writer's relief

[Lt.Mac]

Put it here
Poetry, stories, haiku,big dumb limricks- whatever---


(Mac sitting at desk waving hands"Oh oh me first , me first")
From Bloodline- manuscript in progress-

When Jenna entered the dinning room the professor and his family were already seated at the table. ?First official day as a nanny and you?re late for dinner.? Drake smiled as he came over to pull out the chair for her.
?Sorry Professor, this place is a little confusing.?
?Tell me about it.? Abby chuckled. ?I think I went around in circles four times before I found the dining room.?
Signora Antony came in the room carrying a large pan. She set it on the side table and lifted the lid. The aroma drifted across the room.
?That smells delicious, Signora.? Abby smiled as the cook placed the first plate on the table in front of Drake. ?What is it??
?Cacciatore di pollo, Signora.?
?Huh?? The boys looked at each other.
Jenna leaned over and whispered. ?Chicken, guys, pollo means chicken.?
As Signora Antony served the food Vito came in with a bottle of wine from the wine cellar. ?Chianti Signore. Bottled in your own vineyard, nineteen-fifty-nine.? He uncorked the bottled and poured a tiny bit into Drake?s glass. Drake lifted the glass and swirled the wine around.
?Good thing we went to all those wine tasting parties at the dean?s house.? He winked, then slowly tasted the wine. ?Wow! This is the best wine I?ve ever had. You should taste this Abby it?ll knock you socks off.? Vito poured a little more into Drake?s glass and then into Abby?s. The elderly butler walked over the Jenna?s seat.
?Signorina??
?Oh. Si, por favore! She smiled. ?Just a small taste.?

[hlndr]

Heart gifts


It’s not the things that can be bought
That are life’s richest treasure.
It’s just the little “heart gifts”
That money cannot measure.
A cheerful smile, a friendly word,
A sympathetic nod
Are priceless little treasures
From the storehouse of our God.
They are the things that can’t be bought
With silver or with gold,
For the thoughtfulness and kindness
And love are never sold...
They are the priceless things in life
For which no one can pay,
And the giver finds rich recompense
In giving them away.

[Lt.Mac]

Paper, paper everywhere
and not a drop of ink.:cool:

[daisy696]

The Loss


He stands alone on soft white sands, with broken cliffs behind.

As mother ocean sends her breath to mix with his in kind.

His emerald eyes stare out to sea, though knowing that shes gone.

And longs to hold her in his arms, to know their rythem song.

The pounding rythem of his heart, keeps beat with raging winds;

that blows the oceans roaring waves apon his sands of sin.

He longs to feel her golden locs, his hands in silky hair.

To kiss away her hurts, her fears, to caress her face with care.

He stands at home on soft white sands, with broken cliffs behind.

He's come to bury his lady lass, at home in Ireland.

[appeace]

I am in awe!! What talent! Thank you so much all for sharing your gifts with we who are so very creatively challenged:)

[Lt.Mac]

Daisy- Ireland a subject most dear to my heart- love the pic too. (swooning)

Oh Ireland

Somewhere betwixt the dusk and dawn
the ancient faeries come,
We fly away, hand and hand,
To my love, dear Ireland.

Waiting in obscurity,
Surrounded by the sea,
She welcomes home her children
to the emerald green.

Embrace me, goddess Ire,
Sing your Celtic lullaby,
Cradled soft, on faerie wings,
My silent dreams will fly.

Somewhere betwixt the dusk and dawn,
My heart will hold this place,
For nowhere is my soul at peace,
Than in this mystic space.

[Lt.Mac]

Heather



Heather, a small blue flower.
growing wild and free,
across the Highlands.

Heather, a girl with hazel eyes and auburn hair,
Roaming wild and free,
across the Highlands.

Heather is a flower with
Hazel eyes and auburn hair,
transcending the Highlands,
Blooming.

[Lt.Mac]

A View From the Road



Dawn steals across white sands,
Ravaged landscapes throw back the dark shield of night.
The heart sinks as the morning mist rises.
Crumbled steel smolders along the dry banks
of a mortal river.
Streams of red flow free,
Remembrances of a once proud and ancient spirit
brutally silenced by relentless tyranny, hatred,
Released from the talons of an iron eagle,
endless burning rain falls on innocent and evil.
Truth and compassion
unseated by tears of sacrifice which quickly fade
into the coarseness of conflict.
Forsaken is all life.
A great land,
birthplace of all rational civilization.
Eaten alive by arrogance
Where is the wisdom of the ages?
What of Tennessee?s light?
Will it guide into a peaceful end or
an indifference to the anguish?

[Lt.Mac]

Martial Love

You fumble,
quiet,
in the sinking moonlight,
trying not to wake me.
Collecting treasures that fill your ruck.

Our love,
misplaced as it may be,
burns deep.
Unnamed,
Unmended.
You inhabit my heart,
my proverbial dove,
as surely as she occupies yours,
your lovely Lady.

Secretly, I watch.
Hoping to paint the mirror image
upon the memory of my eyes.
Red cap on your head
tells a story of the duty
you choose to live,
and love.

Silver wings,
Gleam in the twilight from the window.
A soft touch,
a written kiss left against the lamp.
In the dawn,
Alone, I cry,
You slip away,
You never let me say good-bye.

Mother Bell shakes the night,
Uncle Sam heralds your return.
Beside me,
at the gate,
Your brothers? tears pave the way
for a hero?s state.

Beneath the stars,
Your love,
for her ends at last.
Life
spilled out on white sands.
Mine,
For you,
will never die.
And yet,
Still,
you never let me say good-bye.

[appeace]

simply AWSOME

[Velda]

Lt. Mac...nice one regarding Ireland.

[destiny]

The men moved like swirling wraiths of evil, their dark clothing blending into the silent night. Quickly, they converged upon the single man, whose muscular physique couldn't be hidden by the layers of clothing he wore. Duncan Macleod steathily rose from where he had, only moments before, been contemplating his life and what he needed to do to rid himself of the soul eating creatures that seemed to follow him wherever he went. Now, it would seem things were to become even more complicated as he moved quickly forward, withdrawing his sword as he covered the soft heather strewn ground. He moved to stand next to the man who was greatly outnumbered, and placed his body into a solid fighting stance.

"I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, and I'm here to help if you need me," he calmly remarked as he drew his sword up, strong fingers gripping the hilt.

The man turned, and Duncan felt of frizzure of shock race through him as he looked into almost animalistic eyes. The golden centers seemed to glow with sparks of energy, and he growled low in his throat. "I fight my own battles, MacLeod, leave me." With that he turned and faced the men, his energy concentrated on them alone. Duncan took a step back, knowing that a warrior would not want a stranger to interfere. Even so, he vowed to help this man if it came to that. For some strange reason, maybe his own innate ability to know when to trust someone, he felt this warrior was on the side of good.

The man withdrew a sword, and Duncan was surprised to see it glow golden as sparks of energy enamated from it. As he threw back his cloak, the stranger's body seemed to grow, the muscles bulging under his dark clothes. Duncan knew this man wasn't Immortal because he hadn't felt the buzz of warning that another was nearby. He watched with admiration as the warrior wiped out two of the men with one quick movement. Stepping further back, he lowered his sword, and thought, with a laugh, that maybe this one didn't need any help after all.

