20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


2 Comments

Time to say good-bye

awake
in darkness
time
unknown

eye-lids heavy
senses not
awakened

but I see you
at the end of
my bed

wake my body
wake my mind
am I dreaming

I will not
accept
death

you are here
we do have
today
tomorrow
the day
after

have you really
been taken
from me

your silhouette
shimmers
before me
unmoving

only
outstretched
hand

elegiac
I am not
scared

I smile
whispery tears
fall
from my eyes
and touch my cheeks

has life been
so cruel
to take you away
to leave me
alone

have you gone?

you gaze
upon me
blurred
yet
translucent

real

smiling
reaching out

if I rise
come to you
will my body
liquefy
into yours

I want to reach out
touch my finger tips
to yours once more

where shall
you take me

are you asking
me to be with you
for eternity

to be cradled
in your arms
as before

I shall
join your
shadow in the
darkness
of early morn

my stomach knots
I do not fight

your strength is
what
I need

make contact
let me feel
your touch

my life is
nothing without
you

I will join you
I shall melt
into the image
I see before me

I shall once more
hear your voice
feel your soft breath
against
my brow

I will join you
don’t fade
wait for me

wait


9 Comments

The man in the window

 

The man in the window…

June 6, 2012 by  | 16 Comments

 

It’s no secret , while I’m going through rehab and recovery I’m staying at my mom and dads . Growing up here was rather unsettling at times , and grand at others . An old story my dad would tell us was “Peg leg Wilson ” a made up tail about an old guy with a wooden leg . I wont lie , it scare the crap out of me and I think the other kids as well . We grew up in an old two-story house with plenty of noises on its own , without the manufacture of them . My younger brother and I shared a bedroom , it was the biggest bedroom in the house . It had a small closet in one of the corners that I was always scared of . When the lights went off the noises always began .

I have visited my mom and dad over the years many times and always felt a presence around me . This time visiting I am feeling this a little more , but i put it off due to my body healing . The other day I was wandering around the yard , Taking pictures of some flowers . I actually posted them on 20 lines under the heading of Sights of summer . Anyway , I walked into the garage and heard something , I listened a little closer , It was my name . Someone was calling my name in a weak whisper two or three times . I looked over towards the window of the garage and quickly took a picture . I couldn’t see anything so I blew it off to my imagination and returned inside . Today I looked at the picture , to my amazement there is someone in the window . Now I showed this to my mom ( it’s no one I know ) And she tells me it looks identical to a man who lived here before them . Here’s the thing that has my skin crawling …He died in this house the day I was born….

This is the presence following me….I know now I’m not crazy…..

 

COPYRIGHT…

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This blog contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this blog may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher


13 Comments

Ghost Hunt

Kate was sure they’d all stopped breathing.

Poppy’s hand crept into hers and stayed.

 

“There’s something here,” Jack whispered. “Listen.”

 

A rushing noise. A distant sea, or the wind, or a thousand souls sighing.

Would they have caught the sound without his instruction?

 

Kate licked her lips, swallowed hard,

Natural scepticism pending.

Jack’s eyes flew open, closed again. So fast, did she imagine it?

He would be enjoying this, delighted to be proved right. Insufferable later.

 

Sound intensified, raised to a whine, a scream – and

A glass on the sideboard shattered.

 

“She’s gone,” Jack said.

Kate felt goose bumps along her spine, “It’s bloody freezing,” and felt Poppy shiver beside her.

“The spirits always have an effect on temperature.” Jack smiled.

 

“OK, you’ve proved your point. Can we go now?” and she turned, expecting to find the door.

 

 


2 Comments

The Man in The Window

I have another slight image of Theodore McMillon…This picture isn’t as cut and dry as the other , If you look you will see the image in the window . This is the same window , just earlier in the day and a little different pose. I have been researching this story for a couple of weeks and almost have enough compiled to continue my story. I do also have one picture of Theodore in another window , I don’t know exactly why he’s always in windows , but I will find out why..!

Please stay tuned for the next chapter in The Man in the Window

 


2 Comments

The Story!

The sound of the footsteps,

Thum.. Thum.. Thum..

On the ruined street I stand on,

Watching the few people who cross by me,

And all those others who at once look at me,

Find me dreadful,

And the street deserted,

Hence recount their steps,

And walk away.

I’m dreadful,

Not my fault, I must say.

Ask that artist!

Who created me.

Ask those butchers!

Who for earning a bit of money,

Destructed me.

Ask those bureaucrats,

Who never cared for me.

But I’m here,

Hearing the sound of the footsteps,

But I know looking at me,

Only those few would cross me.

I am indeed, have indeed,

Become the ghost.

I’m the old clay statue,

Of the once ruler,

Of the territory I belong to,

Who died,

Leaving me to live a wretched life,

And finally die as well.

I hear you coming….

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 3,583 other followers

%d bloggers like this: