Are writing prompts a useful exercise, or do you find them to be too limiting and/or hokey?
An interesting question posed today by the Daily Prompt. I’m so glad they asked!
Personally I like the daily prompts. It helps when I’m in a writing slump. I don’t do every single one of them. I pick and choose which ones I want to do.
Some of the prompts I’m not fond of. Those that want us bloggers to pat ourselves on the back too much are just not my cup of tea. For example, the other day they wanted us to write about the movie that would be made about our lives and who would play us. Eh, skipped that one.
I like the ones that make us think, give us some challenge in writing. I don’t mind silly sometimes, but not the self grandiose stuff.
I’m just not that interesting!
Another reason I like the daily prompts is because they can be a great jumping off place! I mean it gives me ideas in other ways. The prompt might be for one thing, but my mind takes it in another and another and …….well see what I mean? It can be a wonderful starting point for something completely different.
So please Daily Prompt keep them coming! I enjoy them, not only writing them but reading what so many other good writers do with them. Just keep ‘em coming!
So do you have any ideas for a daily prompt you might want me to use? I am always open for suggestions from you! Let me know in the comments sections below, or if your a bit more shy you can always email me a suggestion at
I’m early this week with FF’s I know. This week has been royally screwed since Monday so I figured why not screw with it some more. 🙂
I have no idea what the rest of this week is going to be like so figured since I have a little bit of time right now I would get my FF’s fix in early. I am NOT missing it for anything! Even if my eyes are watering and I’m sneezing my fool head off! Allergies, ugh go away all ready!!
Ok, I‘m done whining for now. On with the good stuff!
I want to thank our kind hostess Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for putting up with us once more. If you want to read more great flash fiction based on the same picture just click on Rochelle’s name. That will take you to her blog where you can read her great story first (she is the greatest writer of these little shorts!!). Then scroll down and click on the little blue critter where you will fly off and land on a whole host of other great writers! Read people, read!
Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and an end. (No one will be ostracized for going a few words over the count.)
Make every word count.
Below is this week’s picture and my attempt at writing something cohesive. I am always open to helpful criticisms so come on, don’t be afraid to say what you want. I don’t bite, much. 😉
Genre/paranormal (100 words)
Paddy leaned on his broom, pipe in mouth, as he watched the people bustle about. Bending slightly he pushed the broom a few feet further down the way.
A gnarled finger pushed his newsy cap further back on his head as he looked around once more.
Yep, he thought, I seen a lot of people come and go through this station through the years. Love this station I do.
Paddy continued pushing his old broom. People went by him without seeing. Though some swore there was a chill in that part of the station.
Paddy’s form shimmered as a commuter rushed through him on his way to catch the train.
Yup, he’d been here a long time now.
(A newsy cap(or newsboy cap) was popular not only with newsboys of the early 20th century but also with lots of men during those times. I added the link in case you want to read what it is and what it looks like.)
I am not a photographer by any stretch of imagination. I do like to challenge myself sometimes. So I decided to see if I could come up with something for this weeks Photo Challenge: Focus.
My pets are like my children. I’m sure most pet owners can identify with that statement. I’m always taking pictures of them when they sit still long enough. Not too long ago I took some of Sam and one of my cats Pouncer. They were both vying for the same spot of sunshine.
The first picture is of the two of them. I really didn’t focus on anything, just trying to get a picture of them both wanting the same thing.
Then I took another shot of Sam basking in the lions share of sunshine.
I loved how the sunshine shown on Sam and made me think of a black/white picture. So I took another shot focusing on just Sam and how the light played with his coloring of black/white. I thought it turned out pretty good and is my favorite shot of my little guy.
