Tag Archive | artistic

Persie and a Soaring Heart


Her wings took up a lot of space in the room.

“I can’t believe I listened to her. ‘The costume theme is Fantasy Garden.’ That’s what she said.”  Persie glared at Brooke and hoped her one-time friend sensed the anger from across the room.

Persie should’ve known better than to trust Brooke, but she’d been sincere in mending their torn friendship.  They’d been friends too long not to try to repair the damage caused by stubbornness and pride.  Apparently, that pledge was only one-sided.

“What are you supposed to be?”

She rolled her eyes and plastered an insincere smile on her face.  “Clearly I got the wrong memo.”

“Haha!  You think?”

Hank walked away laughing, and Persie fought against the fury boiling within.  She didn’t listen to her gut instincts when Brooke came to see her yesterday, pleading for a fresh start and imploring her to come to the Halloween party.  Persie was uncertain if she should go, but after thinking about all the years past, she decided to give it a shot.

“Oh, Pers.  You talked to Brooke, didn’t you?”

The pity in Felicia’s voice held a hint of laughter too, but Persie knew that her long-time friend was more concerned than amused.  It was a particularly ridiculous situation, to be standing in a room full of flappers and “mobsters”.  She’d considered staying in her car and driving right back home; however, she’d seen Paul enter the pillared entrance and her pride drove her to park that car.

Unless her imagination played a trick on her, which it tended to do in stressful situations, Paul had to be here somewhere.  Thankfully, he’s not currently witnessing her embarrassment.

“Stupid, right?”  Persie shook her head out of annoyance and smiled at Felicia.

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself, that’s my job!”  Leave it to this model-esque femme fatale to break the tension and make Persie  laugh.  “Brooke is an…”

“Shh! This room is full of eavesdropping gossips.”

“I don’t care.  Let her hear me!”

Persie pulled Felicia into the hallway when her friend’s raised voice brought unwanted attention.

“Come on, Lici.  Not tonight, please.”

“Fine,” her friend acquiesced, “but if she so much as says your name wrong, I’m entitled to drop kick her.  Just so you know.”

Felicia winked and Persie knew her loyal confidante was only half-joking.

“Thank you.  I owe you one.”

“Technically, you owe me a couple, but fix me up with that lawyer you work with and I’ll wipe the slate clean.”

“Who’s getting fixed up?”

Her heart fell to her feet, and Persie felt the fluttering in her stomach.  She waited a moment, sensing him behind her.

“I’m fixing Persilla up with a cousin of mine – a handsome doctor.”

“I thought I heard you say ‘lawyer’.”

“He’s both.  What do you think? Wouldn’t Persie make a stunning doctor’s wife?”

Persie guessed her cheeks were as pink as the heels on her feet, and she didn’t turn to face her ex-fiancé quite yet.

“She’d make any man a happy one.”

She spun around, smacking him with one of her wings and followed it up with one across his cheek.


Rea’s Family Tree

Rea“What’s the point?”  Rea kept her gaze upon the tree ahead of her.  “Grammy, why put plastic eggs on the branches?  You don’t expect us to climb up and get them anyway.”

Eighteen going on ten, Rea found this entire tradition to be nothing short of ridiculous.  Why couldn’t her family be normal and fill eggs with money and candy?  Instead, for the first week of Spring, her family adorns a tree in honor of their ancestral lineage.

“Why can’t we start using different colors,” she asked.  “I’m sure Granny Kate wouldn’t mind being purple this year.”

Her grandmother smirked and coughed to cover a laugh.

“Blue for the men, pink for the ladies.”

Rea stared at the multitude of eggs on the bottom few branches and pondered aloud.  “I’m surprised you can find any more room up there.  Especially if Justine keeps popping out kid after kid.”

I need to go help your mother in the kitchen.”  Her grandmother kissed her cheek and return inside the one-story rancher. 

This was Rea’s first year as the  “Tree Keeper”, the one to manage the family history records and photos.  It was her task now, as the eldest female in her generation to maintain the list and plan the family reunion.  The worn books were cool to look at; the dresses were so different then and the furniture so detailed.

Even though this was a responsibility of honor and importance, Rea didn’t want it.  After all, she was heading off to college next month.  She didn’t want to be saddled down with tattered books and binders full of cemetery records.  She’d need room for her theatre programs and photo collages of her best friends.  All of this “stuff” would only keep her locked in the lives of people in the past instead of focusing on the ones she loved in the present.

Rea plopped on the wicker chair and stared through the intense sun glare.  “The tree does look beautiful,” she had to admit, “but next year I’m definitely putting a purple egg in Granny’s Kate’s spot.”  She smiled and joined the family that were still there.



Rosa and Those She Loves


Rosa didn’t want to go; however, the time had finally arrived. She stared at her grandfather’s pocket watch and counted along with each tick-tock.


“Come now, Rosa, we’ll be late.”


She accepted the hand offered to her and smiled in response to Patric’s pleading eyes. She’d loved him at first sight and knew without a doubt that they’d spend the rest of their lives together. Here they stood on the precipice of a life-changing choice. If even one of them hesitated, well that was something she had no desire to contemplate.


