parents…my sister…my two closest friends. I couldn’t breathe and for a moment I thought my fiercely pounding heart would crash through my chest.

“Ms McLean…the reason for this call is that…well… we have the suspect in custody. And her statement indicates that the victim was known to you. I wonder if you could come down to the station and answer a few questions for us”

I felt the blood drain from my face. The words victim and suspect seemed surreal to me.

“Who…what…victim…?”
“Ms. McLean I can’t really discuss this on the phone…you will need to come down to the station. We can send a car for you right away…”
By now Derek realized that something was very wrong.
He stood behind me with his hands supportively on my shoulders.
I could feel the hysteria rising as I gushed
“Just tell me who the victim was! This is ridiculous…please don’t let it me my mother or father…was it someone in my family…? Don’t do this to me!”

“The victim was a Richard Dean”
Oh my god. Rick…!
The phone slid from my hand and my legs buckled…trying to put myself in the victim’s shoes…

~~ Infidelity ~~

I'm a writer. I specialize in short murder mysteries, so is not unusual that I keep a gun. Actually I have several. It helps establish authenticity when you can actually look at the object you describing. Besides which, I enjoy collecting them. I have an 18th century flintlock pistol in pride of place over my Mantel, along with several trophies earned through my involvement with the pistol club.

Although I've had three books of short stories published, I'm working on my first novel. My publisher would like it completed in six weeks. Fat chance! After all been through these last few months, I'll be lucky to have it finished this year.

Six months ago, while riding high on the success of my third book, I discovered my husband was having an affair.

It came as a complete surprise, though in retrospect, I guess I hadn't really been taking much notice of David. I was busy with my career, and I suppose I to my marriage had granted.

I hadn't noticed that he was coming in later and later each evening, nor had I paid any attention to his excuses. I was completely involved in my work. I was married, in a sense, to my word processor.

A typical day from me is one where I lock myself away in my office from 7 am until around noon, working solidly at my machine. I have lunch, and then walk for an hour with my St Bernard, Achates, through the fields around my farm. I love the peace and tranquility of the farm, yet it's only a 20 minutes drive to the city, where, unfortunately I often need to be.

At two, are usually make all obligatory phone calls, or run any errands before settling back into my office at three, and working until 9 pm…a fairly rigid schedule, but one that any dedicated writer would find necessary.

There are, however, deviations from all schedules. On the day of my last book launch, I had the book signing session to attend in the city, and an appointment to take Achates to the vet, after which I had arranged to meet my publisher, Rusty Chan for lunch

My husband's office in the law firm Martin, Maguire and Hamilton, is just across the road from the restaurant. As I was a little early from my luncheon appointment, I decided to make an impromptu call on David. I walked into the foyer of the building, and as I waited for the lift to take me to his office on the 13th floor, I noticed a red Mercedes convertible pull up outside the building.

I recognize the car is belonging to Diane Lane, a woman I have known for 10 years, and whom I considered a good friend and confidante. It was, in fact Diane who had encouraged me to write.

In the passenger seat was David. This immediately struck me as odd because I'd always thought that David never cared much for Diane. "Too prim and proper", he always said. The next thing I saw was Diane slip her scheming arms around my husband’s conniving neck as he delivered a passionate, lingering kiss on her prim and proper lips.

The lift door opened. Dazed, I got in and press the button for the 25th floor and the roof of the building.

An icy wind tugged at my hair as I leaned over the railing and gazed down at the streets. I saw the red Mercedes drive away, and the end that was my miserable husband enter the building. I felt angry, betrayed and humiliated. How could I not have known! And how they both must have laughed at me?

At home later that afternoon, I placed the floor trying to decide what to do. Then the phone rang. It was the vet with some devastating news. I was told that my beloved Achates had an inoperable tumor in her stomach. It was terminal. "Six months", he said. "It would be kinder to have her put to sleep".

