Showing posts with label Marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marriage. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Hex of the VooDoo Witch - "The Gray Hair Curse" - Original story

~Hex of the Voodoo Witch~
"The Gray Hair Curse"
Original Story written by:
Stacey L. Bolin
copyright: October 21, 2013
 
 
 
 
 
Disclaimer:
Please note that the story below is for mature
readers as it contains explicit material of a sexual nature and references alcohol use.
 
 
A couple, married in their early twenties, stood before friends and family and confessed their love for one another until death did them part. She was a buxom beauty with long auburn hair, sheer beauty, flawless skin and a toned body; he was tall and tan with dark chestnut colored hair and was as handsome and as strong as any man could be. Over the years they built their lives together and did their best to follow the most traditional life plan and did just about everything their parents and their grandparents had done - Marry, purchase a home, get a car, and plan for having a family of their own. One by one over four years they acquired all of the necessary material items while at the same time - a handsome son and two beautiful girls had been created and brought into the world. It was a home filled with love and built on trust and respect.

When their children began arriving into their teen years and early twenties, this married couple found a new past time to their days spent together. Dinners out alone, long afternoon naps, and weekends filled with football and great food. They had many friends and acquaintances and often times their kids still found the time to gather together with mom and dad, and everyone and make a great time out of it. Yet along the way, as most couples do, their age began to greet them in the mirror each morning - a wrinkle here and wrinkle there and few pounds here and a few pounds there. For her, the gray came quickly, for him – his chestnut hair was still as rich in its color as the day they married.

Knowing that it was important to be together as they transitioned through each stage of marriage, the wife also realized the importance of having time away from one another. She had always suggested that her husband go out with the guys, do something with the guys and be just one of the guys. She enjoyed his company but she also enjoyed the house to herself which was sometimes hard to do, in their home, of 4.5 people instead of 5, since their oldest son spent more time with his girlfriend than at home,

It was mid-October when her husband finally decided to take his wife's advice after 20 years of marriage, and went out with the guys on a Saturday night to the local sports bar and grill located on the town dock that they lived in. He wore is best blue jeans and a nice shirt, yet with very limited girth, but he wore it just the same. He pulled on his boots and put on an old ball cap, kissed his wife good-bye and headed out the door. She was relieved that he finally decided to go and do something for himself, while at the same time she was already missing his company, but filled her small bout with loneliness with movies, popcorn and pop. During a commercial that was talking about families - she stopped to wonder what the men might be doing with their new found guy time - watching football - Drinking beer - Having their ego's stroked by female patrons? - Probably all of the above. With that she paid it never a thought again.

The owners of the bar and grill knew just want to do to create an atmosphere that would have you losing all sense of time.  There were dozens of 38" LCD thin screened televisions perfectly placed all around the rather dimly lit bar, so not to miss any golden sports moments. The moment they entered the building there was a feeling that was overwhelming, and enticing at the same time. The music in the room was a familiar tone that all the men remembered during their High School days in the 80’s. The song was “It’s a dead man’s party” and was being performed by a no name band called the – The Bone Keepers.  There where various Halloween decorations of bats hanging from the ceiling and black and orange garland that had been braided with purple lights, wrapped every pole and railing in the place. The sounds of the various bar glasses hitting together to be filled, with that perfect drink or two, was the trigger the men needed to get their night underway. The air was drenched in a stench of perfume, cologne, and alcohol and they marveled at the fact that there wasn't a kid or crying baby in the place. Being without family they bellied up to the bar and did their best to flirt with any waitress, or female species that would make eye contact. It was their guy’s night and there were no girlfriends or wives to snap at them for taking in an eye full of a nice pair of boobs. They laughed and cut up while eating all the appetizers they wanted and relished in the thought that they didn't have to share them with their wives and children, and to top it off – the frosty mugs of beer just kept on coming and they just kept on drinking without a care in the world. The biggest surprise was  the endless  special of Red Devil Tequila shots now and then, that were always on the house when the waitress brought them to their group. With each shot, the men lost their ability to think of home or anything but the enticing want to be wild and crazy. To them there was only one word to describe their night so far - Heaven.

As the men consumed the alcohol of bravery, the men who were single had no problems luring women to their section of the bar. The women would laugh and rub up against them trying to be the girl chosen to hang with them for the night, but the men who were married began to feel the effects of life known as old age. Suddenly what had been just a guy’s night began to feel like a single man’s night out in the military accompanied by some one's dad that was there to supervise the choices they made and/or be the designated driver.

As the night grew later and later, All but one of the married men found some strategic way to excuse themselves to return home, without looking like their wives had them wrapped around their finger. The only one who stayed was the one who had never gone out with the guys since his wedding day. He liked that the place helped him forget all of his responsibilities that he had forged over the years.

Occasionally women would smile and say hello to him as they passed by, while others would stop and engage in small talk that would fall into a twisted form of playful teen age banter that always became sexual.  His ego was fully charged when he caught the attention of a tall woman with curves that never ended and silky hair that harbored an illusion that it was heavenly rays of sunlight. He was smitten with her and welcomed the small talk and eye contact that cleverly turned into physical touches and suggestive questioning on what they enjoyed sexually. Deep down he knew what he was doing, but the excitement of it all placed him in a position that at any point could be a costly mistake. As they got closer the talk became whispering within each other ears, until a mysterious woman graced his attention that immediately brought the coddling to an abrupt halt. She wore a long gown of multiple exotic colors and a veiled black hat that topped her long curly red hair. Her long beautiful nails were painted a blood red that had the sheen of Patton leather. As she touched his face and slowly ran her fingernails down the back of his neck her deep green eyes, looked thought his eyes and down into the depths of his soul making his body feel paralyzed, while without any acknowledgement to the curvaceous woman - the mysterious lady waved her away like fly buzzing around a dead rodent that was more of a nuisance and needed to be squashed.

She spoke to him in a low sultry southern accent, her skin was tight and tan and her lips were full and sensual and wore the color of blood red wine. He felt a magical sensation with her near and never gave the other women a second thought. She asked why a married man would place himself in a situation filled with great sexual temptation, to which he replied, while wearing a look of confusion, “I love how it makes me feel young again.”

She continued to look deeply into his eyes that made him feel an urgency to share with her how he was struggling with the sensation that half of him wanted to enjoy the feeling of something new, something exciting, but wanted it to be nothing more than a great sexual experience with the woman without a name just a label of a wife for a night. However the trusting, faithful side of him knew that he had a true love that had been left behind in the home they made together and she was his wife for life.

She told him that she sensed great destruction if he chose the path of poison and that keeping such feelings and tempting interactions, concealed from his wife, would cause him and those around him great distress.

It was at that point he went from intrigued to irritate and he laughed at her as his eyes revealed the label of crazy that he had now placed upon her. He believed his wife had put this woman up to this.

She glared at him and without hesitation confronted him and his labeling and shared with him that if his wishes were to feel like a young man of 25 again and wanted to take comfort in the arms of another - she could grant his wishes and he could have it all for a price and his wife would never find out unless he told her the truth.

When asked what the price would be, still believing she was a drunken wacko preaching magical powers that were only there because of the alcohol that made her brain believe this. She slowly reached up to the top of his head and pulled one strand of his hair from his scalp. She placed the hair and its root into a silk scarf in her hand and sprinkled a sparkling powder over it as she spoke in a deep throaty chant. She then folded the scarf into what looked like a powder puff and then asked him again if his wishes really were to feel like a young man of 25 again and engage in an intense sexual affair that his wife would never find out about - unless he told her the truth.

 

He sat there waiting for some candid camera gotcha moment to suddenly spring out of nowhere with his wife leading the charge yelling – Surprise!

He turned to her and said in a smart ass voice, trying to call her bluff, “Sure why not, you only live once.” It wasn’t until after he said yes and many months later, did he learn the price he would pay for his choice to be wanted by women, and enjoy other women and his wife would never know or be hurt by his needs to feel young again.

Her eyes began to glow blinding neon green, blood bubbled in the palm of her hand where the sack of hair and powder were. She stood up and as she chanted in a mysterious language and padded the sack on his head until she had touched every piece of hair. He could feel the electric energy of his youthful ness that he once had in the years of his mid-twenties fill every ounce of his body. Without any hesitation, and never asking what the price would be, he went over to the curvaceous blond, whispered in her ear, and then they both left the building.  He left his friends at the bar and a belief that if she was a true witch with the powers to make a person’s desires come true, then he was going to try his new wish out on the curvaceous blond that had been ready to take their touching to another level. 

As they stood outside the bar, he told his new wife for a night that he needed to call home and check on his mother, that was staying with him on a vacation, and that she would needed to stay quiet so that his mother wouldn’t be upset that he chose to be with a lady friend instead of going home.  In his youthful mind he was certain that it was important that he tell his wife what he thought she’d want to hear, and he wasn’t about to let her learn any different. It was then he decided that his story would be that he was going to stay with one of the guys, because he had had too much to drink and didn’t want to take a chance on driving. It sounded truthful – she’d believe him.

The phone rang three times before his wife realized that the ringing was real, not in the dream she was having after falling asleep three hours earlier on the couch.

“Hello?”

“Hi Hon, your right . . . guys night out was just want I needed.” He found it hard to hide the tone in his voice that he was about to lie to his one true love.

“So I bet you all watched football and drank beer?” she said with excitement that she got to hear his voice that didn’t sound stressed or tired.

His lady friend pressed herself against him kissing his neck as she ran her hands up and down his body while he spoke on the phone. He did his best to Take long controlled breaths as he replied, “Yes, but as for the beer, I think I over did it so I’m going to stay here at one of the guys places.” His hair line across his temples began to itch.

“Hon, we only live a couple miles away . . . I can call you a cab or come and get you if you’d like.”

“No, that’s OK. I’m fine and we’re going to play some cards, maybe I could win some cash for a nice dinner out, just you and I.  How does that sound?” The itching began to feel hot and he wondered if maybe he was having an allergic reaction to the crazy voodoo wannabe’s flour head chant.

“Are you sure you’re OK? You didn’t get yourself in trouble? You are starting to sound funny.”

“Just having fun,” his voice squeaked out in a high pitch. “Gotta go, were leaving now. Love ya.”

In a sweet trusting and tired voice she replied, “I love you too. Sweet dreams.”

