No Makeup

He watched her as she approached him.  Beautiful with the face of an angel.  She made his heart sing and his eyes dance.  Her hair fell in luxuriant waves over her slender shoulders, cover most of her arms and the top she was wearing.  She looked like a mermaid walking on earth.  He stood there, arms folded, just watching her.  A broad smile broke on his face when she stopped, folded her arms and watched him.

It was his cue to go to her.  He quickly closed the distance between them.  It was when he was standing in front of her, that he noticed the makeup.  It was the first time since he knew her that she wore it.  Bright red lipstick, blush and eyeliner.  His expression became very serious.  “What have you done to your face?” he asked quietly.

“I wanted to look beautiful for you,” she replied.

“You don’t need makeup for that,” he told her.  “Here, let me take it off.”  He took out his handkerchief and gently rubbed off the blush and the lipstick.  “Much better.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “My girlfriends told me that makeup enhances women’s looks, making them appear more attractive in the eyes of others.”

He stuffed his kerchief in the back pocket of his jeans and held her face between his hands.  “It was your fresh, scrubbed clean face that I fell in love with,” he told her.  “You don’t makeup to bring out those amazing eyes of yours or the natural glow of your cheeks or the shape of your mouth.”

She smiled up at him.  He always said the most romantic things to her.  Right now her heart was fluttering and she was more in love with him than ever.  “No makeup then,” she said.

He smiled.  “No makeup.”  He lowered his head and kissed her.  Her lips tasted sweet and he drank them like they were nectar.  These are the lips that I want to kiss for the rest of my life.

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Not One of the Crowd

Then I said, “I will not make mention of Him, Nor speak anymore in His name.”
But His word was in my heart like a burning fire Shut up in my bones; I was weary of holding it back, And I could not – Jeremiah 20:9

Do you sometimes feel like the prophet Jeremiah? He was called to be a prophet. Life for him was not at all easy. He couldn’t marry and have a family. His community hated him and they didn’t want to hear what he had to say because his messages were of doom and gloom. They were probably thinking, “who does he think he? These were people he grew up with. They were his neighbors. It got so bad that Jeremiah didn’t want to speak any more. He tried to keep silent but he couldn’t. He couldn’t keep silent when he had a message to share with the people that could result in their salvation.

Do you pass up opportunities to witness to others because you don’t want to be criticized, ridiculed, ignored or shunned? Are you tired of your friends making fun of you because you talk to them about God? Do you feel like you are an outsider because the people you once hung out with want nothing more to do with you? You cramp their style. You are a drag because you don’t want to go to nightclubs or the bars or hang out at the mall anymore. Your boyfriend dumped you because he’s not into that Bible stuff.

What do you do? You do what Jeremiah did. Realize and accept your new life as a Christian and that you have work to do. Accept that life at times will be difficult because you serve God. Jesus had to deal with family, neighbors and friends who rejected and questioned His ministry. He faced persecution and opposition from the religious leaders. In spite of all of these things, He finished the work God had sent Him to do. Follow His example. Continue to share your faith. Those who want to hear it will listen. Sooner or later, the seed will fall on good soil.

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Companionship

And the LORD God said, “It is not good that man should be alone; I will make him a helper comparable to him” – Genesis 2:18

I was studying a lesson on the first two chapters of Genesis and one of the questions asked was, “What parts of the created world talk to you in a powerful way about the reality of God and God’s love for us?”  For me it was when God created a companion for Adam.  He saw that despite the animals and other creatures, that Adam was lonely.

Adam must have felt out of place.  There wasn’t anyone there who looked remotely like him.  He had God to talk to and fellowship with but there must have been times when he was lonely and wished he had another person to talk to.  God saw this need and He met it in a most profound way.

The first surgery in the history of the world was performed in the Garden of Eden.  God put Adam to sleep and went to work.  Out of one of Adam’s ribs, God created a woman. Then, He proudly presented her to Adam.

When Adam saw her, he knew right away that she was his equal.  He declared, “This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh;she will be called Woman, for she was taken out of Man” (verse 23).

Adam and Eve were the first married couple.  God wants everyone to have someone special in their lives. We are social creatures.  We were meant to have companionship, relationships.  We should thank God for blessing us with friends and families.

Always cherish the people in your life.  Never take your relationships for granted.

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Jolene/Stark #writephoto

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Photo by Sue Vincent

“Y’all gonna be okay while I’m gone?” Darlene asked her husband, Mick and her daughter, Jolene.  She was heading off for the weekend to a Women’s Ministry retreat in Atlanta.

They both looked at her before Mick answered, “Yes, we gonna be okay.  Don’t fuss so.  It’s not like you ain’t been away before.  We can take care of ourselves.  Jolene’s gonna take good care of me, ain’t you, girl?”

Jolene’s answer was to blow a large bubble and then pop it.  She was at the table putting nail-polish on her long fingernails while chewing gum.  Her dyed blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail making her look younger than eighteen.  Long dark lashes framed big, bright blue eyes which narrowed now as she glanced at her step-father.