[Lt.Mac]

ooooh, My mystery sense is tingling. MORE,MORE!!!!!

[destiny]

Thanks, Mac. I wrote that one in the spur of the moment, but I'll try to get more up as soon as I can. Life, these past few days, has been particularly draining. Sometimes writing is like manna to my soul, though, when I'm feeling slightly wiped.

Thanks again. :)

[Lt.Mac]

I know the feeling quite well.:)-
first five pages of a short story- set in "where else"
more later didn't want to over load



The Secret of Dark Mountain


A strong breeze came across the loch and the ripples in the water grew with the intensity of the air. The white caps danced along the current as they rose and fell beneath the light of the full moon. The far off shoreline lay cloaked beneath the dark silhouette of the highland mountains. Standing at the edge of the shore was a young girl with light auburn hair that reached down to the black leather belt wrapped around her waist. Into the belt was tucked a sword almost twice her size. Her skirt bore the tartan of her father?s clan and the dark blue cloak that draped from her shoulders was fastened with a gold barouche inset with three small white moonstones.
Mary MacKenzie was no ordinary girl. At age sixteen, she was no taller than a girl of ten or twelve but with a sword she was invincible, besting men three times her size. Many times she begged her father to let her to go with him into battle but he would not allow it. Dozens of the other women fought side by side with the men and Mary wanted to be no exception. Her father explained time and again that he had to keep her safe. He had no sons to carry on the clan leadership and could not risk losing his only heir to war. This, however, only served to make Mary more determined to prove she was a warrior and deserving of the title her father would leave her.
Thunder rumbled loudly across the loch, the veracity of the wind steadily increased and enormous black clouds came rolling in from the north. Mary swung the brown burlap sack down from her shoulder and dropped it into the small fishing boat beside her. She gave the boat a shove out into the water and leapt in. Putting out the oars she headed out across the turbulent waters toward a mysterious place called Dark Mountain. Legend had it that an evil wizard ruled over that mountain and only the greatest warrior in all the Highlands could destroy him. Many of the clan?s men had ventured to Dark Mountain in the past, hoping to be branded with that honor, but none had ever returned.
The wind blew with near gale force, the rain poured down and hailstones pummeled the undersized explorer. The boat was tossed about like a piece of driftwood but Mary held steadfast. She rowed as hard as she could but it seemed that the boat just stood still. After a while Mary decide to let the current take the tiny vessel to where ever it wished until the storm died. If she was to perish in the quest then she was as fully prepared as any other warrior to accept her fate. Worn out and soaked to the bone she huddled down into the center of the boat. Covering her head with her cloak she soon fell asleep.
The warmth of the sun upon her face bid Mary to wake. She found herself lying in a pool at the bottom of the boat, drifting slowly towards the shore. She put out the oars and helped herself along. The natural beauty along the base of the mountain made her forget for a moment why she had come to this side of the loch. A long, thin, pebbled beach stretched all the way to the edge of the mountain and around the bend. The trees along the shore seemed so much greener than those that surrounded her village and patches of blue heather and other wildflowers were spread here and there between the water and the trees.
She ran the craft aground. Mary stood gazing at all that lay before her. How could something so astounding be so evil? She thought to herself. So engrossed she was in the splendor of the land that she did not notice the young man who had stepped out of the forest a short distance down the beach and perched himself on a large cluster of boulders just a few feet behind her.
?Pardon me, Lass.?
Startled, Mary turned and instinctively drew her sword. ?Who are you?? She demanded, ready to strike.
?I believe Lassie, I should be asking you that question. You, after all, are the trespasser.? Mary lowered her sword but kept guarded and ready.
?I?m Mary MacKenzie, from the village across the loch.?
?Hmm.? The young man smirked and brushed the hair from his eyes. ?Loch Fannich is impossible to navigate in a storm. Ya expect me to believe such a tiny thing as you crossed alone??
?Aye, I did!? Mary thrust the tip of her sword into the ground. ?I may be tiny but don?t be fooled. I can best any man in my village.?
?So Lass, you?re stronger than ya seem, eh?? The young man shifted his weight and leaned back on his elbow. ?You?re headstrong I?ll give ya that. But why are ya here trespassing on me land??
?Is this not the place called Dark Mountain??
?Aye Lass, it is.?
?And does there not live here a great evil wizard??
?Aye Lass, a wizard lives atop this mountain but I don?t know that he?s all that evil??
?Legend says he?s wicked and powerful. I?ve come to conquer him and claim the honor for myself.?
The young man laughed softy. ?So it?s honor your after? Exactly what honor is it that you?ll be claimin???
?To be the greatest warrior in all the Highlands.?
?Really? You?? He chuckled.
?Aye, me!? She crossed her arms and glared at him with her bright green eyes. ?You?ve got a problem with that??
?No problem, Lass. No problem at all.? The young man rose from his seat and slowly walked towards her. Still very defensive Mary raised her sword again. The young man immediately threw up his hands and took several steps backwards. ?Whoa there now Lass! I?ll not hurt ya!? He held out his hand. ?A bit hot-tempered aren?t we??
Giving him a fearless stare, Mary put the sword back in its sheath and shook the young man?s hand, squeezing it as hard as she could.
?I?m Ranald, it?s nice to meet ya Miss Mary MacKenzie.? He looked her over from head to toe and sighed deeply. ?You?re drenched. Won?t ya come to my hut and sit by the fire to dry yourself??
?Thank you sir but no. I have a quest to be gettin? on with.?
?Surely it can wait an hour or two. You?ll catch your death of cold and then what kind of warrior would ya be, sick with fever??
?I suppose that?s true enough. Alright then, but only until my clothes are dry.?
?Come on then.? Mary followed him into the woods.
? I warn ya, no tricks, lest ya see just how well I can wield this sword.?
?Aye Lass, no tricks. Any woman who can lift a sword twice her size is not one to be reckoned with.?
It was not a long walk to the cottage but under the shade of the trees, without the warmth of the sunlight, Mary began to shiver. Ranald put his dry cloak around her shoulders and they continued on the path up the mountain.
Once inside Ranald built a fire and gave Mary one of his shirts to put on. He took some rope and tied one end to a peg in the wall and the other to the window shutter. He hung a blanket on the rope so Mary would have some privacy. While she changed he put water on for tea and set out some bread. Mary peeked her head out from behind the blanket.
?Do ya have something to hang my clothes on so they?re close to the fire? I want them to dry quickly.?
?I?ll take care of that. You just come sit down and get some hot tea and food into ya.? Mary stepped from behind the curtain and Ranald laughed out loud. ?You are a wee little thing aren?t ya?? The young man?s shirt almost touched the floor and the sleeves went down past her knees. Her wet hair enhanced the smallness of her face, which in turn made her green eyes seem even bigger and brighter.
?Don?t laugh! God saw fit to make me this way and I?m quite happy with it! At least I?m not as big as a tree trunk.? Mary sat at the table and snatched a slice of bread from the plate. ?I?ve never seen a man as tall as you before. As handsome as ya are, from down here one would need a ladder to get a closer look at ya.?
The young man smiled as he hung her clothes on a chair in front of the hearth.
?So Lass, ya think I?m handsome do ya??
?Not much more than others I?ve known, but there?s something about you. I?m not sure what it is, quite yet, there?s just something different.? Mary smiled and bit into the bread. ?I mean besides how tall ya are.?
?I see. I suppose I?ll take that as a compliment and leave it as such.? Ranald reached for his, now slightly damp, cloak and headed for the door. ?I have work to do in the woods. You can stay here as long as you need. I would suggest that ya get some rest. I won?t be back for a couple of days so just make yourself at home until you?re ready to get on with your quest.? He lifted the latch on the wooden door. ?Twas? nice meetin? ya, Mary Mackenzie.? Out he went leaving Mary alone.
?He is, for certain, a strange man.? She whispered to herself then sighed as she poured the hot water from kettle into her cup. She bit the corner of her lip and smiled as she set the kettle back on the fire. ?But it should be a crime to be that handsome.? Taking Ranald?s advice she went to lie down on the small bed in the corner of the room.
It was dark when Mary woke. The fire had nearly gone out but her clothes were quite dry. She put a new log on the fire and quickly dressed. As she buckled her scabbard around her waist the hilt on the sword caught the flickering of the flames and projected a beam on light into the far corner of the small room. Through the corner of her eye she saw something familiar.
A beautiful wooden chest, adorned with carvings of ancient writing, sat in the dismal cover of darkness and cobwebs. Peeking out of this chest was a wedge of what looked to be tartan from her clan. Slowly she lifted the lid. Inside, folded into a corner sat a man?s kilt. Mary held it up in the soft firelight. Now she was sure, it was the Mackenzie tartan but what was it doing here? Did it belong perhaps to one of the warriors that came to the island, one of those that never returned? She carefully put the cloth back where she found it and closed the lid.