I’ve been a bit scattered this week but I try to never miss a Friday Fictioneers! It’s my addiction. Rochelle Wisoff-Fields is our gracious hostess as always. If you want to join in the fun that is FF’s click on Rochelle’s name and it will take you to her blog where you can read the few rules we follow. Or if you just want some good reading in short form, click on Rochelle’s name, which will take you to her blog, then scroll down till you come to a blue critter. Click on it and that will take you to all the wonderful writers who write their stories, poems or whatever strikes their fancy. It all stems from the same photo which makes for interesting reading!
Honest and open criticism is always welcome, as long as it’s nicely put. I have delicate feelings. hahaha! No, really, comments are always welcomed.
Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and an end. (No one will be ostracized for going a few words over the count.)
Make every word count.
Genre/ Gothic fiction (Yes I just had to go there) 100 words
Charlotte looked out the carriage window as it stopped. Biting her lip she thought the driver must have gotten the address wrong.
Sighing, she stepped down and shook out her dress. Adjusting her bonnet she looked around and saw nothing but ruins. She asked the driver if he was sure this was the place. He assured her solemnly that it was indeed.
Sir Roland Tussaud watched Charlotte from the shadows. The new governess was a bit plain he thought, but she would do.
His tongue felt the pricks of his teeth as they grew longer. Yes, she would do nicely.
Last week I wrote a post and had five pictures up for you my dear readers and friends to vote on. Whichever picture had the most votes I promised to write a short story about. I want to thank all who participated in my little experiment. If you missed out you can find the post with the pictures to vote on here.
I meant to write today’s post on Tuesday, but things around here got a bit hectic and so I am running a few days late. Sorry about that.
So, which did you pick for me to write a story about?
The winner by a landslide is ………….. #2!
Great choice people! This could go so many ways! Here is what I came up with. Hope you enjoy!
Bill sat on the bench with his head in his hands. He was worried and upset. He had heard that morning of a friend of his that had quit his job the day before. Bill always thought Jeff loved his job!
He had been an accountant, just like Bill. Yeah, Jeff had loved his numbers, Bill remembered. Jeff had worked long hours at his job, coming in early, leaving late. Cost him his marriage Bill knew. Jeff had confided in him one night as they both sat at the neighborhood bar. His wife walked out on him, saying she never saw him anyway, so what difference did it make.
Bill and Jeff worked in the same building downtown. Same job, accountants, different companies though. They had met years ago right on this very bench one sunny afternoon at lunch time. They struck up a conversation and became fast friends that very afternoon.
What made Jeff leave his job? He had a great salary, benefits, health plan. He had been there for almost 20 years!
Bill had tried calling his friend that morning but all he got was voice mail. Today was Saturday, where the hell was Jeff? He decided to go for a walk and try Jeff later. He walked and walked trying to figure things out and ended here. On this bench, tired and worried.
Bill heard someone walk up and stop next to him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw bright yellow. Taking a chance he looked over then quickly away. There was someone standing next to the bench in a bright yellow costume! Probably one of those clowns Jeff and he laughed about most days.
There was a clown class held in a small building not too far from where Bill sat. Bill and Jeff used to watch them on their lunch breaks. The clowns would try to make people laugh with jokes and pranks. Bill supposed it was a classroom project. He remembered the jokes he and Jeff would laugh about as they watched the clowns, many in costume run around and make fools out of themselves.
Bill put his head back in his hand and tried his best to ignore the yellow fellow. Maybe he’ll just go away Bill thought. He wondered if he should try Jeff’s cell again. He wanted to talk to his friend and find out what was going on. Accounting was all Jeff knew! What was he going to do now that he quit his job?
He heard the guy in the costume shuffle closer to the bench. Bill hoped the guy wasn’t going to bother him, he really wasn’t in the mood for jokes.
Maybe if he pulled out his cell phone the guy would get the hint and move on. Worth a try Bill thought and he wanted to try Jeff again anyway. So he pulls out his cell and scrolls through his numbers till he finds Jeff’s. Hitting the button he hoped Jeff would pick up now.