***

To his new found pleasure goddess music was a must when wanting good sex to be great sex. She hit the button on the room radio and was thrilled to think that it was one of her favorite groups – Depeche Mode, performing her favorite song to get down and dirty to, “Strange Love.” The hotel room was a mess. Clothes, underwear, shoes, pillows, sheets and blankets etc., were strewn everywhere as the curvaceous blonde took him over and over again in every square inch of the hotel room – including on their balcony where she wanted to introduce him to the intense sexual feeling that builds inside of a person when mixed with the notion of being caught having getting it on in public. He never once thought of his life as a father, a husband with a mortgage and his family or the wife that had always loved and trusted him for more than a decade. All he could feel was the sexual connect of their bodies becoming one and the ability to go on and on for hours and hours until their hot passionate love making would have them drop with sheer exhaustion to allow them to rest until the next waking round.  

The next morning when he had awaken, he sat up on the bed and looked around the room at the mess that he and his unknown partner had made. A note written on hotel stationary, on the pillow next to him read, “You little devil - thanks for a great night of great sex. If you're ever in the mood to screw around my numbers on the back of this note.”

He got himself up and quickly did his best to straighten the room. Took a shower to wash the smell of the other woman off him, got dressed and out the door he went. As he sat in the car, he toyed with the idea of whether to call his wife or just show up. He decided that a stop at the market for a dozen roses and a bear claw would surprise her – he was right.

She was so happy to see him when he walked into the house and even more excited when she had seen the gifts he had with him. As he turned around to sit down and take off his boots, his wife noticed something on temple of his head.

“Hon? What’s the grayish spot?” she said as she leaned in closer to get a better look. “Well, well, you’ve got few gray hairs on that head of yours, but don’t worry sweetness; I’ve got a whole head full, but that’s why I made friends with a hair dresser that can take that gray away and keep me looking good for you. It’s just part of the deal in life when we start to get old and slow down.”

“What deal?” he said shocked, while wondering what would make her think that it was all part of a deal.

“Maybe next time you and your lady of the night will go to bed earlier.” She remarked with a witty sound of humor in her voice. “Lying causes stress and will also make your hair gray.” Then she laughed and went into the kitchen to heat up the bear claw and get another cup of coffee.

He sat in the chair, battling the good and bad of whether to confess to his wife about what he had done the night before or too just pretend it never happened.

As days grew into weeks, he found himself doing all he could to cover up what had happened in the bar and grill that night. The problem he had was controlling the occasional itch that he would get with each time he spoke about that night, but as bad as it would get, he’d change his shampoo’s and get frequent haircuts hoping it would stop. A first he found it easy to say and do all he could to keep the truth from being told. He did his best to keep his wife happy both in and out of the bedroom, yet his youthful feeling desires were become more than his wife wanted and many a nights he would go to bed frustrated for the need for sexual pleasure. His friends, that had also seen him leave that night swore to never tell his wife that he had spent the night with another woman.

He had kept the unknown woman’s note at work and decided that it was time to give her a call. They agreed that one Friday he would get out of work early and they would meet at the Holiday Inn Express that was just on the other side of town. When the day had finally come for their sexual encounter again, he noticed something he had not before. She didn’t appear to be as firm and curvaceous as he had remembered. And her hair appeared dull and dry. Her Maybe she was sick or coming down with something. Her explanation was that she was getting older and noticed over the past month she was going gray, so she decided it was time to color her hair if she wanted to stay blonde. She still had the want to have sex with him, but was content with just keeping the moment simple and slow, no crazy positions, and doing it once was great - twice without a break was pushing it. He just couldn’t understand what had happened to his wild woman of the night. He decided then, it would be the last time they would get together, but for some reason he just couldn’t get himself to throw her number away, as for him it was like a memento that reminded him of a time when

By late spring of the follow year, he had noticed that his wife was looking more youthful, had more energy, she had the look that she had when they had first met. The most puzzling was she was not going out have her hair done anymore to cover up the gray, while his head was now almost 65% covered in gray hair and his bones began to feel arthritic and his energy level kept going down. He was only 47, but that youthful feeling that he enjoyed for those few short weeks, had gone from wild and wonderful to the extreme opposite that made him feel his was twice as old as he was.  

“Maybe if I went back to the Voodoo woman at the bar, she’d grant me another dose of young stud energy.” He though as he made his way home from work.

When he arrived home, he was shocked to find his wife learning a twerking move that their younger daughters were making fun of after watching the MTV awards. He couldn’t help but notice how youthful his wife looked and how soft and silky her hair appeared. He could feel himself falling in love all over again with her.

“Certainly she had had her hair done, you can’t go from gray to your natural hair color – it just isn’t possible.” he pondered.

“Hey Dad!” exclaimed their oldest daughter, “Did mom tell you that big brother is in town and he’s taking us to the bar and grill on the docks downtown for dinner tonight.”

He stood still for a moment remembering what had happened to him, and knew this could be his once chance to get a second dose of youth.

***

As they sat at a table just a few short feet from the bar, he noticed that the bartender was trying to get his attention.

“Excuse me for a moment everyone, I need to get some water.”

He walked up to the bar and did his best to scan the room without bring any attention upon him and trigger his family to questioning what his odd behavior was all about.