[cbas]

I'm awestruck as well; everyone who has posted original work here is brilliant!
Thank you for sharing your awesome talents.:cool:

[Lt.Mac]

Okay Ya'll----next set of pages from "dark mountain"::)


With her heart pounding, she gathered up her things and headed out into the woods. Finding a path to follow she started up the mountain.
Ranald had been so kind to her, how could he have been the one who had killed her kinsmen all these years? No, he couldn?t be, he wasn?t even old enough to have been here that long, it had been ten years since the last. Then she thought, what if he was the wizard? What if he was trying to lull her into his confidence so that he could prevent her from defeating him. She had never seen a Scotsman that tall before, neither had she ever seen a man that handsome. Just because he appeared young and handsome doesn?t mean he?s not a wizard. They can appear in any form they wish. Then there was the sensation that she had known him before. As if there was a connection between their souls, it made her feel very uneasy.
The moon was full and high in the sky so the path was well lit. Mary watched the woods around her with every step, part of her hoped to run into the mythical wizard and part of her was afraid that she would. Owls and other nighttime creatures called out through the darkness, pausing only briefly now and again.
Finally the sun began to rise over the mountain ridge and the dreadful night sounds ceased. The forest gradually transformed from murky darkness to a rich green wonderland filled with the sound of the morning birds chirping and fluttering about. She took no notice of a small gray squirrel that scampered across the toe of her boot as she sat on an old dead stump for a moment to rest. Since daybreak a hawk had been following her. It would circle around her when she stopped and then continue on when she did. It would disappear for a short time into the trees and then return to the heavens just above her path. She was beginning to wonder whether it was following her or maybe, was she following it.
The height of the sun in the sky told Mary it was close to midday and she feeling a bit weary so she stopped to rest in a small clearing which was covered with beautiful blue and white heather. Tired and thirsty she sat beneath a tree then she realized that she had left the bag with her provisions on the boat. It wouldn?t hurt to be hungry for a while she thought, but she had forgotten her fresh water as well. Looking up, she saw that the hawk was, of course, still with her. Mary was becoming very annoyed by its presence and called out to him. ?Hey, you up there! Mr. Hawk! Ya seem to be so fine on following me, why don?t ya show me where I can find some food or water!? To her amazement the hawk landed on a tree branch across the clearing and screeched at her. She stood up and cautiously approached the bird. Half way through the tiny flower laden vale she noticed a patch of brambles just below the branch where the hawk was sitting. ?Well, I?ll be. Ya did find food!? Reaching the berry patch, Mary gathered up several handfuls of berries. After her scrumptious meal took the small brown purse that hung from her belt and stored some of the berries in it for later. The hawk was circling again and Mary took it as a sign that they needed to be moving on.
Nightfall was returning when Mary came upon another small cottage. Above its thatched roof circled the hawk. Landing on the chimney he screeched at her again as if to say welcome. A very old man appeared in the open door.
?Come in Lass, you must be tired.? The old man reached out his hand towards her. ?The path up here is very long and difficult.?
?Yes, it is actually.? Mary took his hand and pointed up at the hawk. ?Is that your bird??
?Not really.? The old man explained, ?He does try to look out for me. I suppose he thought it a bit strange that someone was on the path. There?s seldom any visitor around here.?
?Well. I didn?t come to visit. I am on a mission.? She proclaimed proudly as she followed the old man into the house. The inside of the cottage was cluttered with bottles and jars filled with all manner of things, as was the table that sat in the center of the room. There was a large steaming cauldron over the fire and in the far corner a large book, which sat open, on a pedestal. In the other corner was a door. Mary assumed that it lead to a sleeping chamber as there was no bed to be seen in the main part of the cottage.
?A mission??
?Aye, a mission.?
?And just what sort of mission calls to ya??
?I plan to conquer the great evil wizard that rules over this mountain.?
?Oh, I see.? The old man whispered. ?So you?re a warrior then are ya??
?Aye, old man and just who exactly are you? Are you the evil wizard??
?That is a fair enough question, my name is Gollwyn and an evil wizard I most certainly am not.?
?Tis? a pleasure to meet ya Gollwyn, I?m Mary Mackenzie from the village across the loch.?
Gollwyn handed her a cup of tea and then poured one for himself.
?Such a small girl you are, Miss Mary, to be a warrior on such a dangerous quest.?
Mary set the cup down and rolled her eyes. ?Again with me size! Why is everyone so obsessed with my height??
The old man sat opposite her, pausing to sip his tea before he answered her question. ?It is a bit unusual my dear. Your height that is, you must admit you are not even as big as your sword. One would not expect a warrior?s strength from as wee a lass as you.? He paused to sip his tea again. ?But that can be an advantage you know.? The old man stretched his rickety old body across the table to get in closer to her ear. ?You have the element of surprise.?
Mary smiled a little as she swallowed some of her tea. ?At last! Someone who understands.?
?I understand many things, child. I am after all a very old man.?
?I can see that. How long have ya been here on the mountain??
?So long that I can no long count the years.?
?Then ya would know where to find the wizard? Has he ever appeared as a handsome young man?? Mary was beginning to feel sleepy and yawned as the old man began to speak.
?Alas, the wizard can be very tricky. You never know where he will pop up, or when or as who. Traveling on this mountain is wrought with danger and all sorts of mysterious things, Lass. One must keep their wits about them. I can see that you are very tired. You will need some sleep if you want to tangle with the great wizard.? Gollwyn pointed towards the door at the other end of the room. ?Please do lie down and rest in my bed chambers for the night. I?ll sleep out here.? Mary felt so tired that she could barely walk to the other room. Her head was spinning when she opened the door she saw a small straw bed in the center. It was covered with a tattered old quilt that made her dizzy when she looked at it. Struggling to stay conscious she blindly groped her way to the edge of the straw mattress and when she could feel it under her fingers tips, crawled up onto the bed. Unable to hold her eyes open Mary felt her head hit the soft feather pillow and with that she was sound asleep.

