Night Is a Killer

The mansion was deathly quiet and smelled of corpses. The chandeliers were rusted and covered in cobwebs. There was a voice from the music room. Floor boards creaked. Blood seeped out from under the door, and an ear piercing scream penetrated the room. Janice rolled her eyes and switched her TV off. It was late.

Anticipation

Anticipation lives in a quiet attic.

There isn’t a sound in that setting but a steady heartbeat as it moves across the well worn wood.

But anticipation is there, sitting calmly in the rocking chair you thought was thrown out years ago.

It is breathing down your neck when you hear a creak-or were you just imagining it?

The pale, shaking hand of anticipation is on your shoulder when you see a box labeled ‘Do not open until 1985.’

He wonders if he should follow you down the old ladder as you leave, but he decides against it.

He feels comfort in the sweet smell of years past and secrets kept.

life…its’s REAL so let yourself fly.

From the traditions,
From the dreams,

To the difficult tasks and inspiration

Go where memories are made.

~This is your moment to be beautiful~
For the love of unexpected ideas and styleJ

LIVE with more laughs and more songs.
Enjoy life’s simple pleasures

YOU ARE magical and extra special

Let
Your
Real
Self
Shine!

2 Ways of Looking at a Beach

Eyes in the pink marking the end of a long day. Toes between little sand grains and cracked shells. The ocean is vast, and the horizon seems light years away.

Hand grasping the side of the rocking motorboat, a fishing rod held to the left. The wake dribbles to shore, and make a home on the sliver of tan that is the beach.

How Would It Change Your Life?

Imagine you could forget and just let go of rage and regret.
Imagine you could defeat stress and overwhelming abrasion.
Have you ever dreamed up masterpieces?
Have you ever wanted music and time to collide?
Imagine you found the meaning of fear or freed the heartbreak deep inside you.
Imagine you could live in the moment and taste and digest every minute of life.
Be the first impression.
Speak in flying colors.
Be someone’s visible dream.

Alone Again

In those two year old eyes there was nothing but innocence that gleamed through the cruel world.

The light in them reflected off everyone else’s like hallway nightlights on a wooden floor.

She used those lights to find her way to her mommy’s room.

She was scared. The night had woken her with big feet that stomped her good dreams out.

There was a long trek from her bed over misplaced yo-yos and feet pajamas.

There was the doorknob. Her delicate fingers reached for it with determined confidence.

Past her door, the cold air would wash over her like a lazy Arctic ocean tide.

There was the uncertainty of the stairs and the risk of falling, but she was insistent on her journey.

Her mommy’s room was coming closer. It got bigger in her pupils the more steps she took.

Too bad mommy wasn’t there.

The sheets were a stark white, and she fought back tears with a vengeance.

That innocence was becoming endangered and consumed by the thoughts that terrified her.

The mattress didn’t seem as soft when she was alone.

There were no comforting whispers that used to assure the girl that everything was alright.

She would be alone again tonight.