Seconds later he hears the call ringing at the same time the costumed guy’s phone starts ringing. Bill doesn’t think much of it, just swiveling in his seat so his back is to the clown.
He listens to the ringing in his ear and hopes Jeff picks up.
Finally he hears a Jeff’s voice!
“Jeff?? What gives??”
Jeff hears his name in his ear and from the yellow guy behind him at the same time! Slowly he lowers his phone and swings back to look at the guy with shock.
“Jeff???? No, it can’t be you!!??”
Bill watches the guy slowly reach up and pull off his round yellow head.
“What the hell are you doing?!”
Jeff sits on the bench and puts down his bucket and costume head.
“I’m fulfilling a life long dream of mine Bill.”
“Yeah, I’ve always dreamed of being a clown. Ever since I was 5 and went to the circus with my parents. Clowns are heros!”
“Clowns are clowns Jeff! They are ridiculous! You’re an accountant for God’s sake! And a damn good one!”
“Being an accountant was what my dad wanted, not me. He was an accountant, as his dad before him and so forth down the line. I was expected to be one too! It’s never what I wanted though.”
“But a clown Jeff??? Really? We used to sit here and make fun of those jokers!”
“I know and I always felt bad afterwards. I felt bad and jealous. I wanted to be in those oversized shoes! I wanted to have that makeup on!”
“So what’s with the yellow fellow then? Where’s those oversized shoes and clown makeup?”
“A clown has to start somewhere Bill.”
“You gave up a great job and all those benefits for a yellow…..yellow…..what ever the hell it is?!!”
“I won’t always be the yellow fellow Bill. But a clown has to work themselves up the ladder.”
“My god Jeff! Are you having a mid-life crisis or something? If you needed some help you just had to call me!”
“No, I’m not having a breakdown. I just decided what’s the fun in life if you can’t do what you love?”
“But you love numbers! You told me so yourself countless times!”
“I do love numbers. It’s in my blood. I thought I could be happy being an accountant. As the years passed I became more and more unhappy though. I wanted to be a clown! I dreamt of clowns! I even had a clown outfit secretly made up for myself!”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I thought you wouldn’t understand. You’re my best friend. You helped me get through losing Helen. I just didn’t want to lose your friendship too.” Jeff stated quietly, looking down at his big yellow head in his hands.
“I love being a clown Bill. It’s my life now.”
Bill lifted his head and looked at his friend. He saw that despite the lines of worry on his forehead that Jeff looked more relaxed than he had ever seen him. Who was he to deny his friend’s happiness? He couldn’t.
Bill lifted his lips in a smile and leaned back into the bench.
“My son’s fifth birthday is the next weekend. He loves clowns too. Want to come over and practice your clown act?”
When the full moon happens, you turn into a person who’s the opposite of who you normally are. Describe this new you.
I sit huddled in the dark corner of my living room. I can already feel the pull of the new mood that is rising in the star-studded inky sky.
I dread it every time the full moon rises. My body twitches and itches. My nerve endings tingle with energy. I know what is coming and hate the inevitable.
Clenching my teeth I hug myself tightly. My body rocks back and forth as my fingers dig into my aching arms. My head starts to buzz and I feel my teeth ache. I rock harder and hear myself mumbling a useless litany of words.
“Please, please, not again. No, no, no. I will not turn.”
Again and again I sing this song. I know it’s useless. It always happens on the full moon. Always.
My family has been cursed for centuries. An old ancestor had made a very powerful warlock angry and he cursed the females of the family. Every new moon the curse comes alive. For me it is an agony, a torture that I endure. I’m not sure how much longer I can endure it though. It weakens me each time. Each time I think will be my last. Each time I pray it will be my last.
Hours before the new moon comes I bar the door and windows. Dozens of locks are put in place and I hide the keys. I make sure my car is not readily available by pulling out cables and hiding those also. I do more and more each time to try to insure I can’t get out of my own home.
I’ve even gone as far as putting my car in someone else’s garage overnight, hoping that it will slow my desires down when the new moon rises. It’s never enough though. Never strong enough locks, the car is never too far away. The moon’s pull is more powerful than all my puny attempts of sabotage.
My rocking slows as I feel the moon’s final pull on my body. The change has come. I sigh deeply and rise from my chair. I know I look different now, I don’t have to search out a mirror to confirm it. I have lived with this never-ending curse for years now. I know there is no cure, no hope.
I know my eyes have ice in them now. I am cold, calculating. I have changed completely into someone I hate, I fear. I feel my body differently now. It feels rigid and tough. I toss back my hair and breath deeply. The change is complete once again.
I have changed into something I have always feared. That is part of the curse. The females change into something they fear the most. Each one is different. Each one is unique in her fears. For me, I have changed into something I am not. Someone tough, hard and ruthless.
I grab my purse and keys and a brightly colored sales brochure. Yes, the change is complete one more time.
I have changed into a shoe shopper, a sales shoe shopper! Goddess help me.
The simple answer to this question is: Everything!
I have even put off doing this post. I seem to be putting off doing anything and everything lately. I put the ‘Pro’ in Procrastination, as I seem to have gone pro in the procrastination department.
I never used to be this way. When I saw something needed to be done, I just did it. No hemming and hawing. Just doing!
Now I’m lucky if anything gets done. I hate it, but have put off changing it.
I should be editing my novel *“The Key”, should have started doing that months ago! I haven’t even started yet. I should be writing the second part to my published story **“The House of Mystery”. Haven’t finished it yet.
I’m great at starting things. Just not real good at finishing them lately. I want to finish things. I want to finish my novel, my stories. But just can’t seem to get myself together enough to do it. It’s very frustrating, as I see these things but I don’t seem to be able to see a way of changing.
My mind is scattered to the four winds, my ambition is nil. I’m always coming up with arguments as to why I can’t do certain things. I tell myself, well this needs to be done first, then I need to do that and then I will have some free time. As I don’t even do that, how can I do this??
How the hell can I get off this treadmill to nowhere??! I don’t know right now, because I have to do something else first before I can finish that thought.
*The Key is my NaNoWriMo winner from last year. It’s going to be a great novel. Some day.
**The House of Mystery is my published story on Etherbooks.com. It’s a two parter. The first part has been published. The second part I’m still working on it. You can find my story here. Under ‘writers’ look for JLPhillips. You’ll find both my published stories there.
Another Friday Fictioneers is upon us on this hot Friday. My favorite day of the week.
Thanks go out once more to the hostess with the Mostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, she does a fantastic job every week.
Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and an end. (No one will be ostracized for going over or under the word count.)
Make every word count.
If you want to join us please do! There is always room for one more on the list of great authors. If you just like reading, click on Rochelle’s name, scroll down till you meet the little blue critter and click on him. That will take you to many more great stories based on the same photo.
Genre/General Fiction – (100 words)
The whole neighborhood heard him that morning, yelling, swearing.
‘Bully of the block’, that’s what everyone called him. A loud mouth bully who frightened the kids and dogs.
It’s strange how his car was the only one on the whole block that got damaged. No other tree was knocked down by last night’s storm except the one that was now on top of his car.
The neighbor across the street smiled as he heard the bully’s yell. His foot shoved the saw a bit further under the table in the garage. It’s surprising what thunder will cover up.
This is the continuing serial that I started last week. You can read the first part here.
I took a daily prompt and turned it into a serial. I’ve always wanted to write one so here it is. There will be a chapter every week until the story ends, which I have no clue when that will be! So please come back every week for the exciting next installment! Hope you enjoy!
Emma Posey: The Reluctant Adventurer
[At the end of part one, Emma had received a note from the mysterious “Four Cousins”. They wanted her help in a matter of life or death!]