“Hey man, how are you doing? You never came back, did you and that hot blonde get to make it or what?” he said sounding more and more like a gossip greedy bartender.

“Ah, no, we didn’t.”

 “Wow, another lie. I think I saw another gray hair add itself to you head. I hear that she looks like shit and looks like she is 100 years old.  Did you do what the Voodoo Witch told you to do? Or did you choose option B. which was - you and anyone else would pay dearly for any lies about what happened?”

“No she never said what the payment was.”

“She tried to, but you had only one thing on the brain and one thing only. She told me after you left that she hoped when the first signs of the gray hair began to show, you would come back to learn what you could do to reverse it.”

“You mean this old man looking hair and face and the aching bones would have stayed the way she made me that night - sexually energized and young again?”

“Yeah, but you were thinking with the wrong head. I bet if I had only once guess, that women at the table with you with the beautiful skin and long silky red hair is your wife?”

“What about it?”

“If you had been honest with how you were feeling about aging, you wouldn’t be in your rapidly aging old man body your in now.” The bartender said with a laugh, “All you had to do was tell your wife the truth AND you could have been a stud whose wife would never find out about you getting it on with a new lady every night and with the energy you had when you left here – you could have accomplished it.”

“So if I just start telling the truth, then all will reverse?” He said hopeful.

“No. your honesty should have been from the very start. You would have told your wife that some Voodoo witch doctor cast a spell on your and that you would be forever young feeling and youthful with an endless sex drive. All you had to say was that. Then anything more your wife would have laughed away as a joking passive aggressive personality. But you lied from the start, so now everyone, including yourself, involved in the lies you told to hide the truth suffer the same fate as you and your once hot wife for a night.

“So what now?” he questioned, as the reality of the choices that he had made were the reasons behind his gray hair and body pain. “We would now become an old men and women faster than I would have if I had never met that mysterious witch woman that night?”

“You know man . . . I have to tell you one other thing.  Because of your all the big lies, little lies and occasional white lies you told your wife – she will forever reap the benefits of what you once had – youthfulness, great skin, healthy body and bones, and she knows the truth about who and what you have done, but does not react as she know you have given her a greater gift – the ability to be seen by others and as a loving beautiful wife that once had a truth worthy, honest husband that couldn’t handle the idea of getting older and made a deal with the devil to give up his family for the life of a youthful man of 25 with a great body at the age you are now - 47 right? What a screw up . . . this would have been for as long as you live.

“So how do you know so much about my life?” he said in a smart ass tone of voice.

“My wife and I own this bar.”

“Yeah and?”

“Didn’t you read the name on the door?”

“NO!”

“Devils Bar and Grill – My wife does the Voodoo and the devil takes the souls when the magic is over.”

“If she’s the Voodoo witch then who is the Devil? I don’t seem him.” He said in disbelief of what was being told to him.

“You know, I never introduced myself to you the last time you were here. Please accept my sincere apologies, the name is Lou. S. Cifer, owner and operator of this crazy join.”

“Wow your name sounds like Lucifer the fallen angel, when you say it fast.”

The bartender smiled his devilish grin.
_______________________________________________________________________
 
Music referenced in this story:
 Oingo Boingo - It's a dead man's party
 
Depeche Mode - Strange Love
 

Monday, October 21, 2013

~ Hex of the Voodoo Witch ~ "The Gray Hair Curse" - An Original Spooky Story

I can't wait to share my next original spooky thriller with everyone one. We have gotten the edits back and once again - there is an interest. Join me tomorrow for another original thriller.





~ HEX of the VOODOO WITCH~
"The Gray Hair Curse"
 
Sometimes a wish come true...
could be your worst nightmare
 
Original Story written by:
Stacey L. Bolin
 
Copyright October 20, 2013

Thursday, February 7, 2013

What's Really in a Valentine...

 

 

 

Wow, so I learned a little something about the Internet. You have to maintain the amount of space used on a blog that is free. I had too many pictures and it wouldn’t let me post this, as I had pictures of hearts on this page. So here it is two days late and only one heart - mabye next time. The story I wrote in my blog was rather emotional to write, so I needed some musical inspiration to help me, there is a link under the title.

***

Are you one of those people who begin to panic when you realize that a holiday or special day is indicated on the calendar...for example - grandparents day, secretaries days, an anniversary or heck how about national marshmallow day...ha-ha OK, I just added the marshmallow day, but who knows it could be on the calendar somewhere in the world. Well here it is, another Tuesday in a week. A day that isn't the beginning of a week, it isn't the middle of the week or a day before a weekend begins. It's just a Tuesday, but for me, I woke to a question that was asked of me last week by my younger son, and decided to make this a Topic Tuesday. I'm hearing you, "Of course Stacey, why wouldn't you?"

As many of you know I had been working a very very temporary job doing inventory preps to get ready for a big inventory for a store here in town. I even got my older son a job assisting with the inventory as well. Before he and I left for work late Monday afternoon, my husband and younger son had mentioned that they were going out for dinner, something they don't do often, and I like to encourage that they do more often than not. Adding my charming witty and joking way to their plans, I made the comment, "That's great you guys can ponder what to get me for Valentine’s Day," that was followed by my best Madonna strike-a-pose and extra cheesy, try to be a hot chick, smile. (You had to be there to get the full comedic effect) He knew I was being funny, but the joke was on me.