“Let’s go,” she replied. “I just needed one last look.”


“You spent your childhood here,” Patric said as he wrapped her in a supportive embrace. “We had a lot of great memories here.”


She laughed when he whispered in her ear. “Remember how you hid under the bed when my parents came home?”


“Yeah,” he said. “I can’t believe she knew I was there the entire time.”


“That was quite a revelation to announce to us during our engagement party. I thought you were going to turn purple.”


Being near him brought her comfort mixed with utter joy. She rested her head back against his chest and gazed up at her bedroom window. “You think they’re okay with this? Really.”


“Hey,” he said, turning her to face him. “They love you no matter where you live.”


“It doesn’t hurt that they love you too.”


“Eh, yeah, that doesn’t hurt.”


“I love you more though.”


“You better,” he replied through a smirk.


Rosa kissed him softly and brushed the hair from his eyes. “Always.”


“I’ll give you another minute.” He kissed her forehead and slipped his hand from hers, not before giving it a squeeze.


Memorable moments from her 30 years of life flashed before Rosa’s eyes. The peeled paint on the siding refreshed and the flowers bloomed as she recalled her father teaching how to ride a bike. She remembered the day her parents brought home the German Shepard that became her best friend. Rosa grabbed her remaining piece of luggage and rubbed her fingers over the “For Sold” sign before joining her fiancé on the beginning of their journey.

Bridget: Eire She Goes

Bridget Bridget sat on the bench and cried.  Not three hours earlier, she waved goodbye to her parents and grandparents as the ship left County Cork.  She didn’t know what to expect when she arrived in America.  Had no clue whether the photos her aunt and uncle sent were accurate representations.  She was going to care for her young cousins, be their nurse and caretaker.  Her aunt recently got involved in societal organizations while her uncle worked very long hours.  

It didn’t take much convincing for her parents to agree to their daughter emigrating to America.  In fact, they’d have one less mouth to feed, body to clothe, and person to house.  She’d miss them and they her, but this was best for all involved.  Didn’t mean she wasn’t terrified of the choice she’d made.  As she sat alone on the massive ship and stared out at the water, she wondered if she’d chosen correctly.  

“Bridget Keily.”  

The brash male voice stumbled over a last name that was common in Ireland.  It will take some getting used to, she realized.  She clutched tight to her woven satchel and walked toward the stairway.   

“It’s Kelly,” she explained.  

“What?” the man replied, clearly uninterested.  

“Kelly.  It’s pronounce Kell-ey.  Not Keel-ey.”  

He merely looked at her over the rim of his glasses and jotted down a note on his pad of paper.  “This way,” he said.  

Bridget noticed every detail of the damp, cramped stairwell.  Dark and dreary, the light faded more and more with every descent.  The wooden stairs creaked and the boat swayed, causing the young emigrant to grab hold of the cold, metal banister.  

“In here,” he instructed.  He pointed towards a stark, white room filled with cots and medical equipment.  “Hand the woman at the door this,” he said as he put a folded paper in her hand.  “Then, wait your turn until the doctor calls for you.  When you’re done, someone will direct you where to find your luggage and then your room.  Safe travels.”  

And with that he was gone, as distant a sight as the homeland now so far away.  Bridget sensed the emotions building inside of her and shook them away.  She was seventeen years old.  Old enough to get married, according to her grandmother.  Definitely old enough to travel by herself to an unknown land.  “You’re pretty enough,” her grandmother told her before she left.  “You’ll marry someone decent.  Just don’t ruin your reputation before then.”

 Bridget laughed at her grandmother’s “advice”.   “Marry someone decent,” she repeated with a shake of her head.  She walked towards the door and slammed right into a handsome doctor.



Calipea and the In-Flight Surprise

Peacock pendant with accents of turquoise, orange, silver and blue

Peacock pendant with accents of turquoise, orange, silver and blue

Calipea boarded the airplane, her carry-on luggage a little larger than normal.  As she struggled to make it fit in the overhead compartment, a friendly flight attendant grinned and said, “We have room further down.  I’ll handle it for you.”

“Great,” Calipea thought.  “Now I’ll have to wait for everyone else to clear out before I can walk down and get my bag.”  Her headache continued to increase in intensity, and she longed for the lights to dim and the flight to take off.  She found her window seat assignment, pulled out her eye mask, and tucked her messenger bag tight under the seat in front of her.  She rested her head back and took one last look at the snow-capped mountains to the east.  Raising her hand to the window, she pressed it gently, closed her eyes, and whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!”

The unexpected, yet familiar, voice startled Calipea enough to slam her elbow against the armrest.  As she rubbed the soreness from her now tingling funny bone, the soon-to-be West Coast resident glared at her one-time boyfriend and evidently, her flying companion.

“Brayden, what are you doing here?”

“I’m headed to California.”

She struggled to keep her voice low.  “Why?”

“Why  not?”

And that right there was one of the main reasons she’d ended their relationship.  He played emotional games more than any guy she’d ever met but could always come off seeming charming.  It annoyed the crap out of her.

“You expect me to believe,” she replied with anger brimming, “that you decide to visit California the same time I’m moving out there?”

