I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.

Strip away the rotten flesh, and dress it with clean bandages. I will not lose the leg. I will be healed. He makes a crown for my head with His hair. I drink the water the Father has given me. The Holy Spirit is with me. I bless him and he roosts on my head as a white dove.

He is the God of my salvation. I am His child, made clean in the blood of the Lamb. He will direct my steps. He has numbered my days. His outstretched hand is above me, below me, around me, guiding me and helping me. He loves me!

I welcome you, Lord! My heart rejoices in You! You are the God of my salvation. My heart is not troubled, and I will not stumble. He places my feet on the rock. He shows me the way. My lamp shines brightly for Him, because of Him. The enemy will not find me, because I will be with my God! My father will not abandon me.

The wedding feast of the Lamb has come! How my heart rejoices that You would shine Your face upon me, your servant. Forgive me, Lord, as I turn from my sin back to You.

You are my father, and I am your daughter. I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.

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Important

I wanted to share these two dreams I had in the last week or so. I hope it will bless someone, or speak to them. But I just wanted to get it out there. Not meant to make anyone feel afraid or judged. I just needed to post it.

 

  • My friend was at the gate of our house. She pushed open the gate, invited herself in and parked the car. She sat outside on the paving. I watched from inside the house, feeling very upset that she had just did that. She had no respect for me, and didn’t care about anything but herself. So, I left her there, not wanting to have a fight. I wanted to tell her to go away, but walked away, ignoring it. There was a wedding happening that day. I left her there when I went to the wedding. But as I got to the church, I felt I had to go back for her. When I came back to the house, she wasn’t there anymore, but this man sat in her place. I’ve known him since childhood. I was surprised, but so happy to see him. I told him to come with me, and we returned to the wedding.

 

  • I was with my fiance, and wanted to go to the bathroom. But instead of a window in the bathroom, there was a door. And outside ‘working’ was a man with bright red hair who I didn’t know. He looked at me, and I felt afraid. I closed the door and hid, hoping that he would leave me alone. But he came in, and stood before me. He grabbed hold of my neck, wanting to hurt me. I called out to my father. I knew he would help me. The man was angry, but fled and I was saved. No one who lived or worked in the house knew who he was. And no one could find him after. He had disappeared from the house. But he wasn’t gone.

 

Romans 10:13

for, Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.

(Joel 2:32, Acts 2:21)

 

  • Children, it’s time to return home. Your father is waiting for you. The sun is setting, and it will be dark soon.

Week 1 September Story-a-Day

storyadaysep2017

 

When I was born…

“When I was born,” I repeated. He walked around the table, never standing still for very long. My mind was blank. All I could focus on was the increasing tightness in my throat. He stopped and stared. “I was given away. That’s all I know.”

“So, you don’t know who your real parents are?”

“No.”

Silence filled the room as he came to stand next to me, towering over me making me feel more uneasy.

“How did you know to sing to the dragon?”

“I didn’t, sir.” He stopped and raised his eyebrow. I don’t think he believed me. “I just wanted to live.”

 

The problem with going through life one day at a time, each in order…

The problem with going through life one day at a time, each in order is that my life is very boring. I get up, I eat breakfast (always sage pork sausage and toast) and get to work. I gather all the washing that needs to get done for the day from everyone in my area, and lug the heavy baskets back home, where I dunk everything into the large bath to start washing. The only time I deviate is when some nobleman’s maid gives me a linen shirt stained with wine. I hang everything up to dry in my house and backyard, before folding it all and delivering it back to the homes it came from. I’ve accidentally given the garments to the wrong families, but for whatever reason it’s always overlooked. And by overlooked, I mean I don’t get any sausages to eat for a few days. I don’t understand my life, or the endless loop of sausages and laundry.

I don’t understand.

 

She could hear seagulls crying. Or were they laughing? – The sunsets were dazzling…

The beach was mostly empty, save for a lone couple huddled together near the water. With each wave that reached up to greet them, the girl screamed and they would burst into laughter. She walked off until the laughing was drowned out by the breaking of the waves and the song of the seagulls congregated on the rocks. The sunsets were dazzling here, but it was cloudy that afternoon. Masking the time behind the grey dreary curtain. She could have been there a few minutes, or hours. She wasn’t sure anymore. The wind just ushered in more of the same.

The seagulls’ cries were becoming louder. Melody stopped. Or were they laughing at her?

The seagulls went quiet. She walked forward, and their cries came back to life like someone was playing with the volume. She stopped, they stopped. She continued, they laughed.

She looked around. She was alone. It was as if the couple from before never existed. Maybe they didn’t. Maybe it had always just been her. She couldn’t be sure anymore. It was difficult to think sometimes. Everything was… fuzzy. But the seagulls. They were there. Really there.

Melody picked up one of the many smooth rocks that littered the sand. Her father never had a son, so he had to teach her everything. She was never any good at fishing or fixing engines, but she could throw rocks, and make them skip over the water far longer than her father ever could.

