A Reunion of Twin Flames


‘Maybe I was born with you inside me. Maybe I have always carried you with me. Maybe you are all the wild in me.’ ~ Tyler Knott Gregson 

The inn was packed with men and women dressed in business attire, their heads bent forward while their fingers glided across the glass surface of their cell phones. Bosses and employees continued conversations that had begun in morning meetings, the subjects touching on nothing and everything. Wait staff rushed by with trays full of hot food and cold beverages. The air was filled with the scent of homemade chicken soup and the yeast of warm bread pulled fresh from the oven. Coffee cups clattered as they were refilled and ice cubes clinked in glasses topped off with fresh water. Silverware scratched across empty plates while mundane conversations continued to buzz.

Lauren placed her hands palms side down on the antique oak table. She scrutinized her long fingers and cursed herself for getting a manicure before meeting with her long lost love.  She’d never been what you’d call a high maintenance woman. All she needed to do was apply a little mascara to her sparse eyelashes and coat her berry colored lips with store brand chap stick.

Frank tenderly stroked the stones in the ring on the third finger of her right hand. It tickled as the sensation traveled from her arm and down her spine. With his touch, Lauren felt as though someone had walked across her grave, found out all of her secrets and read all her old love letters. She lifted her hand from the table and wrapped it protectively around his. His hand was course from hard work, but when she touched it she swore it turned to velvet.

His green eyes bore into her as he said, “look at me.”

Lauren did as he requested, and in that moment she couldn’t stop staring at him. He was still beautiful. The man was dark haired, skinny and tall, with a mouth that was perfect for kissing. He looked into her blue eyes and discovered the irises were flecked with gold. Why hadn’t he noticed that when they were young? She smiled, and he swore he saw the sun rise in her eyes. Frank tucked a hand under her chin, leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss.

“My God woman but you are gorgeous.”

“I am not,” Lauren replied. “I am only slightly pretty.”

Frank slid his hands underneath the dress she wore specifically for him and with a low growl replied, ‘If I say you’re gorgeous, you are, because I never lie.”

The restaurant continued to buzz with conversation while the wait staff flurried around them, but the activity was lost on them. Lauren fell into his arms, her desire at its genesis. Frank gave her a gentle kiss on the pulse point of her throat and she moaned right there in the middle of the restaurant. She wondered if anyone had heard her, and then realized she didn’t really care if they did. If Frank was anything like he was when they were young, he was finding pleasure in enticing her with people around them.

Lauren whispered into his ear, “what do you see in me?”

“Your worth”, he replied as he turned and slipped his tongue into her mouth.

She had forgotten how good his kisses were, and it was all she could do not to bite his lips. Frank finally pulled away so that he could continue their conversation and to not attract too much attention from the other restaurant patrons.

‘You my darling, are like me, don’t you see that, after all of the conversations we’ve had?’

Lauren replied, ‘I guess you’re right.’

Their kisses continued, as Frank’s hands roamed underneath her dress. He caressed her plump legs and boldly brushed his fingers across the soft cotton of her panties. Lauren’s body stiffened and it was all she could do to keep from crying out.

Frank we have all the time in the world for this, so let’s wait.

Moving his hands to rest on her knees he kissed her forehead and nodded his agreement. She put her hand in his, and began to talk about their life together. He whispered how much he loved her while Lauren weaved her stories. Frank was enamored with her spirit and wondered what had taken him so long to find her again. He realized that all of his crooked roads had let straight back to her. Sitting here in an inn during a busy lunch hour, he knew that his home was with her. The inn began to empty of the lunch crowd. Bussing staff cleaned and reset tables for the dinner hour.

Frank and Lauren paid the bill for their untouched lunch and drinks. Hand in hand they made their way outside and back to their separate vehicles.

“I promise to see you soon,” Frank told her.

“Don’t make me any promises, just say we’ll meet again.”

“I want you in my life every day.”

“It’ll happen, when you’re ready”, Lauren told him.

“I love you darling.”

With a quick kiss she said, “I know, and that’s what gets me out of bed every day.”

With that Lauren got into her car and drove away. At the stoplight she turned, smiled vibrantly and waved goodbye.