In one afternoon, my whole world had collapsed around me. I'd been betrayed by two people I loved and trusted. And now, the ultimate irony. I was being forced to betray my most loyal and unconditionally loving companion. I felt helpless and out-of-control.

I locked myself in my office and cried tears of frustration, grief and anger. I had no wish to talk to or share my heartache, and my heart truly felt as though it would break. I tried to imagine life without David, and somehow that prospect didn't seem as dismal as life without Achates.

I managed to transfer my feelings of lost to my word processor, and sometime later, I began to type furiously, filling the screen over and over with words and emotions that just seemed to pour from me.

The plot began to form, a storyline developed, and quite by accident that afternoon, the skeleton of a rather good novel was created.

So here I am, six months down the track, still working on that novel. Rusty is excited, as all good publishers are when their favorite author is about to produce their best work.

Sadly, I made the most difficult decision of my life, and had Achates put to sleep shortly after the diagnosis of her tumor.

I might do not-so-difficult decision and divorce David three months ago, almost immediately after which he would have married Diane-in a very "prim and proper" wedding ceremony.

And after a long and fruitful association, I parted company with my word processor. It was my very best friend, yet it betrayed me too. An electronic malfunction caused it to wipe to entire chapters of my novel. A major setback, and quite unforgivable.

I bought a brand-new computer yesterday, and since the word processor was declared officially beyond repair, I decided to use it for target practice.

They say that the first line should get you in. While how's this for a first line? I've just shot my once best friend…with whom I had vowed to be the most trusted and loving wife, till death parts…

After David was back from work, freshened up and sat down on the kitchen table for the lavish dinner and red wine. We finished the dinner silently. No not silent…..we didn’t speak, just our clanking cutlery did. Occasionally our eyes met, and we shared a plastic smile. After dinner he walked to his study as usual. I habitually would have gone to bed, instead I went after him. I found him seated on his rocking chair with a journal.

I walked in front of him and BANG. I did it with a .32 calibre Smith & Wesson revolver. In fact, the barrel is still warm, and the pungent smell of hot, smoking metal is somewhat satisfying to the nostrils. I shot five times... just for the hell of it.

I promise you, it didn't feel a thing.

~~ Mixed Feelings...~~

Are you happy? It sounds like the simplest question on earth. But is it really? Most people will answer "Yes, I am" or "Of course, I'm happy". But are they really happy? Or are they just answering that question with an expected answer...

Happiness means different things to different people. For most people, they equate happiness with power and money... But if you really think about it, do the most powerful and wealthiest people in the world look truly happy?

For some people, happiness just means that they are contented with what they have.

But this kind of thinking will only get misunderstood by others of being complacency or not ambitious enough. But what they don't know is that these people are normally the happiest people on earth because they will always just live for today…so they will savor everything that they get and they are thankful for it.

There are majority of people in this world who hate their jobs and always feel that they are meant to do something big/different in their life. While it is good to dream big, at least hold on tight to what is important to you right now so that you will not lose your SOUL while you are chasing your dreams.

Do you ever feel voices screaming inside your head….? Do you ever have mixed feelings about doing or not doing something….?

Panic. Fear. A clammy cold settles on my sweat-lathered skin. Tears that burn in my red-rimmed eyes fog my vision. I am in a cloud, a dense forest of haze impenetrable by my swirling, chaotic mind.

Betrayal. Shock. Every muscle trembles, stiff. I feel weakness in my bones. My heart pounds, my lungs ache, my veins contract.

Anger. Pain. My vision is tinged with blood, my fingers clenched on the hard weapon beneath my fingers. I strengthen my resolve and move in.

Confusion. Weakness. Seconds away, and it will end. Darkness will fall. I will diminish to no more than nothing. My soul will shatter. And yet I move forwards, not knowing why.

Torture. Anguish. The voice… it speaks. My chest will surely burst as it swells with memories. Memories of the voice that even now, at the edge of the world, the end, will not plead. I cannot do this. I am not strong. I need someone to lean on. And yet, the support that was once there beside me now stands helpless before my eyes, defiant and cold. I am certain that this is for my benefit, and yet I hate him for it.