[Lt.Mac]

Mary was awakened by the sound of familiar voices calling out her name. It seemed like a dream at first but then the voices became louder.
?Mary!? Some men from the village were shouting. ?We found her! Over here!?
She bolted up, finding herself back in her boat and floating along the shore near her village. Several men were running along the shoreline calling her name, including her father. ?Mary Katherine Mackenzie! Bring that boat back here!?
?Damn that old man.? She mumbled to herself as she picked up the oars and rowed back to the shore, dreading what would be waiting for her. ?He must have put some kind of potion in my tea.?
Her father came out into the water to pull the small craft aground. Before she had a chance to set the oars back inside the boat he was pulling her by the arm onto the sandy bank. ?What do ya think you?re doin?, Lass? Are ya daft?? Mary tried to explain but she couldn?t get a word in edgewise. While they all headed back towards the village, her father continued to lament. ?We?ve been huntin? three days for ya. What do ya mean goin? off like that on your own? We had every man in the village out looking. Ya could have drowned out there on the loch! You know how valuable ya are to me! To us all! My only child lost to an act of stupidity! Where were ya, girl!?
Mary thought of herself as a great warrior, but where he father was concerned she was just a child, to be protected and molded into what he wanted her to be. The past three years had been spent teaching her to make fair business deals and how to settle squabbles within the clan. She was tired of learning diplomacy, cattle and sheep she wanted something more. ?Stop treating me like this, Father!? She finally broke in. ?I?m not a child! I can beat any man here and I?m as good and strong a warrior as you!? She quickened her pace and put some distance between her and the group. Two of the younger men, not much older than she, caught up with her and started asking questions that Mary did not want to answer.
?Come on Mary, where?d ya go??
?Leave me alone, Angus.?
?Tell us.?
?No!?
?Tell us Mary or else we?ll be left to assume ya were meetin? with an enemy.?
?For pity?s sake, Angus, why would I do that?? She quickened her pace even more, getting a few steps ahead of them.
?I don?t know, but people will wonder what ya were doin? out there.? Duncan, the younger of the two men blurted out. ?One might even think ya were meeting a lover.?
?Let?s not go that far now, Duncan.? Angus broke in.
?And what if I was?? Mary stopped to face them.
?That?s not it Mary, we ya know better.? Angus added.
In a low but angry voice she told them the truth. ?Alright then, if ya must know! I went to Dark Mountain! I went to kill the wizard.?
Angus and Duncan stopped dead in their tracks. ?Dark Mountain!? They both simultaneously and quite loudly chanted. Mary motioned to them to be quiet but it was too late, their voices echoed through the trees. Mary?s father came running.
?Dark Mountain? Is that where ya went, young lady??
Mary held her breath and shook her head. There was nothing for her to say, she could see in his eyes how intense his fear and anger was. His stare pierced so deep into her soul that she wished she could sink into the ground and disappear. ?Back to the house with ya, girl.? The tone of his voice was as heart wrenching as having been handed the death penalty. Mary silently turned and ran back to the village.
Several hours passed before her father returned to the house. She had supper waiting for him when he got there. He ate in silence. He wouldn?t even cast an eye in her direction and poor Mary knew better than to try to get his attention when he was in such a state. Afterwards he returned to the village square with the other men. Mary finished the chores and went to bed.
In the morning, her father still would not speak to her and when she went into the village everyone acted strangely. They would stop talking as she approached and then start to whisper when she passed. Poor Mary could not understand why everyone was acting this way. A small boy came running from behind the pub. He was in such a hurry that he didn?t even see Mary and ran right into her. Both went tumbling to the ground. Some older boys came up behind him. ?It?s Magic Mary! Ya touched her Liam! You?ll be bewitched!? They yelled to the boy and then ran off. ?Stay away from us!?
Mary helped the boy up from the ground. ?What was that all about, Lad! Why are they callin? me that??
?Tam says you went to Dark Mountain.?
?And what of it??
?You came back. No one has ever come back.? The small boy glanced at the ground as he finished his answer. ?Alive.?
Mary stooped down to speak with him face to face, though that in itself did not take much stooping. ?There is nothing magic about me. I?m no different now than I was last week. I?m not a demon, a fairy, a witch or any such thing. I?m just the same Mary I?ve always been.?
?But the men at the pub say that you are, and my mother says that the wizard sent you to gather up all the children and carry them away to the mountain.? Mary straightened herself up and then brushed the dirt off the boy?s clothes.
?I?ll be doin? no such thing. Your mother is just spreading old wives tales and the men were most likely drunk. Go back to your friends now.?
?But they think I?m bewitched!?
Mary bent down and whispered. ?Tell them that swimming in the loch will wash it away, since it was accidental.? The boy turned and ran happily down the road but Mary couldn?t shake the anger that was raging in her heart. How could they say such things? She had not changed. She didn?t even get to the wizard?s castle at the top of the mountain, that rickety old man slipped something in the tea and sent her back across the loch.
Three days had passed and still her father continued his silence and the people in the village kept on with their prattling about her being bewitched. Some said she was a demon, some said she a changeling but all believed that her return from the mountain was a sign of impending doom on the village, including her father. Mary sat at the wheel spinning some wool late that night when her father came bursting through the cottage door. ?Get out Mary! Now! Ya must leave here!? Startled, Mary leaped from her seat. ?Why! Tis? nearly midnight! What have I done that you bid me to go!? Gathering up her cloak he grabbed her by the arm and led her out the door and into the woods toward the loch. ?They?re coming for ya!
?Who!?
?The villagers, they?re convinced you?re a witch!? He panted, as they ran into the woods.
?Why would they think that? What proof do they have!?
?The boy.?
?What boy?? Mary stopped dead in her tracks. Her father turned and looked her straight in the eye.
?The one you told to swim in the loch to wash off your magic.?
?But that was just to make the others play with him again.?
?He?s ill with fever and a rash that covers his body entirely.?
?But that?s not my fault. I didn?t do it to him.?
?I believe ya, Lass.? He cupped her tiny face is trembling hand. ?But they won?t. Ya must hide.?
Reaching the shores of Loch Finnach he put her in the small boat. Another storm was brewing in the air and thunder began to clash, lightning struck the middle of the loch revealing the angry villagers decending the hillside carrying all manor of weapons. ?Father! I can?t leave you here!? Mary yelled above the crashing of the skies.
?Never mind about me, Lass!? Her father said holding back with tears in his eyes. He tried to push off the small vessel but Mary held fast onto his shirt.
?Father!?
?Go Lass! Go back to Dark Mountain!? The old warrior tossed her his sword, pryed his daughter?s hand from his shirt and pushed the boat out into the wild, ferocious waters of the stormy loch.
?Father!? Mary called as the boat was quickly carried out on the treacherous current. By the time the crowd had reached the shore she was too far out for them to retrieve. She watched from the distance as they seized her father and led him back to the village. Mary, again, found herself riding out a deadly storm that would have kept even the bravest of men from attempting to cross the loch.