Frank would like to say that their story ended happily. That he and Lauren finally reunited for good and lived together, but that was the last time he saw her. Now every time he drove past the inn, he thought of her and what he should have done. That day he should have brought her flowers. He should have run away with her. He should have made her his wife. But he didn’t do any of those things. He wasn’t sure if it was fear of the future or his past that kept him from her. All he knew was that he would miss her every day until he breathed his last breath.

Friday Fictioneers-If Music be the Food of Love, Play On

Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for the prompt this week. I’ve been sinking my creative teeth into Friday Fictioneers and finding that I love the taste. The practice in discipline has been quite a learning experience. I figure if I can tell a story in 100 words, imagine what I could do with 100 pages. Or 500 pages. I’m getting closer to that 500 pages. Everyday…

I want you all to know that I’m working through some sadness in my life. I’m trying to keep the smile on my face, but it’s difficult. I know that my stories have been tearjerkers as of late. Hopefully, now that I know that the results of my surgery came back negative, I can enjoy a great 2013. Hugs, love and kisses to you all. On with the story.


If music be the food of love, play on.-Shakespeare

She reaches for the cello in the closet. Wishes he was here to rehearse their duet. She seats herself and begins to play their haunting, melancholy composition. Her eyes close and she feels the music flow within her. The sadness begins to disperse from her heart. She doesn’t hear him enter the room. He silently picks up the other cello. Sitting across from her, he sees her somber yet serene face. Places the instrument between his legs and strokes the bow upon the strings… She opens her eyes, gives him a wistful grin. They let the music extend their apologies.

Let’s Play Look Tag ;-)

Thank you Breezy Books for the this fun little game to play


Maddy Cochere of Breezy Books, author of  four books including, Sunshine Hunter, has tagged me for the Look Challenge. I like this challenge because I can share a little more of my book than just six sentences.

The challenge is simple.  Per Maddy, “The idea is to locate the word ‘look’ in whatever manuscript/book you have lying around (I may be paraphrasing here) and post the few previous and following paragraphs and then invite other authors to do the same.”

My ‘look’ is from The Gargoyle, by Andrew Davidson. It’s a love story about two lovers who’s love spans countries and centuries and was recommended to me by my friend Rory, the most wonderful man I know besides Roger Darling. He told me I would identify with it because of my fear of beauty and the need for unconditional love. Let’s just say the man was right. I think it’s one of the best books I’ve ever read. I “feel” every word put to paper. Every damn word.


“Look,” he said gently, “the dark spots have come to your skin.’ Graziana began to weep, but Francesco smiled and stroked her hair. “Don’t cry. We don’t have time for tears. Let us love while we still can.”

That very afternoon, Graziana fell into the worst of it. For three days, they lay together. For three days, Graziana went about dying horrendously in his arms while he told her stories about swans and miracles and great loves. On the third mid-night of her illness, Francesco awoke to her tortured breathing. She turned her face to his.

“This is it.”

He said, “I will see you soon.”

Francesco kissed Graziana one final time, taking her final breath deep into his chest. “Ti amo,” she said, I love you.

After she passed, Francesco slipped the wedding ring from her finger. He, too, was now deeply ill, but he pulled himself out of bed. He could barely stand, crippled by the nausea and fever, but he forced himself into his blacksmith shop. There was one thing left to do.

He lit the fire and heated the forge. He melted both wedding rings, his and hers, and poured them into an arrowhead mold. When the arrowhead was completed, he set it onto a shaft. He looked down the length of the arrow, ensuring it was as straight and true as any he had ever made.

Francesco pulled down the crossbow that was pinned to his wall.

The book is a heart breaker my loves. My favorite kind. You’ll have to read the rest to find out what happens. Remember not all love stories end happily or with an explainable outcome. Sigh.


I’m tagging these writers/bloggers to do the same in one of their upcoming blog posts:

t from as long as i’m singing

Kyle Mew from KyleMew.com

Bradley Alan from Youjivinmeturkey.com

Diana from TalktoDiana.wordpress.com

Vikkie from The-View-Outside.com

If It’s the Beaches

Harry played this for me once. Made me cry of course. Thought of it today while I wished for a beach, a pin up style swimsuit, paper, a pen, a bottle of tequila and a story to write. Got a good story floating through my sparkly mind. A love story. With a sad ending. Or maybe I’ll leave it open ended. Maybe. We’ll just see…..