A few minutes before four o’clock on the 14th Emma glanced at the watch on her wrist, then peering down the street she looked both ways to see if she could spot the “four cousins”. She huffed out a breath which stirred the dark blonde bangs covering her forehead.
Using her index finger she nervously pushed her glasses further up her nose. Her glasses seemed too big for her small face and was continually slipping down her small up-turned nose. Her dark blue eyes were huge behind the lens of her glasses as they searched the street once more.
There was a bench in front of her that was for bus passengers to wait. As no one was sitting there Emma sat down and thought back on her life thus far. She glanced down at her folded hands in her lap and gave a tiny shrug.
Her life was pretty mundane she thought to herself. Even with no family and being on her own since she was 16, her life was not full of exciting things. She had lost her parents in a car accident years ago. She didn’t want to be placed in a home, so she ran away to where she lived now.
That had been eight years ago next month Emma thought to herself. She squeezed her hands together tight then let them lay limp in her lap. Her eyes teared up as she thought about her parents. She missed them every day, but at least she no longer cried herself to sleep each night.
Emma’s parents had been wards of the state when they were young. No relatives. No parents. No one. They met while they were in a foster home together, fell in love and once they were of age, married. A few years later they had Emma and their little world was complete.
That’s what Emma’s mom always told her.
“Emma dear, you made our little world complete.”
Then one rainy day while Emma was in school, her parents went out for lunch together. They were struck by a semi truck hauling goats. Were killed instantly on a rain slicked road. Emma had been called into the Principle’s office that afternoon and told the tragic news. She also had been told to wait in the hall as someone from Child Services would be there to pick her up.
After listening to horror stories all her life from her parents about foster care, Emma was not only heartbroken at losing her parents she was scared to death to ‘go into the system’. So she ran home, packed some of her favorite things and left the town she had known all her life.
A few days of bus rides later Emma landed here. A smaller town full of nice people. Well most of them were nice. There were exceptions of course. Like her boss, Mr. Wimbley. He was not a nice man Emma thought, but she loved her job so she put up with the cross Mr. Wimbley.
Mr. Wimbley was the manager of a troupe of murder mystery players. Emma was hired to keep the costumes in good repair, to purchase new costumes if necessary and to inventory all costumes and jewelry after each performance. She loved her job and the players were like a family to her after five years being under their collective wing.
Mr. Wimbley didn’t own the company, a Mrs. Brookshire did. Emma had never met Mrs. Brookshire even though she had been hired by the good lady herself. That in itself was a rather strange tale.
Emma let out another large breath, sat up straight and looked up and down the street, again. She gave a long look left and saw nothing out-of-place, then she gave a long look right. All she saw was a man walking with a cane, an elderly lady with a shopping bag and a big orange cat sitting on a stoop washing its self.
She sat back on the bench and looked left again. She gave out a small gasp as she came face to face with a youngish man sitting on the other end of the bench! He hadn’t been there a minute ago!
He was a handsome young man, dark brown hair and hazel eyes with small flecks of green in them. Emma noticed this as he stared right at her.
“Hello, how do you know my name?”
“My name is Robert Hawkins and I’m a friend.”
“I don’t know you!” Emma stated firmly.
“But we know about you Emma, my cousins and I.”
Emma swung her head back and forth.
“Where are your cousins then?” She asked the brash young man.
“They are close by. We didn’t want to scare you by showing up all at once.”
“So you really are cousins?” Emma asked. She knew she should be scared, but for now she was out in public and felt quite brave.
“Yes, of course we are.”
“What do you want with me then?”
“We need your help Emma Posey. We need you to help us find something.”
“Put an ad in the paper if you need to find something. I don’t see how I can help with that.” Emma said shaking her blond head. She pushed her glasses up her nose in the familiar habit she had when nervous.
“It’s not something we can advertise for Emma.”
Suddenly he put two fingers up to his mouth and gave a loud whistle. Emma jumped in surprise as the whistle pierced her ears.