“I didn’t say visiting.  You said visiting.”

Her head pounded with enough ferocity to make her ears throb.  She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes, hoping this was all some horrible nightmare.

“Still here,” he retorted.  “I’m exhausted, though.  Can we catch up later?”

He laid his head back, sighed, and closed his eyes.

Calipea watched him for a minute, making sure this was actually happening.  Inching closer towards the window seat, she tried to distance herself from her ex.  She glanced down at the turquoise bracelet that once belonged to her grandmother and sought strength from the wise elder.  Though Calipea always had a fascination for the city of Angels, she never swayed from the rich Native American culture that provided wisdom and spirituality.  Looking at the man asleep in the seat next to her, Calipea knew that she’d be in need of both very soon.

*Interested in purchasing the necklace and a copy of the story? Visit my Etsy site.*

Francesca’s Melody


Francesca didn’t want to go out tonight.  She had too much work to get done at home.  There was laundry still to finish, end tables to dust, and vacuuming that needed attention.  However, tonight’s event couldn’t be missed.  Primarily because it was her wedding anniversary.  Instead of staying in her sweatpants for the evening, she’s dressed in her formal attire and rummaging through her jewelry box for the black & pink necklace that matched her outfit.

“For Heaven’s sake,” she grunted.  “It was in here yesterday!”

“Frannie, we’re going to be late.”

George, her husband of 20 years, stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

“We’re fine,” she retorted.  “Stop worrying.  We’re never late.”

“There’s an accident on 95.  Which means we’ll have to take the Boulevard.  Adding on an additional 10 minutes to our travel.”

She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath.  “Ah, there you are!”  She grabbed hold of the shimmering necklace and held it delicately towards the light.

“You always look so beautiful when you wear that.”

No matter how frustrated she may get with him, staying mad at George was never an option.  “Will you help me?” she asked.  Being diagnosed with Parkinson’s two years ago through her for a loop, but it was George who kept her sane.  George who held her hands, even though they frequently shook.  It was George who sat beside her when they told their children the news.  George was then and is now her rock.

Though the 45 year-old mechanic’s hand were rough, his touch remained gentle and precise.  She’d fallen hard the moment she’d seen him.  Those skin-tight jeans covered in oil and reeking of gasoline added masculinity and allure from a distance.  He’d winked at her, and the modest 22 year-old child that she was blushed at bright shade of pink.  She didn’t give him her number, but he found her through a friend of a friend who quickly thereafter was no longer a friend.  She was timid, shy, and unused to pursued romantically.  Friendship formed first, then love.  Flash forward twenty years, and they’re celebrating two decades of marriage.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

Francesca turned to face her darling husband and kissed him square on the lips.  “I’m glad you never gave up on me.”  She kissed his cheek and reached for the ankle-length black trench coat on the chair.  He grabbed it and held it out for her.  As she adjusted the collar and pulled the thick brunette locks from underneath, Frannie smiled in response to the comforting support of George’s hands on her shoulders.

“No need to be nervous,” he offered.  “You’ll do great.  You always do.”

Before they walked out of the bedroom door, George kissed his wife’s left hand and told her, with a twinkle in his eye, “besides…if you can sing to me at our wedding, then you can do it in front of total strangers.”

Francesca shook her head, held the magenta-colored pendant in her hand, and laughed.

The Key to Marie’s Heart

Marie's Key

Marie sat on the wicker chair and stared out at the Atlantic Ocean.  She knew unquestionably that this beach house was home despite the fact that her residence was situated an hour away.  The vacation neared its completion, yet she was comforted to know that she’d be returning next month.  As time passed and everyday stresses worked on her nerves, she longed for the beach.  There’s something so calming and melodic while watching the waves splash against the pebbled shoreline.  The rhythm frequently lulled her to sleep while creating imaginative scenes in her mind.

Though not an artist by profession, Marie revels in art through music, theatre, and a knack for being crafty! As she gazed at the beautiful sunset, she felt a connection more powerful than any other time in her life.  The rays of light kissed the water’s surface and twinkled with every movement.  She allowed the daydream to take its course, so she closed her eyes and rested her head against the interlaced chair.

Magic.  Beauty.  Imagination.  The carnival music resonated from the pier even blocks away from where Marie stood.  She stared at her painted toenails that stuck out of the bejeweled, khaki-colored sandals.  The cotton dress that flowed from her recently larger frame could use some adjustments.  Regardless of the ample room, the dress remained one of Marie’s favorites.  An ocean-blue background with ivory trimming.  The necklace that brushed against her collarbone reminded her of how precious each moment is.  The key-shaped pendant with a fleur-de-lis center symbolized love in its truest sense – the key to unlocking your heart resides in the most mystical of places.

Marie opened her eyes and wiggled her red-painted toes.  Reaching for her wine glass, she heard the front door open and the beautiful sounds of her boys’ laughter filled the air.  She raised her glass towards the sky and toasted to the joy that filled her heart.

*I purchased the lovely pendant from jewelry artists Bob & Kristi Dengler.  They have a variety of other beautiful pieces.  Please visit their website, www.RobertKristi.com, to peruse their collection.*