Posted in Fiction, Uncategorized, writing

His Angels (Part One)

He sipped his coffee. Black, one sugar. He watched the people going past. Always in a hurry. Someplace to be and little time to get there it seemed. A smile played across his lips as he thought of his own day. A lazy day to do anything or nothing. His choice. He didn’t have to hurry to a job. He had no job. Not since he quit yesterday. He had no family to consult with about his day.

There was a dog laying at his feet. His only companion. A faithful friend who  walked with him to his favorite cafe this morning so he could watch for her. He leaned down and petted the big furry head, giving a quick scratch behind an ear. The large tail wagged slowly in appreciation. The brown eyes patient, waiting to continue the walk.

“Well, my friend, do you think she will walk past today?” The man asked in a gentle wondering voice.

His mind went back to when he first spotted her. Yesterday. Was it only yesterday? He knew as soon as he saw that fresh face, with the bright red hair and the big blue eyes that she would be his. With time, she would belong to him. His heart beat fast, as he thought of her belonging to him. Just him.

He didn’t even know her name, but that was not necessary. He would know soon enough.  He just knew that he had to have her. Maybe this time she was the right one. Maybe she wouldn’t disappoint like the others. He even quit his job yesterday because of her. He never liked the job, so it was no lose. He didn’t need it. He never did. It was just something to get him out of the house, to get him out so he wouldn’t become a recluse, a hermit. And he needed to keep an eye out for the right one, and a job helped with that.

As he picked up his cup to take another sip he spotted her. She stood out from her friends like a beautiful flower would stand out against a bunch of nasty weeds. Her hair shimmered in the sunlight like a flaming halo. He could hear her laughter float across the air like tinkling bells. His hand shook just a bit as he slowly took his sip. He watched her and her friends come down the sidewalk, talking and laughing. He held his breath as his beauty pointed to the cafe.  He couldn’t believe his luck as they walked in and sat a few tables away from him.

His heart pounded.  His hands became sweaty. Yes! Yes, she was the one. He knew it now for sure. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. His companion under the table looked up at him, sensing his excitement. The man forced himself to breath evenly. To calm himself. He couldn’t afford to bring attention to himself. Not yet. Not now.

He was going to take it slow with this one. Slow and easy. He needed to set things up just so. His fiery angel deserved no less. Not like the last time when he became over eager and ruined it all. No,  this time he would  make no such stupid mistakes because he couldn’t restrain his eagerness. He learned by his mistakes at least. And there were plenty in the past. But now, now he was so much smarter, so much more in control.

Before he got caught staring at her, he finished his coffee, gestured to the waiter for his check. He put the required money on the table with a sizable tip. He knew he would be back several times in the coming weeks. As he walked past the table where his Angel sat with her friends he couldn’t help but stare at her. As she laughed at something her eyes met his just briefly. He knew that it didn’t even register with her, but for him, it was ground shaking. Oh yes, she was his! She just didn’t know it yet.

picture courtesy of PhotoBucket
Posted in writing

Who Am I Today?

As I watch myself in the mirror, combing my hair, I look into my eyes and ask the question I ask every day. Who am I today?

Am I the humorist? The one that makes you smile, to laugh, to see the humor in what I write?

Am I the Dreamer today? The one who takes you to places far away. Or, to places that are make believe, to worlds of a different color.

Or, am I serious? Writing about things that make you think, to ponder, to ask or answer questions.

Am I the family historian? The one that chronicles the family of long ago. To write of individuals in the family that are interesting, that have done deeds worth writing about.

Am I the lost soul? The one who wonders where and what I am doing. The one with pain so deep they can only put it out there in writing.

Or am I none of these? Just a writer of words, a dreamer of dreams. A person who asks the age-old question.

What the heck am I going to write today!!!????

daydreamer
(picture via google)