Cold. Empty. The red fades to gray. Nothing is beautiful any longer. Elements such as beauty and love no longer hold meaning. Not when I am this far. This ruined. No repair can come to my soul.

Fury. Insanity. A scream rips from my parched lips, the silence exploding into fragments of distorted images of the past, present. No future; that does not exist. Only what is and once was matters as a powerful motion erases all hesitation. The earth barely shakes as his body arcs to the dirt laden forest floor.

I allow the tears to finally run free. The sun washes over my face, my bare arms, and my dirtied legs from the weeks of tracking. I see the gleam of light upon my blade, glittering red. "I love you." The words echo in my mind, over and over, and I covet the hope that they had realized, in the end, who I was and who they were. And why, even when love conquers all, I had selflessly thrown aside all of our dreams and hopes for what really mattered.

For the world. For all mankind. For the conquest of evil to be pulled to a halt, so that good could reign the bloodstained lands once again.

I did not look back then...and I won't look back again....
Don't know why I am feeling a bit philosophical today? I guess I am just being affected by my instinct... Perhaps, sometimes when things don't go your way, all you have to do is smile…

~~ Shadows ~~

I am a lady who walks alone
And when I'm walking a dark road

At night, or strolling through the park
When the light begins to change
I sometimes feel a little strange
A little anxious when it's dark
I have constant fear that something's always near
Fear of the dark…is that it…?

Have you run your fingers down the wall?
And have you felt your neck skin crawl?
And cold sweat trickling down your spine?
When you're searching for the light?

Sometimes when you're scared to take a look,
At the corner of the room?
Have you sensed that something's watching you?
Fear of the dark…that must be it…

~~ Compassion called “LIFE” ~~

Angels must be confused by war.
Both sides praying for protection,
Yet someone always gets hurt.
Someone dies.
Someone cries so deep
And someone has his last laugh.

Who can they help?
Who can they clarify?
Whose mercy do they cast to the merciless?
No modest scream can be heard.
No stainless pain can be felt.
All is clear to angels
Except in war.

When I awoke to this truth,
It was from a dream I had last night.
I saw two angels conversing in a field
Of spirits rising like silver smoke.
The angels were fighting among themselves
About which side was right,
And which was wrong.
Who started the conflict?

Suddenly, the angels stilled themselves
Like a stalled pendulum,
And they shed their compassion
To the rising smoke
Of souls who bore the watermark of war.
They turned to me with those eyes
Fiery and glowing,
And all the pieces fallen
Were raised in unison,
Intertwined like the breath
Of flames in a furnace.

Nothing in war comes to destruction,
But the illusion of separateness.
I heard this spoken so clearly I could only
Write it down like a forged signature.
I remember the compassion,
Mountainous, proportioned for the universe.
I think a tiny fleck still sticks to me,
Like gossamer threads
From a spider's web.

And now, when I think of war,
I flick these threads to the entire universe,
Hoping they stick on others as they did me.
Knitting angels and animals
To the filament grace of compassion.
The reticulum of our skyward home.

Look well to this day,
For it and it alone is life.
In its brief course
Live all the essence of your existence:

The Glory of Growth
The Satisfaction of Achievement
The Splendor of Beauty

For yesterday is but a dream,
And tomorrow is but a vision.
But today well lived makes every yesterday a dream of happiness,
And every tomorrow a vision of hope...

~~ Trapped in my own Reverie ~~

Falling upward
Into a world
Of unknown
Feel like a coward

Like a worm, I curled
In darkness I drown
Held within a spiders web
A curse is brought upon you

Stuck in a maze bed
Attacked by a pirate cruel.
Clowns are surrounding
Laughing
Mocking me
Alone and afraid
Can’t you see?
Pins and needles
I’m already dead…..