Robert Hawkins was surrounded by three large young men in seconds after he gave the whistle. Emma was surprised at how quickly they showed up, almost from thin air! Or so it seemed to her. She lifted her head and eyed the three newcomers. They silently looked back at her.
She saw a resemblance to Robert and didn’t doubt they were all related. Two had the same coloring as Robert, but lighter in tones. The third one was the biggest, with black hair and dark eyes. Emma could imagine him being the scariest. Yet, he was the first to smile at her.
With a gentle deep tone, the giant spoke.
“Hello Emma Posey. So glad to finally meet you.”
He held out a hand that was huge and Emma found herself placing her tiny hand in his. He gently shook it and smiled again. Emma felt at ease at once. There was something so old-fashioned and courtly about the young giant. He reminded her of Mr. Dickson in many ways.
Then her eyebrows lifted in question.
“To finally meet me?? Why do you say it that way?”
Robert answered instead of the giant.
“We’ve known about you for years Emma, that’s what John was referring to.”
“Known about me for years? Why? How?” Emma shot the questions out as fast as her mind asked them.
“We will answer all your questions in due time. Right now we need to move to a safer place.”
“Safer place? What is it that you want with me!? I’m not going anywhere until I get some answers!” Emma stated firmly.
“Emma we need your help in finding the ‘Dragon of Montrose’. If we don’t find it soon there will be more deaths!” Robert told her.
“Dragon? Montrose? What is that? How can I help? I don’t know what you are talking about!” Emma almost cried. Now she was frightened. More deaths, she thought. What deaths? Whose deaths?
Emma jumped to her feet, ready to run away from these four young men with their good looks, solemn faces and talk of deaths. She wanted to run away as fast as she could. They had the wrong person! She can’t be who they want!
Robert grabbed her hand before she could bolt. She looked into his earnest hazel eyes and saw the determination in them.
“Emma we need your help! We came a long ways to find you! It is written in our Book of Truths that a young woman would lead us to safety! That a young woman would find the Dragon and save our people! That woman is YOU Emma Posey!”
Where we moved almost everyone has a dog. Sam likes to talk to all the dogs in the neighborhood, from our yard.
I will take him out and he runs to the gate and sits and barks up into the air. Then a few seconds later you can start hearing the answers. Pretty soon the whole neighborhood is filled with different barking.
Sam just sits and grins at me, like….
“See mom! My fans adore me!”
The comic I did today is what in my mind seems to be happening when he does this. Hope you enjoy.
I’m very rarely bored. I usually have too much to do or say to be bored. This morning was an exception. I was waiting for a phone call and didn’t want to start a blog post just to be interrupted and lose my train of thought (I hate when that happens!) So I decided to go surfing on the web to wile away the time.
I started out just clicking something I thought was interesting and then clicking something else and etc……
It is simply amazing what is out there. Some things made me sad, some angry, some just made me laugh. A few things made me scratch my head and go, huh?
Then I started clicking on pictures of interest because I love using the odd picture for a writing prompt. So I thought I would see what I could find. Oh wow, did I find some!
Then I thought I would share some of what I’ve found. Tada!! My blog post for today was set! I love when that happens.
Then another idea hit me! Why not ask you, my readers, what picture I should write a story about! So here are some of my favorite finds, now YOU tell me which one to write about!
There’s the five I picked out as some of the more interesting. Now I want you to vote on what one I should write about. I will write that story next Tuesday. Thanks to all who participate!
You’re on a long flight, and a palm reader sitting next to you insists she reads your palm. You hesitate, but agree. What does she tell you?
As I settled myself in my seat next to the window I noticed an elderly lady making her way up the aisle. She was dressed all in lavender. With her white hair and deep blue eyes it was a great color for her. She had a billowy scarf around her neck that floated out behind her as she made her way closer to me.