[daisy696]

Lt. Mac - Pleassssssssssssssssssse write more. lol Im really loving this story. I cant wait to read more.:D

[renate]

:):):D:D:

Renate

[renate]

Right On Lt:):):rolleyes:

Renate

[Lt.Mac]

Don'y need to write more -story's been done for a couple of years -I'll just post a piece at a time:p



Once the rain and winds subsided, and the dawning of the day drew nearer, she found her way through the early morning darkness by following the sweet scent of the freshly watered flowers that grew along the shore of the mountain. The sky was beginning to brighten as she stepped out onto the sandy bank. She stood for a moment and sighed, then began down the path that led to Ranald?s cottage.

The mighty Alistar Mackenzie, Chieftain of his clan, beaten and bloody, bound in chains with his arms tied to a crossbar and set out into the square like a common criminal. Yet through it all, Alistar could think of nothing but Mary?s safety. The warmth of the rising sun touched his face and he knew this would be the last time he would feel it. His clansmen gathered around taunting and tormenting him, throwing stones and chanting over and over. ?Demon! Demon!?
His cousin, Merrick, approached him. Lifting the broken man?s head, he stared at him for a moment then whispered. ?The time?s come cousin, that you settle this matter with Gollwyn. Tell them all the truth about Katie and Ranald. Before they stone ya to death, man!?
?I can?t, I won?t! I?ll not put Mary in any further danger. They?ve already condemned her as a witch. Let them kill me in her place and be done with it!?
Merrick turned to the irate mob and called out to them. ?Clansman! Listen! All of you!? The crowd calmed down but only momentarily. ?Alistar has been a good leader. He?s mistreated ne?er of one of ya. He?s been victorious in many a battle and brought this clan great honor. Now ya turn on him? Wishing him death??
A voice cried out from the crowd. ?He helped the witch escape! He?s in co-hoots with her!?
Merrick began to pace around the circle that formed in the center of the people, sword drawn and ready to protect his cousin. ?He was protecting his child, man! Is that not what you?d have done? We have no proof of her witchery.?
Another voice resounded across the square, then another and another. ?My boy is ill, bewitched after touching her!? The mother of the boy shouted.
?Aye, and how else do you explain such strength and power from such a small woman!?
?The devil?s in them both!? Someone wailed and the square became wild with the unruly clan and once more, they turned to throwing stones. Merrick, ducking the onset of fly stones, raised his sword and cried out. ?We are the Clan Mackanzie, do you judge as you wish to be judged!? The stones stop. ?The devils in them? What about you? Is he not present in you? It would seem so, the way you?re acting! We have no proof of any witchery here, but to silence ya we shall banish him!?
The assembly cheered loudly and closed in on the two men. Merrick helped Alistar to his feet. ?Can ya make it man??
?As if I had wings.?
?well hurry than man or those wings will be a reality.? Merrick quickly led his cousin, with the villagers following behind, to the loch where he was placed in a boat and pushed out into waters, still with his arms bound to the crossbar. The two men?s eyes met. Not a word was spoken, there was no need, each knew the other?s heart. The clan continued their taunting as the great leader floated off into the distance. Merrick looked on sadly, thankful that he was able to keep Alistar?s own people from killing him and hopeful that he and Mary would find each other.
Mary, completely soaked through again, arrived at Ranald?s cottage but found it just as she had left it, with no one at home. She lit a fire in the fireplace and sat on the floor beside it. In the quiet of the room she recalled her recent ordeal. Her eyes filled with tears and soon she was weeping controllably. It wasn?t long before Ranald came through the door. ?Mary!?
Ranald could see that she had been crying. Setting the leather bag he was holding on the floor he hurried over to her. Mary, with tears streaming down her cheeks, lay her head down on his shoulder and tried to explain what had happened.
?Oh Ranald! It was a horrible sight! I?m so afraid.?
?Afraid of what, Lass? What?s happened??
Mary drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them as she stared into the flames. Painfully she told him how she had been ridiculed after she returned home and how the villagers had accused her of being a witch because she had returned, unharmed, from Dark Mountain. How her father helped her to escape the clan?s wrath and was carried off by his own people to be punished in her place.
?I cannot bear the thought. I must go back if it?s not too late and let them do with me as they will. I am a warrior not a coward!?
?I don?t think that would be the wisest choice, Mary. But if you believe it is what ya must do then I?ll go with ya.?
?Oh no. I cannot bear being responsible for your death as well!?
?And what makes ya think they will kill me? Huh, Lass?? Ranald put another log on the fire, then took Mary by the hand and led her over to the table. ?Either way, ya need some rest before ya go anywhere.? Ranald took some oatcakes and a bowl of dried berries from the shelf above the hearth and from a leather bag that hung on a peg beside the hearth he pulled some dried meat. Mary ate very little as she had no appetite in her present state. She could not remove the terrible image of her father from her mind.
Upon waking from a fitful sleep Mary found herself alone. It was early evening and the sun was already setting behind the mountains. She heard noises outside and decided to go see what was happening. Opening the door, she caught the scent of the pine trees and wild flowers. With closed eyes, she took a deep breath and drew in the smells. So calming they were, the pine and the heather, but she had no time for such things now. She saw Ranald walking down the path that led to the shoreline. She quietly followed him until the path ended at the edge of the water. Suddenly Ranald started running along the bank to where she had left the boat she arrived in last night. Another small boat had come ashore.
Her heart dropped to her feet, she knew in an instant where that vessel had come from. She ran out after him. ?What is it?? As she came closer the image became clearer. Still tied to the crossbar weakened and bloodied, Alistar lie unconscious at the bottom of the craft. ?Father!? Mary?s face turned as white as death.
?Don?t panic Lass, he?s still alive. We best be getting him inside and tend to these wounds.? Ranald took his dirk from his boot and cut through the ropes that bound the older man, then lifted him up and over his shoulder. With Mary leading the way they hurried back to the small cottage.
Ranald put the wounded man on the small straw bed inside the house. Mary sat beside the injured man, wiping his face with a cloth.
?I?ll go get some water, Mary. There are some herbs on the shelf over there by the chest, get them down and I?ll be right back.? Ranald went out and Mary climbed up on the wood chest to reach the jars on the self. Coming in with a bucket of fresh water Ranald told Mary he was going to go get Gollwyn.
?Why? I can take care of my father.?
?I?m afraid he needs more than what we can give. Gollwyn will know better what to do.? Before Mary could protest further he was gone.
With nothing else to do Mary poured the herbs into a bowl of water and carefully cleaned Alistar?s wounds. Time seemed to stand still, Mary paced back and forth in front of the hearth and every few minutes would check to see that her father was still breathing.
?Why can?t they hurry? It?s been hours.? She whispered out loud as she sat in the chair next to the bed. Gently she touched Alistar?s face. ?I am so sorry, father. I should never have been so stubborn.? Alistar stirred and slowly opened his eyes, Mary?s heart jumped.
?Mary.? The old man could barely get the words out. ?My wee Lass. You?re safe.?
?Aye, and so are you.? Mary smiled to hold back her tears.
?Oh Mary, there?s so much ya need to know. So much I?ve never told ya.?
?Please father, not now. Ya need to rest.?
?No Mary, I need to tell ya about who ya really are. About your mother.?
?What about my mother?? Curiosity had the best of her now. ?You would never speak of her before.? Just then the door swung open and in walked Ranald followed by the rickety old man.
?So.? Gollwyn grumbled as he made his way across the room. ?The end has finally come Alistar??
Stunned, Mary quickly rose to her feet. ?You know each other??
?Yes, my child. We?ve known each other for a very long time.? Gollywn told her as he took the seat by the bed and examined her father?s condition. ?You?ll live.? He said to Alistar.
?How is that possible??
With great difficulty Alistar answered her. ?That?s what I was trying to tell ya.? Gollwyn broke in. ?Save your breath, man. I?ll tell them.?
?Tell us what??
?Sit by the fire child and I tell the whole tale. You too Ranald, sit and listen. It?s time for ya know.? Ranald settled in a chair at the table and Mary curled up by the fire.