After work, we joined my husband and younger son, who were watching television, jumping between the movie "Lethal Weapon 2" and an old sitcom of "Two and a Half Men." Yes, the men of my home are professional channel jockeys. Smile. Out of the blue as they hopped between their shows of choice, my younger son turned around in his chair and with a serious tone to his voice asked me what I wanted for Valentine’s Day. I was rendered speechless at first as my immediate thoughts were that he took my comment seriously before I left.

Now I wanted to answer like a kid that was just asked what he wanted for Christmas, but I chose not to and I'll explain why.  Rather than ramble off my list of list of what I'd love to receive for Valentines, I simply replied - "Something that makes you feel good and comes from the loving feeling within your heart - I will adore. I don't want to have to tell you want makes me happy.”

 To me Valentines is more than just candy hearts, flowers, cards, and jewelry Etc. Valentines is a feeling inside you that is filled with many levels of love and emotions. (HOLY CRAP! LOL – I’m Laughing out loud to myself, I can’t believe I just wrote that answer, and my cat is looking at me as if I am so beneath her ha-ha). It’s taken me 25+ years to realize the real meaning behind Valentine’s Day.  My confusion started as an unrealistic day dreamer kid in elementary school. We had the typical Valentines parties where you'd make this heart shaped pouch while dreaming/worrying if it would hold thousands of your Valentines from your school mates. (My elementary school didn’t even have 400 students in the school.)

They were always made out of paper doilies in red and white that you had to glue together with a paste that some student in the class always was caught eating. The glue would crack when it dried causing anything you made to fall apart in your hands and the teacher would end up using staples to hold the dang thing together. I did my damnedest to see that every available decoration was on my heart pouch to attract people to give me a Valentine, but no matter how hard I tried to make my pouch stand out, I was always the Charlie Brown of the class, but thank goodness I never got a rock. Smile.

A perfect example of having ones extreme daydreams crushed is a math problem that never has the same answer twice. If we had 25 kids in a class, 8 would put my name on their Valentines and usually two would say, I would have given you a Valentine, but I ate it on the bus on the way to school. As I grew through the years, Feb 14th, became just a day filled with all the store heart shaped propaganda and fine cut diamonds that put you in a trance as you gazed upon them displayed in perfectly illuminated cases on black velvet. Oh, oh, and we must not forget those dang heart shaped chocolate filled boxes that made you feel that if you didn’t get one of those, you were a no body. Now all those things are nice, but being a single young lady just after high school, my Valentine dream was nothing that came in a box, however I would have still taken it if it had been drenched in Hershey’s melted chocolate, cherries and whipped cream…..phew….is it getting hot in here?

I guess I should share with you what’s got me feeling rather warm, but my story is that it is the wood stove – that’s my story and I’m sticking to it, but for my readers… lean in close to your computer - I’m going to share a secret with you about my unrealistic thinking; it’s just you reading this right? Check to be sure that nobody is looking over your shoulder at work? Kids are watching Barney?  OK, here it goes,  I lived with the hopes that maybe one day I'd be whisked away like some lucky golden skinned girl with long locks (which I have never looked like in my life) in a romance novel that just had her earth shook by some handsome guy riding a big black horse on the beach. He extends his hand down, and of course I grab it (Come on ladies feel yourselves grabbing his hand it’s OK, it’s just a hand.) and he pulls me on his horse with him and we go riding into the sunset. I’ll leave the rest for your imagination. I don’t want to be accused of writing a porn script. *wink*

Well needless to say, when I did leave near beaches, no pets were allowed. Dang the bad luck. Now when I got married, for the first three years I tried to make Valentines something extra special, but my ability to do so always ended up like a gas covered paper airplane landing on a flaming barbecue. (I see now that I was trying to hard then) I learned that over the year I found that making a cake and card got the job done. (Obviously I didn’t try as hard after) I know sad to refer to it as a job. Stick with me now, as Ricky would say on I love Lucy – Lucy you have some esplainin’ to do. So let me share a story with you to esplain’. (I tried to write the word as if Ricky Ricardo was saying it in person.)
 The Woman with the Broken Heart
AKA: Wilted Flowers
written by: Stacey L. Bolin 2/6/2013

A woman had made the mistake of letting a family members kind gesture burrow a negative hole in her heart on beautiful sunny Valentine’s Day in the early 90’s. She had always had serious, and I mean very serious issues, with sneaky people who try to take advantage of nice people. Many years ago she stood idly by as she watched this happen to her husband time and time again, because when she would express her distrust for someone, she was accused trying to be a controling untrusting bitch. She had been a stay at home mom with a two year old son and another one on the way, so to say that she wasn’t emotional was an understatement.
She had made a cake and had all the fancy icing with cinnamon hearts, she had gotten her husband and son cards and had a special dinner made waiting hot in the oven. All day long like she felt like a kid in a candy store - waiting anxiously for a card, a phone call filled with loving words, flowers delivered to her home, something, but knowing money was tight and her husband wasn’t the spontaneous romantic type, she also told herself not to get her heart set on anything like this. She was very disappointed when the day slowly turned to night and her husband had come home with only a story to tell her about his day at work. After dinner they sat in the living room and talked. He was so proud of something he had done that she could see he was busting at the seams to tell someone. She had hoped what he had to say would reveal a card with his hand penned words of his love for her. As the words to his story grew long with explanation, she felt a sense of panic being to consume her.