She held out her arm, closing one eye before she threw it. The rock skid over the water seven times, until it reached the rock. The flock flew up, making a white mark on the sky. Then they came after her. She tripped and landed face first in the sand. Melody covered her head, trying to protect herself from the birds.

But nothing happened. She waited a little longer, before she lifted her head.

Before her stood a seagull. He threw down her rock before flying off.

They started laughing again.

 

It was the smell that caught my attention first…

It was the smell that caught my attention first. I stopped, holding my nose, as I turned to dumpster where it was coming from. It was different from sour rotting food, but not the same as rotting meat. It couldn’t have been anything from the restaurant it stood against. I couldn’t walk away.

I sucked in my breath, trying to make myself brave for what was to come. As I pushed back the lid to look inside, I saw two tiny eyes.

My stomach knotted as I reached in, and the small dog coward from my hands. I held out my fingers to him, waiting patiently for him to calm down so that I could pick him up. The smell made my eyes water, but I wouldn’t leave him there.

I thought he would never step forward and that I would have to stand there all night, but he came closer. I quickly pulled off my jacket to wrap around him.

I hurried to my car, where my husband was waiting.

“I thought something had happened to you,” he said as I opened the door. His first reaction was to hold his nose and recoil from the shivering pile on my lap.

“I know. He needs our help.”

He nodded. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow then.”

September 2017 StoryaDay

I decided to join the Story-a-Day challenge this month. I’ve been meaning to try it out for so long, so it’s now or never.

storyadaysep2017

I’m working on the first week’s prompts still, so I’ll post them all together tomorrow. Here’s the list. (If you want to join, I encourage you to click on the picture above to sign up to receive the prompts!)

Week 1:

  1. “When I was born…”
  2. The problem with going through life one day at a time, each in order…
  3. She could hear seagulls crying. Or were they laughing?
  4. The sunsets were dazzling…
  5. It was the smell that caught my attention first…

 

I’m still not sure on a word count, so I don’t think I’m going to stick to one. I’ll see where the prompts take me.

An experiment gone awry

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

This week’s photo prompt is provided by artycaptures.wordpress.com.


An experiment gone awry

Molly always had trouble sleeping. She got into the habit of browsing online when she couldn’t rest, and more recently scrolling through Buzzfeed to do pointless quizzes until she was tired enough to try and sleep again.

One night she stumbled upon an interesting article. Inspired, she jotted down the ingredients and their measurements for a mug cake. It was time for experimenting.

Her roommate, an unnecessarily uptight teacher with a secret love of baking, was luckily asleep on the couch. Molly closed the kitchen’s door. Hopefully Blair wouldn’t notice anything missing. She was always so observant.

She mixed it all together, excited to taste the chocolate treat the recipe promised. Three minutes later, Molly opened the microwave’s door and was horrified.

It looked nothing like the pictures! She must have gotten something wrong. With a cloth, she took out the mug with its overflowing lave-like chocolate mix. Molly got a fright as Blair’s dishevelled form stood behind her.

“My foot!”

“Blair! I’m so sorry.”

It was a funny story to tell the ER nurses.


(175 words)

I had trouble with the word limit on this one. It was such a fun prompt!

Pat Bill Tandem

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

FFfAW

Week of 08-08


Pat Bill Tandem

“Slow down!”

“It’s not my fault that you have little legs, Pat.”

“It is. You have all of the good genes.”

“You’re older than me!”

“That’s not my fault.”

“How can you blame me then?”

Muscles are burning. No one needs this. “Why are we doing this?”

“I wanted you to use your little legs for once and do something active.”

“Mom made you do it, didn’t she?”

“Yep.”

Breathless. He’s breathless too. Here comes another hill. This is it- I’m actually dying. Tomb stone will read: Here lies fat Pat. He never made it up that hill. It burns. “How much?”

“Ten dollars.”

At least we freestyle down. Bill breaks sharply, almost sending me flying into his sweaty back. “We’re done. How do you feel?”

Tired. Sweaty. Chaffed. Thirsty. I catch my breath after a while. “You know what? I don’t actually feel that terrible. It was pretty good.”

Bill smiles and we let the old bike fall onto the grass. “Never again?”

“Never again.”

We do this every Sunday. I hate it.


(174 words)

 

Old Betty

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Week of 07-25

https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Louise with The Storyteller’s Abode.


Old Betty

Dad inherited a boat. Grandpa Nick had passed away and left my father his beloved boat- his Betty.

Betty had ever worked; it just sat in grandpa’s garage, and every Saturday he and Nan would take a bottle of wine and sit on their lawn chairs imagining that they were out at sea. It was his dream.

Dad took Betty out to the water, hoping it would somehow ‘convince’ the old thing to come to life. I went out with him every afternoon. He would walk up and down and talk to the boat. He thought I was there to think what I was to do with my life. I was only there to jot down everything he did to use in a story- my secret passion.

One day we stopped going, and old Betty sat in the backyard never to be enjoyed again.

But I wouldn’t let my dream become like Betty. I still go out to that spot by the water to write.


(165 words)

I’ve been AWOL from my blog for some time. I got engaged since being gone and I’ve been riding that high for a while. But back to writing now.