[Lt.Mac]

?A long time ago I had a grand-daughter. She was a high-spirited lass she was,always running off on her own. One day when she was off wandering she ran into a Northman. She tried to run away but he was too strong. He ravished her, beat her and left her to die but she was, like you dear Mary, a determined girl and managed to make her way home. Unfortunately the Northman left behind more than bruises. She gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl.
The fact that she was a mother did not stop her wandering spirit and she instilled that spirit into her children, taking them on many adventures.One day when she and the children were out on the loch a great storm came and washed them up on the far shore.? Gollwyn turned a looked momentarily at Alistar then continued. ?Your father found them and took them in. Katie had hit her head and could not remember whom she was or how she had gotten there. By the time I found them she and Alistar were in love.? The old man shifted a bit in the chair, the two young people attended to his every word like children hearing a fairy story. ?I wanted her to be happy so I allowed the marriage but soon enough she was with child again. This time neither she nor the child survived. I became angry, blamed Alistar, and demanded that he give me the twins. He refused. We argued for weeks, then, eventually came up with a compromise. We each would take one child. I wanted to take you with me but that stubborn fool was so attached. You looked so much like your mother then, and now. I, in turn, brought Ranald here to live with me and told him nothing about his past or you.?
?Aye, that?s true enough.? Ranald added. ?I thought I was an orphan, saved by old Gollwyn here, from a water horse that had already take my parents.?
Mary could scarcely believe what she was hearing. ?Ranald is my brother??
?Aye lass, it?s all true.? Alistar groaned through his pain. ?Now ya see why I protected ya so fiercely. I could not bear to lose you nor could I risk any wrath from Gollwyn if anything was to happen to ya.?
?But what of the stories of the evil wizard and the men who never returned??
The old man stood and turned towards the fire. ?I am a wizard, though I do not think myself evil. I had cursed the waters of the loch so that every attempt to reach this place would be met by fierce storms. The adventurers who sought to destroy me? Stupid men, who pushed through deadly storms and washed ashore. They drowned, nothing more. They were all given a proper burials.?
?You would be my great-grandfather then?? Mary smiled. ?But, why did ya drug me and send me back? Ya could have kept me here.?
?Twas? enough to see you. It was as if your mother were standing before me. Though I was surprised to see how well you wielded the Northman?s strength. There is a great leader inside you. That is why I sent you back and why you must go back now. Why you all must go back.? The old man?s words brought both Mary and Ranald to their feet.
Alistar gasped as he struggled to sit up. ?Ya can?t mean that old man!?
?I can and I do.?
?We?ll all be killed.? Ranald resounded. ?Even I cannot hold off an entire village!?
?You?re daft, man!? Alistar managed to get to his feet. ?Mary and I are banished, the boy here looks like a giant and you...you.? He took a deep breath. ?Ya know what they?ll do.?
?Are there any left who know of the past?? Gollwyn inquired of Alistar.
?Only my cousin, Merrick.?
?He bears ya no ill will, does he??
?No, they would have stoned me to death if he had not banished me instead.?
?Good.? The old man grumbled. ?He can bear witness.?
The next morning as the sun rose above the towering peaks of the mountains, four dark figures stood on the shore preparing to face whatever fate befell them. Gollwyn handed Alistar something hidden in his cloak. Alistar stared at it for just a second and then handed the tartan to Ranald. ?I believe it?s time for you to claim your place in the clan, son.? Ranald hesitated. ?Go on boy, you?re as much my child as Mary.? Ranald carefully took the cloth from Alistar and wrapped it around himself.
?What do ya think little sister?? Ranald lifted his sword and growled.
?I think, brother, that ya still look like a tree trunk. And don?t ever call me little again or I?ll??
?I know. You?ll show me how well you can wield that sword.? Ranald returned his sword to its sheath and gave her a menacing look.
?But, you?re a very handsome tree trunk.? Mary smiled.
Ranald helped the old wizard and the wounded chieftain into the tiny craft and Mary climbed in after. Ranald dropped the oars and they began the slow journey across Loch Fannich.
As they neared the village someone on the shore caught sight of them and by the time they had fully reached the other side of the loch the entire clan was standing there, swords drawn and ready. Merrick pushed his way through the crowd and ordered them all to keep calm. When the boat came close enough to be heard Alistar called out. ?Merrick! We want to talk.?
?There?s nothing to talk about!? Merrick called back.
?Please Merrick!? Mary pleaded.
When Ranald jumped out into the water to lead the boat onto the shore everyone gasped. Not only was he taller than anyone they had ever seen before, but he wore a Mackenzie kilt. Mary climbed out, then she and her brother help the others. The village warriors had pushed their way through the people and stood directly behind Merrick, who raised his hand in warning for them to stay back.
Merrick met them at the water?s edge. ?You dare show yourself? You must be completely daft, man!? Merrick whispered.
Alistar placed his hand on his cousin?s shoulder. ?I need to tell them, cousin, for Mary?s sake.?
?Alright. But I don?t think it will matter now.? Merrick turned to the people standing on the shore and told them to gather in the square.
Once all the villagers had been assembled in the center of the village Merrick let Alistar speak. ?Listen to me, my friends! Alistar pleaded. An anonymous voice called from the crowd. ?Why should we listen to a demon like you?? Mary quickly drew her dirk and pushed her way forward. ?My father is no demon!? Ranald seized her by the waist and pulled her back.
The crowd began to shout. Merrick, raising his sword, cried out. ?Quiet! All of you! Let him say his piece.? The crowd silenced, Alistar began to tell the story. How, years ago before the village was as big and populated as it is now, Katie and her twins washed up on shore. He told how he, Merrick and a few others were the only ones who knew about Gollwyn and the agreement between them. The villagers were led to believe that the boy took ill and died, leaving only he and Mary.
?Mary and Ranald are not demons or witches.? Alistar declared. ?I am to blame for all this, for all the years of deception.? He put his arm around Mary. ?My blossom, I should have told you.? He then stretched out his arm towards Ranald. ?This is my son, Mary?s twin and the heir to chieftain of this clan. I loved their mother dearly and she trusted me to care for them. I was selfish and stubborn and caused them the pain of being apart all their lives, but no more. They are together now and will stay that way. They are the future of this clan.?
Gollwyn stepped out in front of the people, interrupting Alistar. ?I too have blame for this. I should have respected my granddaughter?s wishes years ago. She loved this man and left her precious children in his care, she trusted him.? Merrick came forward and verified the story. ?Tis? all true. I was there.? Another voice from the crowd is heard. ?And what of the lost warriors, where are they now??
Gollwyn answered. ?Drowned. They were foolish men who could not navigate a storm. Their families will be shown their resting places. I have nothing to hide.? As Gollwyn spoke a dagger came flying through the air and plunged deep in his chest and a loud war cry was heard from beyond the tree line. Mary rushed to the wizard?s side as all the men instinctively pulled their swords from their scabbards.

[daisy696]

Please...more, more, Lt. Mac:D

[daisy696]

When Next:

When next I see your face again,
We'll sail up high on the river gin.
On wings of doves to heavns high,
Up to the blue wonderous sky.
When snow white clouds for us do part,
We'll drift on through, to his heart.
And when the golden bells ring thrice,
We'll dwell in peace, in paradise.

http://i53.photobucket.com/albums/g49/highlandlover/WALLlight_of_the_rose.jpg

[poeticdeer]

I wrote this poem about Adrian, (almost 9 years ago), but it still applies:


WHISPER OF THE HEART

The warmth in his eyes,
Speaks, to your soul.

Like a whisper,
Touching our hearts.

From the quiet power,
Of his magnetism.

Revealing his passion for life,
And love for children.

With a deep conviction,
To make those lives? less fortunate, better.

An exceptional role model,
They can look up to.

Giving them self-worth and confidence,
Helping to mold them, into the adults they become.

Working with charitable organizations,
In local communities,

His abundant generosity shows,
Giving more to the world, than he expects in return.

Having touched their lives?,
With the beauty and passion, of his soul.

D. R.
5-15-99
**************************************************

Take Care Everyone

D.

[Lt.Mac]

sorry ya'll but I was ill for a while (couple months) then i've been so busy with Air Force business and my new publisher and new grandbabies. My book "Beyond the Legend" has been moved to a new website via new publisher. www.lulu.com and the next one should be there in about a month or so.

Here's the rest of the story I started posting months ago. have fun :)


The children had just barely been whisked away by their mothers when the warriors from a neighboring clan came thundering out of the woods into the village. Seeing that her great Grandfather could not be saved Mary too raised her arms and joined the men. She charged like bull at the first invader she saw driving the steel deep into his heart. Two more men came at her but they too were no match for Mary. She now was running on pure rage tearing through the ranks of the intruders like they were mere blades of grass. The two hoards collided and the terrible battle that ensued left many MacKenzie men and women dead, including Merrick and the old wizard.
With the last of the attackers retreating into the woods, the rest of the surviving warriors stumbled wearily through the mass of bodies strewn about the village square.
?Where is my Father?? Mary called out to one of the other men.
?I haven?t seen him Lass.?
?Ranald, help me find Father!? Mary beseeched her brother and began to sift through those who lay upon the ground. Most were beyond help. Only a few had injuries that would allow them to live.
?He?s here, Mary!? Ranald shouted from the far west end of the square. ?He still breathes!? Mary rushed to the spot where her father lay wounded.
?Ranald, how bad is it?? Mary knelt beside them and took hold of the old man?s hand. Ranald had lifted the chief?s head onto his lap and began wiping some of the blood from his face.
?I can?t say Mary. The injuries don?t seem bad but he was already weakened and ill before the attack. There?s no tellin?.? While they spoke Alistar began to awake. He lightly touched Mary?s face, trying to wipe the blood that was splattered on it.
?You fought well Lass.? Then looking over to Ranald, put Mary?s hand into her brother?s. ?The clan will be counting on both of ya. Be fair but strong and they will give their allegiance.?
?Don?t talk like that father. You?re not leaving us, not now.? Mary could barely hold back the tears.
?Aye Lass, I am. The water horse comes for me.? Alistar struggles to take in a breath. ?I?m sorry Lad, for all these years that I?ve kept you from Mary.?
?Be still old man.? Ranald sighs. ?Save your strength. What?s done is done and forgotten.?
Alistar, smiled and brushed the hair from Mary?s eyes and as he did, his own glazed over staring straight up, onto the sky. His hand fell limp to the ground.
?Father!? Mary cried out and the tears poured down her battle stained cheeks. ?No! Father! No!?
?He?s gone Mary.? Ranald touched her shoulder. ?You must strong. I know you can be.?
Everything grew silent except for the sound a hawk screeching in the sky just above the blood soaked battleground. Mary and Ranald stood up and began to walk towards the middle of the square stopping when they came upon the lifeless body of Gollwyn. Ranald bent over and carefully removed the crescent shaped talisman that hung around the old man?s neck and slide it over his own head, clutching the moon tightly in his hand. ?This had been passed down for generations. Someday, he said, he would pass it to me. I don?t think he had planned on it being like this.? He sighed as he rubbed the golden figure of the quarter moon between his fingers. ?There used to be a stone set inside this circle. He said it had been lost for long time.?
As Ranald held the small moon in his hand Mary noticed that there was something familiar about the empty space where the stone was meant to be. ?Wait, I don?t think it?s lost. Look.? From around her neck she took a small moonstone necklace. She cut the lashings and placed the stone into the talisman, it fit perfectly. ?Father told me this necklace belonged to my mother, but it really was part of this talisman. We each had half the puzzle all along. This was meant to be a link if we ever met.?
It was near the end of dusk and the last grave had been covered, the pipes echoed, low and mournful through the tree-covered mountainside. Soft weeping could be heard now and then on the breeze. Mary and Ranald stood silently along the banks of the loch staring out over the water. The moon shed a thin yellow path of light that looked like a bridge between the two sides of Loch Fannich. Without breaking her gaze upon the water Mary spoke quietly. ?I can smell the heather in the air.?
?So can I.?
?What do we do now, Ranald? We?re responsible for all these people. I?m not so sure I can do this.?
?All we can do is our best, little sister. All we can is our best.?
Smiling, Mary quickly returned to her usual self. ?I thought I told ya never to call me little again!?
?I know.? Ranald grinned. ?You?ll give me taste of your sword.?
?Aye, and don?t ya be forgettin? that.? Mary smiled as she punched him in the arm.
?Ow! That hurt, Lass!? Ranald mumbled, rubbing his arm. ?I think ya left a bruise.?
?What a girl ya are, brother.? They both laughed as they walked back towards the village.

