A collection of short stories and journalistic commentaries depicting my simple life
and how I fit in with the modern day universe of our times


Stacey gently placed another blade of grass from off of his grave into their Wedding book.

You could easily count the many times she had visited him by the blades of grass collected within it. Every Sunday for the last two years, she would kneel at his graveside and ask him to come home with her, just like the little blades of grass. She would carry those tiny symbols of love in her hand until she placed them in the book.

This time, she sat and opened the book up, unclasped her hand and the blade of grass wasn't there. Panicking, she stood up and brushed at her clothing, desperately hoping that it would fall to the floor within her sight, but she saw nothing.

Tears quickly formed in her eyes as she cried his name, "James, James please help me find it!"

She looked frantically for that little blade of grass. She rushed to the bedroom and whipped the pink chenille bedspread onto the floor. She climbed on the bed and began removing her clothes like a mad woman. She shook her blouse and watched the white sheet for one tiny little green stripe to appear.

She shook her skirt, her long brown hair and then her underclothes as she removed them. She saw nothing at all and fell on to the cold sheet, naked, broken hearted and sobbing. She closed her eyes and begged for a few moments, even a kiss on the cheek would have let her know that James still looked down on her from heaven above.

Soon Stacey sat up on the bed and thought out loud, "You really have to quit this foolishness; he is gone, never coming back, ever!"

Still hurting, she grabbed at her green robe from the bedpost and went to run herself a warm bath. She turned on the taps and poured in half a bottle of liquid soap.

The flowery scent of the soap seemed to calm her as she tied up her hair.

Sitting on the edge of the bath with her feet in the water, she dropped the robe from over her shoulders and eased herself slowly into the bubbles.

As the water in the bath reached up to her neck, she spun the taps off with her toes. She closed her eyes and listened to the memory of his voice. She heard the whispers he would make to her in their bed at night.

He would individually name the intimate parts of her body, describing them to her with words like soft, perfect, beautiful and delicious. Stacey wanted James back so badly. She looked down at her soapy knees and remembered the feel of his body brushing against her inner thighs.

Making soft moans as she gripped tightly onto the claw foot bath's edges with her hands now. She could feel James inside her and she could hear more of his whispers. The warm water was vibrating around her. She could feel his energy on her breasts as her nipples began to rise.

Her moans began to get quicker and louder. Her body was writhing in the water as it was splashing out over the sides. She lifted her feet onto the wall above the taps, her toes bent as the muscles stiffened in her legs. She cried out his name as the tremors kept coming, over and over again.

Her last tremor was more like a quake. She felt the juices flow from within her as she now collapsed into a satisfaction she hadn't felt in such a long, long time.

Stacey lay there contented now, just soaking and relaxing in the water. She only thought of James. She knew he had just visited her. She held her left hand up and wiped the soap away from off her cheek. Looking down at her wedding ring, she caught glimpse of a little green tip sticking out from underneath the gold.

She gently twisted the ring forward on her finger revealing the full splendour of that single blade of grass. She smiled and said, "I love you so much James, and I know I will meet you again soon enough."

Neighbours had often gossiped about that young widow; who danced alone in her garden every Sunday afternoon in James’ memory. Although a man was never seen, she was just far too happy, according to the nosy folks of Sycamore Lane.

I guess they just couldn’t realise, there are many manifestations of that wonderful world of undying love.

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Its my own fault really, its all about what I see in the world, and how it all translates for me.

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