He had always been a person that loved to do good deeds for people. He had a kind and gentle heart, which is just one of many reasons why she fell in love with him. But this one time was when she realized that even the ones she loved could hurt her without even realizing it and to this day, he never understood how something so simple could hurt her so deeply.

He went on to tell her a story about how he made somebody smile, never realizing that he had fallen victim to another person’s sneaky verbal manipulation. A lady who was a secretary in the office for the company he worked for was always sharing her personal stories with him and decided to make him feel sorry for her. She went on and on about how her boyfriend was not attentive to her, didn’t make her feel good, and he’d never given her flowers. She knew perfectly well what she was doing, and with him being a nice guy, he never realized that the kind gesture that he was about to extend would haunt him for years to come. On his way back from a job, he stopped at a vendor that had five gallon buckets, displayed in a 7-11 parking lot, on the corner of Woodmore and Church Road, which were filled with flower arrangements. It was at that moment he picked up a bouquet handed over his last seven dollars and headed back to the office.
As her husband told his tale, she felt like she had just been slapped by a strong hand wearing a razor covered glove. She was having a hard time containing the lump that was rapidly growing in her throat as he went on to describe how beautiful the rose, in the center of the arrangement was. She felt her heart begin to pound and just wanted to run out of the room, but found the ability to ask – “Where were her Valentines flowers?” to which he replied innocently – I didn’t have enough money for two. She melted into a pool of tears, something that he had never seen her do. He had no idea that he had completely broken her heart. He tried to cover it by saying that he had forgot it was Valentines, as he knelt before her while she sat in her chair. It was too late, the damage had been done. People for years told her to let it go, forget about it. So let me ask you men and women out there, if you had been in this situation, the one who’s significant other remembered another, but not you?  Would you just forget the hurt you felt?  Could you forget, or would you just tell yourself some lame excuse? Would you address the other person who had been praying on your loved one?  Unfortunately during that time she was non-confrontational and taught herself how to live with a fear she had now believed to be true. The fear of being forgotten, by the one she loves the most, which haunted her with every day closer to Valentine’s.  

Over the years she was able to slowly glue the pieces of her broken heart back together and needless to say, his flowers we’re not welcome in their home for many years. It wasn’t until August of 2012, when they both fully understood why she had reacted in the way that she did and that her husband never knew of the sexual assault that had happened to her four months before they met.
 
***
 

My reason for sharing this story with you is that it was a huge life lesson for me – any why you ask? I was the women in the story. I’m not proud of my behavior then as I was suffering from a traumatic event from my past that I had chosen to block, that was briefly triggered by the hurt I felt at that moment I learned about the flowers to the secretary. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t pissed at this ladies actions, but I no longer cry about it and I no longer try to take ownership of what the women in the office had done. I no longer wonder what had I done wrong, as the answer is nothing! He was being kind and she was taking advantage of his kindness.

Through a process called Congnitive Therapy, I am able to disassociate myself from the hurt I felt about the flowers and finally tell the story without feeling emotional sorrow. I am told this feeling means that I have figured out how to understand that it wasn't anything I said or did that made another person do what they chose to do. I am choosing on this day to go past it and was the reason I wanted to share it today. I used to laugh at the people who claimed that the more you talked about what hurts you, the better you begin to feel.  They're right. The past is the past, and as I walk the road to whatever recovery that will eventually be bestowed upon me, I have learned a new way to bring my Valentine’s heart back to life and looking forward to what the future has instore.  

Today, I am learning how to understand the sexual assualt and painful memories that are triggered in and out of my daily life. I walk with my head up and carry a smile because I still feel I have to hide that there are days when I'd rather be home under the covers and hide away from the world. I am choosing to reach for the strength to forgive those who deserve forgiving. I can’t change what happened in the past, but if I keep reliving it, I’ll never know what my future is. I feel like Virginia when she learned that there really is a Santa Clause and that it is the giving of one’s self, of their time, of their touch - that is the true gift of love and means more than any gift you would get in the stores. That with every card, or gift that is given, and don’t get me wrong, people like the material things, I know I do, but If I had to choose something materialistic vs. a gift in  the form of compassion, passion, love, caring, listening, understanding, trust, a walk hand in hand, and so much more, I’ll give up the material item and enjoy the icing on cake - the ability to share these feelings of love with the one I hold most dearly in my heart and enjoy and appreciate the gift of life, family, and togetherness we have shared over the past twenty-one years.
Many thanks for taking time from your day to read my words. Please understand that everyone handles things in a different way. I just wanted to share my story with you. I’m not looking for sympathy and I’m not trying make you feel bad in anyway shape or form. This is just a life lesson that took me years to study for…I’m passing, but only with a C+ for now. Smile.

Until my next post – Blog ya later alligator.
 
 
As to the special man in my life - I'm sending you a song. Thank you for being patient with me. I know I had not been the best person to be around years ago. Thank you for waiting to let me show you the real me that has been trying to get out from behind this wall I had built around myself. Elephant Shoes Forever!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_lfpr9bT7k
 
 
 
 
 

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

"Mystery of the Harvest Moon" - By Stacey Bolin (Spooky story original)


Do you know how many days until Halloween????
 