As I enter the room
I stop and I stare
There is noise all around me
Yet no one is there

I am surrounded by darkness
Nowhere to turn
To find a way out
I desperately yearn

I feel all around but there is nothing but black
So tangible
So thick
Of light there is a lack

I feel like a mouse
Trapped in a cage
On the brink of tears
Yet not in rage
And just as I am about to give up hope and just cry

I’ll never smell freshly cut grass
Or feel the warm breeze on my face
I’ll never squint from the glare of the sun,
Or feel the sand beneath my feet

I’ll no longer laugh with friends on outings,
Or dance to the tunes in our clubs,
To run in the wind or dance in the rain,
And shelter in doorways from the chill

I’ll no longer watch my children run free
Or couples in love holding hands
I’ll no longer dress for occasions,
And plan for a fun time out

I feel something beneath my hand
I keep going feeling for I cannot spy
And then at last an empty space
Perhaps finally my freedom I will chase…

Coz, I am here in a box of terror,
Too terrified to look out,
Yet watching life pass me by….
As I exist but no longer live.

Why is it terrifying to live?
Why do I cry and scream from the torments of my mind?
To feel trapped by everything,
It makes you feel blind

I have fought against my terror,
I have watched my mind awake
But without a moment’s notice I’m a broken doll
Drown in a lake

The world keeps on spinning,
The ants don’t see my pain
I don’t have any fight left in me,
Why can’t I be sane?

I used to have a life
I used to be free,
But now I tremble in terror
From my self-imposed prison called “me”…!

~~ What is so scary...? ~~

I lay on my bed soaking my pillow with my tears,
I try to remember exactly what it is that I fear.
Beyond the shadows are gruesome creatures;
their faces distorted with beast-like features.
Where they come from, no one knows.
They wait for me beyond the shadows.

In the darkness, they await.
Grisly horror to be my fate.
Death felt in the air, my fear grows.
Evilness lingers beyond the shadows.

Is it the passing of time or the love that I lack?
Is it the mistakes that I've made or the fact that I can't bring the past back?
What is it that I'm afraid of?
Why am I so scared?
Is it the people I've hurt or the people that have hurt me?
Am I afraid of everything that I can’t seem to see?

Is it the love of a friend, or the loss of my family?
Is it the possibility that my life can end in a tragedy?
What is it that I fear most?
What do my eyes say I'm scared of?
Is it the sun that sets but won't seem to rise?
Is it the hope that I have that always seems to die?

Is it the trust of a person that I cannot begin to grasp?
Is it all the memories of my horrid past?
Is it me?
They finally come to take me to Hell;
Their black spirits casting a demonic spell.
The terror felt inside easily shows.
Death comes for me beyond the shadows.

Beyond the shadows my soul was taken;
Lost in a world where I’ve been forsaken.
When they may come for you, nobody knows.
Beware of what lies beyond the shadows.

Can it possibly be that the thing I fear most is the thing I can't be?
The things that I try to understand?
The “me” that I try to be with when I'm feeling sad?
The person I'm expected to be?
Is that what I fear? . . .
I think the thing I fear most . . . is “me”…