I was hoping she would sit next to me as she looked like someone who had led an interesting life. It was going to be an even longer flight if I didn’t get someone worth talking to next to me. I’m not much of a talker myself, but love listening, and elderly people usually have the most wonderful stories to tell.
I smiled as she walked and slowed down, she glanced at her ticket and then at the number on the seat and smiled back at me.
“Guess this is my seat.” She said to me with a sweet voice.
I noticed that with her words there was a faint accent in her pronunciation. I couldn’t quite put a place to the accent, but that was okay. Maybe she will tell me without me being rude and asking.
The plane was filling up fast, as my companion for our flight sat down and made herself comfortable. There was still an empty seat between us and I frowned to myself hoping it wouldn’t get filled with some loud mouth. Or worse yet some old guy who would fall asleep five minutes after take off and snore the whole time we are up in the clouds.
I held my breath as the plane door was closed and it seemed I was going to get really lucky and have the seat right next to me remain empty. What luck! As this very rarely happens. We all sat through the instructions for emergency landings and I watched out my window as we lifted off the ground. One of my favorite times is at liftoff, where you feel your stomach fall to your feet and the slight pressure in your chest as we headed straight up into the blue sky. I closed my eyes and relished the feeling of freedom.
As I sat with my eyes closed wondering how I could open a conversation with the lady on my left, I began to hear humming. The lady was humming to herself as she rifled through her purse. I glanced over curious. She looked up and smiled and pulled out a dainty little white lace handkerchief. A handkerchief! I haven’t seen a woman use one of those since my grandmother was alive years ago! How quaint!
My companion continued to hum as she stuffed her purse down in the seat next to her slight body. She sat there with folded hands, the handkerchief peeping out under her fingers. I looked back out my window and then felt a small warm hand on my arm.
“Excuse me my dear, but I would love it if you let me read your palm.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Read my palm? She was a palm reader? Now that I wasn’t expecting! I’ve got nothing against palm readers. In fact I’ve had my palm read once before, years ago. It was pretty accurate, almost frightenly so.
I gazed into those sharp blue eyes and found myself holding out my hand, palm side up towards her. She held my hand with both of hers and one thumb gently rubbed over my palm.
There we were, heads almost bumping, hunched over my hand in hers, being held over the empty seat between us. We were silent as she looked my palm over. Then she began to softly speak.
“You have led an interesting life so far, my dear.”
“Your lifeline is long, so you have many years to go yet.”
The old woman took my right hand and turned it over and then back again. She bent my fingers back slightly, then turned my hand palm face up again.
“You have decisions to make about your future.”
“You love beauty and create beauty. You are a very creative person.”
I didn’t say anything to what she was saying to me. Her voice was soothing and mesmerizing. I just watched her face and felt her warm hands covering mine.
“You have many loves in your life. You will be loved many times.”
“There is also great sorrow. Something in your past troubles you still. You have been hurt and continue to hurt because of what was done to you.”
I bit my lip but kept silent. All she said was true. But that could have been said of any number of people. You cannot live a life without sorrow coming into it.
“You can become quite stubborn. You have strong beliefs and will fight for them always.”
“You also have much more potential than you have shown others. You have the power to be whoever you want to be, just believe in yourself enough.”
Again I almost shrugged my shoulders, as it could have been said of anyone. I was beginning to feel let down a bit. I sighed softly as I tried gently to take my hand back.
She gripped it tightly and looked me in the eye.
“Never lose sight of what you want to be. You will attain it. You are strong and strong-minded. Do not let yourself get side tracked by the unnecessary things that will fall in front of you.”
“My dearest Jackie, you have a destiny that must be filled. One that will be full of excitement and wonder. Do not ever forget that”
With those last words she put that lace handkerchief in my hand and closed my fingers over it. Then she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. She suddenly looked tired to me. I sat back and looked at the handkerchief peeping out of my fist and gripped it harder. I still hadn’t said a word. Then a thought flashed through my mind.