 

 
"Mystery of the Harvest Moon"
Written By: Stacey L. Bolin
copyright: 10/27/2012 all rights reserved
Music accompanyment by:
Michael Donner "Disease"

A golden full moon rose higher and higher in the night sky, casting a shadowy light on the dirt road that cut straight through the vast treeless prairie land of Wyoming. Nature’s symphony of Coyotes, crickets, and toads, added the melody, which would otherwise be a land of silence. In the distance headlights of a vehicle grew larger and larger that was accompanied by the graceful music of Ella Fitzgerald singing blue moon. A Jack rabbit jumped from out of the tall grass, into the road, and was met by the tread of an old 1951 Ford F150 truck that picked it up like a football, tossed its lifeless body aside along with the rocks and dust that trailed behind, to fall where it may.

Randall A. Wolfe was in a hurry to get home on his way back from getting supplies for the farm in town. The farm had been his pride and joy and he was very proud that he had achieved the ability of keeping this farm from going into bankruptcy and being foreclosed upon as this was a place that had been in his family for many years and where he grew up as a boy. It had become a family tradition to pass the skills and the farm to the next born son in the family on their 21st birthday - something that he wished his son, Russell would warm up to, but since hearing the story of “The Harvest Moon,” that had been told by his grandfather Harold A. Wolfe, every year at Halloween, Randall’s son, Russell A. Wolfe, vowed he’d never resume the duties as those before him had done.

As Randall, pulled up the auto gate of his farm and got out of his truck to retrieve his mail, he looked up at the archway and smiled knowing that it was his father and grandfather that had created such a wrought iron beauty that had been adorned with a Circle in the center representing a full moon, with the families last to the left and the name of their farm – Full Moon Ranch, on the right. On the polls that held the arch in place, were various designs of western art that was a collaboration of two coyotes howling at the moon, horse shoes, and sunflowers as a mirror image on both sides.  It was fitting, especially on a night like tonight and the meaning behind their creation. As he stood there, it dawned on him – the story, it was the story of the moon that was the reason why his son wanted nothing to do with owning the farm, but maybe it would be his son’s fiancée’ that would help him change his mind as he knew tonight his son was going to propose to his girlfriend – yet he could only hope that this relationship would not turn out like the last girl he was with.

***

A bone chilling wind raced through the night air, as Lillian and Russell sat snuggled together wrapped in a quilt enjoying the warmth of the bomb fire that crackled and snapped small embers into the air as the flames consumed the wooden fuel that they continue to place upon it. The moon had been displaced by a dense cloud cover that had loomed all day in the sky that threaten rain up their cozy night out together. This was to be the night that Russell would ask Lillian to marry him. They had been together for the five years and he had found that as he lived each day and night, it was the thought of her that made him smile. He had always felt a deep connection between them and he realized he wanted so much more. Yet something in the back of his mind kept holding his ability to pop the question. As they sat, Lillian was eager to learn more about her talk dark and handsome man.

“So Russ, I have to ask you a very personal question.” She said, hoping he would turn and look into her eyes passionately and whisper the answer in her ear.

He sat there in a strange daze as he watched the fire, never turning to her, and only replied, “OK?”

“Why is it that you don’t like a harvest moon?”

He immediately began to cough. He had been startled by this question. “He had never told anyone about his dislike for that particular event each year. There was no way anyone could know?” He thought.

“I just figured that over the past few years we have been together, we always talked about going out like were are right now, but you never want to go on one of the best nights – the night of the full moon. Each time I suggest going out on a beautiful fall night that is lit by a full moon you always avoided the topic – why?” she said in a tender voice.

“I don’t like to talk about!” He said, trying to hide his agitation.

“It can’t be that bad can it? I promise I won’t tell anyone – trust me.”

He pulled himself out from the blanket and crouched down closer to the fire to poke at it repeatedly with a stick, leaving her to sit by herself.

“Russell, did I say something wrong?”

“Lillian, I am just not feeling myself right now. Maybe we should just leave,” he replied in a deep monotone voice.

Her voice was innocent and kind and he knew she was of kind heart when she replied, “If that’s what you want. I’m sorry that I upset you.”

“I’m a brave person,” he said in blankness stare into the fire.

“Sure you are who said you weren’t?”

“Do you want to know what happened or not?” He sharply responded then made some sort of growling sound under his breath.

Startled by the way he snapped at her, she simply said, “Yes Russell I want to hear your story, I’m sorry I interrupted you, please go on.”

Russell had finally found the courage to tell Lillian why it was that he disliked the only night out of the year in October that the harvest moon fell upon. His story began as if he were trying to protect his credibility as a man only to reveal he was protecting so much more than that and Lillian was about to learn so much more about her man than she ever expected.