~~ Fears of an innocent mind ~~

Fear of love,
Fear of pain,
Fear of the unforgiving cane,
Fear of lies,
Fear of sighs,
Fear of those distraught eyes,
Fear for the unknown,
Fear for the known,
Fear of everything combined,
Fear is what makes me blind,
Fear is what makes me think,
And act in blind accordance...
Fear is when you run away,
Fear is when you’re scared to love someone,
Fear is when the sky turns grey,
Fear is when you lose your loved ones,
Fear is a feeling of danger,
Fear is when you aren’t brave,
Fear is the feeling of anger,
Fear is when you can’t behave,
Fear is when you’re shy,
Fear is like not having devotion,
Fear is when you’re afraid of saying bye,
Fear is like a dark blue ocean,
Fear is like ending you’re career,
Fear is like being lonely,
Fear is like not being able to reappear,
Fear is like feeling ghostly,
Fear is like an ashtray, used,
Fear is like a dark dungeon...
Fear is hindering the world around me,
Hence, My Fear of myself ...
Fear is when you run away,
Fear is when you’re scared to love someone,
Fear is when the sky turns grey,
Fear of confusion,
Fear is like a dark blue ocean,
Fear won’t let me escape
Fear mocks me, watching
Fear taunts me, waiting
Fear of losing,
Fear you cannot see,
Fear dealt upon thee...
Fear of darkness and death,
Fear of a dead comrade,
Fear of a gun being cocked,
Fear of being endlessly stalked,
Fear of time,
Fear of all the crime,
Fear of the undesirable truth,
Fear for the good.
Fear for the sake of life,
Fear of the neighbors next door,
Fear of the secretive man in the subway,
Fear of the revolutionary uproar,
Fear is to not rejoice your living,
Fear for the sake of your life,
But to fear is to forsake it.
Fear is to have no hope in life,
Fear of the fear of fear,
We need no reason to fear,
For fear has no reason for itself.
I guess life is just like that,
To fear for no reason,
For to fear is not to reason,
But to reason is to fear.
To fear for the sake of fear,
Is it fear of fear?
So let me think...
What else do I terror?
What else do I dread?
What else do I fear...?

~~ Terror ~~

In the deepest depths of you and me
In the deepest depths of we
Lies the most beautiful jewel
Shining forth eternally....

Within that precious jewel
Within that priceless piece of we
Lies a time beyond all time
Lies a place beyond all space

Within that sacred source of radiance
Lies a love beyond all love
Waiting ...
Waiting ...
Waiting...
Ever so patiently to be free...

Waiting for you, waiting for me
Waiting patiently for all to see
The loathing that is inside of me
The abhorrence that is inside of thee

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness
That most frightens us.

We ask ourselves
Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.

You’re playing small
Does not serve the world.
There's nothing enlightened about shrinking
So that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine,
As children do.
We were born to make manifest
The glory of God that is within us.

It's not just in some of us;
It's in everyone....concealed somewhere deep within.

And as we let our own light shine,
We unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we're liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others.

In the deepest depths of you and me
In the deepest depths of we
Lies the love, wisdom, hatred and excruciating terror.
Of all Eternity...

~~ What I want to know... ~~

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for,
And if you dare to dream of meeting
Your heart is longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
For love, for your dream,
For the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow,
If you have been opened by life's betrayals,
Or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain,
Mine or your own,
Without moving
To hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy,
Mine or your own,
If you can dance with wildness
And let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
Without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic,
Or to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself,
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
I want to know if you can be faithless and therefore be trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty
Even when it is not pretty every day,
And if you can source your life
From its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure,
Yours and mine,
And still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes!"

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair,
Weary and bruised to the bone,
And do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
In the center of the fire with me
And not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
From the inside
When all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
With yourself,
And if you truly like the company you keep
In the empty moments.