[Lt.Mac]

How about a new one--- very short story-- some one once told me to turn this one into a movie script- right, like I have time for any more projects



The Roman Angel

The sun shone down on the narrow streets filled with Italian merchants bickering over prices and tourists with cameras clicking mindlessly at every native face. Allena quietly roamed through the shops and kiosks of Campo de Fiori. Part of her was busy half-heartedly soaking in the sights and sounds of the market, but the rest of her was sadly remembering the events that had brought her to experience this ancient, romantic world alone. She and her husband, Ryan, had saved three years for this trip. But just months before they were scheduled to leave he was diagnosed with inoperative brain cancer. In his last hours he made her promise to continue with the plans. At first she considered not going but her heart could not bear to break the promise she had made.
It was near noon and she decided to stop for a cappuccino at the next cafe. Sitting at an empty table in front of the quaint ristorante, she ordered her beverage. She then reached into her bag for her journal. The time worn, tarnished silver clasp on the front of the book came open and the pen she had tucked away inside fell to the ground rolling behind her. She turned to pick it up, however, a very handsome man sitting at the next table had already retrieved it. She was instantly mesmerized by his dark brown eyes and illustrious smile, which seemed to pierce right through to her soul.
?Is this your pen, Signorina??
Trembling, she reached for the pen. ?Yes, it is. Thank you. I mean Grazie.?
Swiftly, but gracefully, she took it from his hand. All the while never breaking the bond that held her eyes to his. Her fingers lightly brushed against his palm and she felt as if a lightning bolt had shot through her chest. She could feel the warmth of embarrassment radiating from her face. She turned back to her table praying that he did not notice the blush on her cheeks. Taking a deep breath the man stood and politely asked her if she was waiting for someone.
?No. Actually I?m here in Rome by myself.? She tried to look down at the ground as she spoke to avoid his glance but his eyes were like magnets, pulling her into them.
?Oh.? He looked down and shook his head as he sat in the chair beside her. When he returned his gaze to hers the light in his eyes seemed to dim just a bit. ?Il sono molto triste. I am very sad to see such a enchanting lady spending her time in this wonderful city alone.?
?Thank you, I mean, Grazie. My husband and I had planned this trip for a long time but he recently passed away. I promised him I would still come and see Rome for him.?
?You miss him greatly, no??
?Yes. I do.? Her eyes began to well up with tears when she thought of Ryan again.
?Oh, tale` piangere, such weeping, Signora. Please do not cry in such a place as this. Rome is the city for lovers, your husband will be with you always, in your heart.?
He handed her a napkin from the table and she carefully dabbed the tears from her cheeks. He closed his hand around hers and smiled as she returned the napkin to him. ?Mi chiamo e` Angelo di Marino. Signora, you must let me show you Rome.?
She smiled timidly. ? Thank you. My name is Allena Bartos. I would love some company. ?Angelo was handsome and charming. She was, unwittingly, pulled into his world by an indescribable warmth that transcended from the very pit of his soul.
She gradually began to open up to this completely fascinating man. Telling him about her life and her dreams. While strolling through the many rooms of St. Peter?s Basilica he explained to her every tiny detail of every brush stroke and every sculpture?s chisel mark as if he had been there to see it all happen and spoke as if he knew Michelangelo personally. He tenderly held her hand as they ambled in the bright sunlight around the ruins of the Coliseum.
The day flew by, as nightfall came Allena, feeling a bit lightheaded, realized that she hadn?t eaten all day. Angelo suggested stopping in a local deli near the hotel where she was staying. After choosing a nice bottle of chianti, a couple of pears, cheese and a loaf of bread they continued on to the hotel.
Allena excused herself into the bathroom to freshen up. ?Be strong.? She firmly told herself as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. ?Eat and send him out the door. Don?t let yourself be taken in.? Her hands were shaking when she came back into the suite. Angelo had prepared a picnic on the balcony, complete with candlelight. He took her hand and guided her through the double doors. Seating her at the table, he poured two glasses of wine and sat in the chair beside her.
?This feels so strange to me, yet at the same time so familiar. As if I?ve known you all along.?
?I?m glad you feel comfortable.?
Taking a knife from the table Angelo sliced a piece from one of the pears, dipped it in his glass, then held it up to her lips. She closed her eyes as she bit into it. The flavors ran over her tongue, sensually awakening each tiny taste-bud. Opening her eyes again, she found herself staring directly into his deep brown eyes. Such rich, dark pools, they were, that sparkled like the stars and spoke to her soul with a deep genuine love that completely devoured her consciousness.
Reaching up, Angelo put his hand on her cheek and leaned in close. ?Tuo molto bella, Allena.? He whispered in her ear then kissed her wine soaked lips.
His hand slide down to her shoulder, at that moment the world disappeared. Nothing existed for her but his touch. He pressed his body against her as the kiss grew stronger. Allena wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He slid his arm under her knees and lifted her from the chair.
Carrying her inside he gently set her on the bed. She could feel his hand slipping under her blouse and as it ran across her breast a wave of passion overwhelmed her. She wanted him more with every touch. His kisses became even stronger and deeper, his hand gently glided down to her thigh. An unrelenting fire burned in her as she drifted into a dream state where the sensation of his passion was all that existed.
Allena opened her eyes to find Angelo asleep beside her. Quietly she wrapped herself in the sheet and went out on to the balcony. The breeze was cool and the moon was full and bright. As she stood there studying it she felt Angelo walk up behind her and kiss the back of her neck, then softly embrace her. With his elegant baritone voice and intriguing Italian accent he spoke softly.
?You know, they say the moon is the Mistress di Amore.?
?Really, the mistress of love? What do they say??
?They say that she rules over all lovers and if she so chooses she can make a man?s passion burn so furiously that it can drive him insano.?
?Have you ever been that deeply in love, Angelo??
?Si.? He answered as she turned to kiss him.
?Who was she??
?You.?
?Me? You haven?t known me long enough for that.?
?I know what is in my heart.? He cupped his hands around her face. ?Ti amo molto, Laney.?
Startled, Allena quickly backed away, releasing herself from his embrace.
?Che cosa e` errato, mi amor?? Angelo was puzzled.
Allena looked out onto the city for a moment and gathered her senses.?It?s just that, Ryan used to call me that. I was just taken by surprise for a moment. I?m sorry.? She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his warm chest and closed her eyes.
?Non sia spiacente.? He whispered softly as he kissed the top of her head.
The morning sun shining in from the open balcony door and the smells of the nearby market awakened Allena. She stretched her arm across the bed to wake Angelo, but he was gone. Instead she found a single white rose and a note place precisely in the center of the pillow beside her. Smiling she picked up the note and as she read it her hands began to tremble. ?No! That?s impossible!? She jumped from the bed dropping the note on the floor.
As she stood there in shock she felt something under her foot. She took a step back, lying on the floor beside the note was a large white feather. Picking up both the note and the feather a soft breeze blew over her from the open doors and instantly she felt an intense rush of emotions wash over her. She became much calmer and felt at peace. Holding the feather close to her heart a tear ran down her cheek as she read the note again:
?I told you I?d be there. Forever, Ryan.?













his one into a movie script- right, like I have the time.