Russell tolerated snakes, spiders, and weird creatures that roam the prairie land after dark. He was certainly not afraid of heights or the dark, and he loved a great ghost story around a blazing campfire with his friends and family. I guess one could say that Russell could be labeled as a fearless person with one exception, his fear of a full harvest moon. The reasons behind his fears was because of an old legend told to him by his grandpa when he was a small boy. The legend was told every year just before Halloween, and always on the night of the harvest moon, weather the moon shone bright in the night sky or was sleeping behind a blanket of rain clouds – whatever the October date was on the calendar of the full moon, the story was told. He remembered sitting in the old farm house with family around the huge oak dinner table. All the candles would be lit and in copper sconces as a fire crackled hot in the fireplace. All The family, young and old, would gather round to hear grandpa’s traditional tale – “Mystery of the Harvest Moon.” After packing his pipe and then lighting it with a wooden match, he would lean back in his chair staring at the fire, puff a few rings from his pipe into the air and then would being his tale like this, “I recon it was early 1900’s or so. It was five local farmers and I, all doing our best to get our crops in off the grounds before the threat of an early winter storm was upon us. Last thing we wanted to do was to lose the crop. It was our life line, both for financial reasons and for  nourishment as this would be all that we had to get us through until the next harvest. Then men and I knew that it was never a good idea to be in the fields after dark during that time of year with all the hungry coyotes, wolves and occasional brown bear that were doing their best to fatten up as they prepared for their winter months too.” Then he took another drag from his pipe.

“I warned your grandfather that being out after dark, will bring nothing but trouble.” Grandma Nettie chimed in as she took a hot pumpkin pie out of the oven and placed it on the table to cool.

“Hush up old woman,” grandpa scowled, “This is my story tonight.”

“Then get on with it old man. Pies getting cold.” she said in a grandma’s unique way.

Grandpa went on with his story, in a raspy spooky voice, “We knew that we didn’t have much time to get the crops out of the field, as the full moon displayed two huge glowing rings around it and we all knew what that meant – snow.  We did our best with the tools that we had then, and against the wishes of the women folk, we worked into the night. Now being young men in our beginning twenties, who believed we knew it all, it was hard to convince us otherwise. As we worked hard cutting the crops and placing them in the wagons, we could hear the coyotes at the edge of the fields, howling at the moon and taking in the scent of human flesh dancing across an occasional wind that passed us. The horses began to get spooked, but still we continued to work until just about midnight. 

It was at about this time that I began to feel a bit agitated, itchy, and was met with a strange taste in my mouth. It was a peculiar sensation that I had never felt before and thought that I might have been touched with a sour stomach. I don’t recall how I got home from the fields that evening, but was feeling much better when I awoke the next morning. I went downstairs to a breakfast fit for a king and fresh coffee percolating. Your grandma had mentioned that she had been up half the night cleaning up my mess, which I assumed was from my sour stomach. It wasn’t until the sheriff knocked on our door I realized what the mess was that she was forced to clean. It was then I learned what had happened to the others who worked in the fields with me that night. The sheriff believed that the other men had been attacked by coyotes and or wolves. It was so hard to tell as there was nothing but pools of blood, scattered horse carcasses, and several drag marks that looked like it was made by human bodies. It was then I knew it was due to the horrific powers of the Harvest Moon. I had been told similar stories from my father and grandfather when I was a boy, and just thought it was an urban legend just to scare us before going out on all Hollow’s eve. It wasn’t until I found my pair of boots, which I had worn that night, covered in blood did I know what truly happened and that is why I tell the tale to warn all of you.”

“Oh Harold your scaring the kids. When are you going to learn that you are not responsible for what happened. You were trying to provide for your family and fell ill.” Grandma Nettie said in a stirred voice. “You keep telling this tale, and your farm will be doomed for certain.”

Russell never forgot the first time, or the last time, that his grandfather told of that story. How could he forget since the awing over the autogate was a constant reminder when he’d go home to the farm to visit with his father, like he had done just recently to tell him of his intentions to marry Miss Lillian.


“Wow, Russell, your story even scared me. I can understand why you are bothered by the moon and I am sorry that I kept trying to tell you that it was all in your imagination.” Lillian said with shame in her voice.

He never looked back at her as the clouds slowly began to dissipate in the sky.

“I guess I should also tell you that I did something I am not proud of and I hope that you can forgive me when I tell you this.”

“Go on.” Said Russell

“Well, you know those calendars I like to make with all the photos we take of the rocky mountains and places we have been throughout the mid-west together..well I changed when the full moon would fall in the month of October so that we could finally enjoy a night out together, and since there is no moon in the sky while we are in the valley tonight, I figured you would never notice.”

Russell remained knelt before the fire, poking it over and over again, until he said, “I understand, but what’s done is done.”

Feeling that she was in the clear and that he understood why she did what she did, Lillian decided to change the conversation quickly before he really had time to think about it.

“So, Russell, I couldn't help but noticed that all the men in your family have an A, for an initial. What does it stand for? Alan? Alex? Adam? What?”

“Aware,” he said with another growl in his tone while scratching at his back and arms continously.

“Aware? That’s different, what do you have to be aware of?” she commented with a bit of laughter in her voice.

Russell growled again as the moon broke through the clouds.  Russell’s eyes glowed in the moon light as he looked at Lillian with a snear and said as he eye teeth gleemed, “Not Aware - A WERE. You know as in - A WEREWOLF!”
 
***

The full moon was a blood red color in the sky as a shrilling howling type sound echoed across the valley, where their camp fire had been. His family secret was out again, and just like the last girl he had dated that questioned his fears of the Harvest Moon - Lillian now joined her.