~~ A new leaf… ~~

Life changes. Weathers change. And so do the winds of time. Just like winds changing the patters on sand…perhaps time has the same effect on wounds of hurt heart….
And just as everyone has different tolerance level to take in pain, so does he have different forbearance to let go of it…..it all depends on the grip one has on pain; and how dearly he holds onto it, mistaking PAIN for LIFE……holding onto it….as if it’s the only source of survival. No one can assess how humongous is the pain, pressure and mental torture for them. No one knows how silently the pain oozes through their bleeding hidden emotions.
Fear is a part of life. It is part of the range of feelings that humans experience on a daily basis. In our culture, fear has come to be experienced as negative. However, the truth is that panic/ fright/fear is a perfectly normal feeling to experience and we would all feel a lot better if we simply allowed ourselves to feel it fully. If we do not we will have somatic symptoms of fear that are much more painful than simply allowing the feeling to be felt.
Fear is the sweat dripping down your face as you walk along through the woods or swarm streets. Fear is the anxiety of waiting for your report card, so you can grab it first rather than your parents. Fear is all the sharks swimming freely in the ocean while you are scuba diving. Fear is "a feeling of agitation and anxiety caused by the existence or presence of danger." A disturbance when danger is around or when you experience jeopardy, you yourself are worried for your well-being and comfort. Fear is a negative emotional state of mind. A state or condition marked by this feeling, says that it is the stipulation that you are in or that you think of when you are scared.
You could experience fear when someone frightens you and they bombshell you and you jump in bewilderment. Some people will say that you made their heart stop or something of the sort from being so surprised. Some people scream as loud as possible and quiver. Also some people are so scared that they just stand there like they are frozen. Some people may pass out like in the movies, but that probably doesn't happen often. People who are easily frightened are categorized as "scary cats." I believe it's because cats are also easily frightened.
Fear is an emotion produced by the brain to avoid a potentially bad situation or anxiety caused by the presence of danger. Fear caused by a threatening object or situation will typically result in increased body tension, heart rate, blood pressure, and breathing rate. These symptoms tend to produce different behavioral patterns in people. The ways these symptoms affect me are when I am in danger of failing or when I am alone. These two things are what you could call my two greatest fears. Winston Churchill once said, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” This famous saying shows that fear affects people as much as they let it affect them. Many people have a fear of failure and it affects them in various ways.
My fear of failure, in a way, has helped me through a lot of my problems. I have recognized this fear that I experience and the only way to prevent this feeling is to do everything I can to accomplish what I need to do. My way of coping with failure is really easy; I just work hard enough to do well. This technique I use helps me from experiencing my fear of failure. My fear of being alone doesn’t exist when I am alone in a dark place, but it does exist when I am in new surroundings. I hate the feeling of not having someone there to talk to or laugh with. When I sense this feeling coming, I deal with it by adapting and trying my best to make new friends. Through my experience, I have found that Churchill’s saying is true. Fear only goes as far as you let it go. You have two options for coping with your fear: you can avoid the fear or you can overcome it. If you learn to face your fears without letting them get to you, there is nothing that will scare you away from achieving your dreams.
They say, “All wounds heal with time….just that some leave scars and some leave scary reminiscences”. But all these condolences and empathy fall short in front of the strong whirlwind of emotions of the satanic heart. The gigantic emotional vacuum of strong devilish pessimism tends to engulf any miniscule trace of optimism….dragging one to deepest fathoms of dark and scary cynicism….People fear change because it pushes them out of their comfort zone. One of the greatest fears in the world is the fear of the unknown. Although fear can create a large amount of energy in a person, you can choose to use that energy in a positive manner and take control of the situation. Focus on your convictions; be confident in your abilities and be proud of the work that you do. Do not allow insecurities to damage your focus. Only you can set your moral compass.
Believe me the creepy thought of “I am nothing….I am non-existent”, is a mammoth threat to any individual’s survival. Make an effort to see change as an opportunity to grow in a different direction and develop new strengths and insights regardless of external influences.
Although it is easier to react negatively and feel inadequate and to listen to negative comments from others, you have the power to change your perspective and so will your attitude change. Your new attitude will become contagious and you will have a positive influence on those around you…
Just saying “LET GO” doesn’t help…..unless one is really convinced that he/she wants to and learns to stop holding onto the PAIN and count on something more fruitful, promising and worthwhile…..
This doesn’t mean he/she starts believing and loving again…..it doesn’t even mean that he/she starts trusting others again and acknowledging the need of trust or love and LIFE again…..That’s because counting or trying to confide one’s innermost feelings seems to be the biggest hitch, because then one starts looking at every second person as a harmful and detrimental person….Ironical….isn’t it…?
It just means that he/she firstly learns how to forgive and love his/her own self…..like a mother caressing her child awoken screamingly from a nightmare….”It’s OK, it was just a bad dream, see I am here, no one will hurt you…..shhhhh……I am here, beside you…..everything will be ALL RIGHT…..I love you, you know that….I won’t let anyone harm you…..I am here….try sleep again…”