Darlene wasn’t convinced but, she just had to believe that they were going to be all right for the weekend.  She knew that they didn’t particularly like each other.  Jolene’s Dad died when she was three and until a year ago it was just the two of them.  Then she met Mick at a friend’s barbecue and fell in love with him.  He was a handsome man, tall, well built with jet black hair that covered the nape of his neck and he had the most amazing green eyes.  He was in his mid-forties but looked at least ten years younger.

They got married a couple of months after they met.  Mick tried to be a good Dad to Jolene but she no part of it.  In the beginning they were like cats and dogs with each other but now they seemed to tolerate each other, although the animosity was still there.  She had misgivings about leaving them alone but she was glad for the break.

The sound of a car horn, alerted her and galvanized her.  “Loreen’s here,” she announced unnecessarily.  “Well, you have enough food to last you until I come back on Sunday.”  She went over to Jolene and hugged her.  “You behave yourself, Missy.”

Jolene pursed her lips.  “Ma, I ain’t a child, ya know.”

“Oh, I do wish you’d speak better than that.  What I been sending you to school for?”

Mick chuckled.  “She ain’t into book learnin’.  She’s into boys.  Why you think she’s paintin’ her nails?”

Jolene took up the open magazine on the table and threw it at him.  It hit him on the shoulder.  He turned and glared at her.

Darlene shook her head.  “I’m gonna pray for y’all,” she said.  “It’s high time that y’all bury the hatchet.”  She went over to Mick and hugged him.  They kissed and then she pulled away to grab her overnight bag.  “See y’all on Sunday.  Love y’all both.”  And she was out of the room and the house.  Minutes later came the sound of a car driving away.  Silence, except for the television.

Jolene finished painting her nails and held them under the fan until they were dry.  Then, she got up from the table and went over to the sofa where Mick was.  Instead of sitting down next to him, she lowered herself slowly onto his lap.  Smiling, she put her arms around his neck, her bare legs over his long ones.  She felt his body respond.  “You want to bury that hatchet now?” she asked coyly and saw his face flush.

“You’re a little tease, you know that?” he muttered under his breath before he put his arms around her and lowered his head to kiss her.

“All set for a nice Spirit filled weekend?” Loreen asked Darlene as they sailed down the long stretch of road.  “I’ve been looking forward to it all week.

“Yes, I been looking forward to it for weeks, but I was worried about leaving Mick and Jolene alone cause of how things are between them.”

“Don’t worry about them.  I’m sure they’ll be fine.  Mick’s a no nonsense man.  He’ll keep Jolene in line.”

“I hope they’re gonna be all right.”

“I’m sure about it. Now stop worrying.”

Darlene looked out of the window at the landscape and then, she exclaimed, “Oh no!”

“What’s the matter?”

“I forgot to tell Mick that I had a security camera installed yesterday because of all those recent break-ins.”

“You can always call and tell him when we get to the retreat this evening.”

Darlene shook her head.  “No, it can wait until Sunday when I get home.”  She felt better knowing that it the camera was there in the house.  No one could tell that it was hidden behind the wall lamp in the living-room.  Right now it was recording everything that was happening in there.  So, she’d know if Jolene was giving Mick trouble or not.  Jolene.  She worried about her sometimes.  I’m gonna say a special prayer for her and hope that one of these days, she’s gonna give her life to the Lord.

 

This was written for the #writephoto Prompt –  Stark at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

Meant to Be

Ashton Emsworth was waiting for his girlfriend, Jessica, when he spotted Trisha Adams, his former professor from university.  Immediately, his heart began to beat fast.  She was wearing a dark jacket over a white blouse and jeans.   She looked terrific–as usual.  The last time he saw her was three years ago at his graduation.  He wondered if she even remembered him.  He thought about her every single day, wondering if he would ever see her again.  And there she was.

She glanced up and saw him.  Her face broke into a big smile and then she was coming over to him.  He ran his hands nervously over the seat of his jeans, his breath coming a little faster now.  When she reached him, he tried not to stare but he couldn’t help himself.  She was still so beautiful.  “Hello, Ashton,” she said and hugged him warmly.

He closed his eyes as he breathed in her fragrance.  She felt small and soft in his arms.  Heat coursed through his body.  When she pulled back to look up at him, his expression was tense.  He felt so awkward and nervous.  “Hello, Miss Adams,” he managed to say.

“Please call me Trisha.  How have you been?”

“I–I’ve been well, thanks.  W-what about you?”  He wondered if she had any clue that he was extremely attracted to her.   He had been since the first time he walked into the classroom and saw her.

“I’m well, thank you.  How’s your family?”

“They’re good.  They’re vacationing in the Bahamas.”

“Lucky them.  How come you didn’t go with them?”

“I didn’t feel up to it.”

“Well, it’s good that you didn’t go or we wouldn’t have run into each other.  How do you find life after university?”

“It was tough at first because I had spent four years studying and not having to worry about anything but after graduating, I had to figure out what to do next.  I thought of taking a graduate job then I considered pursuing post graduate study.  I ended up taking a gap year.  Are you still teaching at the University of London?”

She shook her head.  “No, I left the year you graduated.  I’m now teaching at King’s College.  Are you waiting for someone?”

“Yes.”  He didn’t mention whom.  For some reason he found himself hoping that Jessica wouldn’t show up just then.

“I won’t keep you then.  Ashton, I was wondering…Are you busy tomorrow evening?”

He thought about it for a moment.  Tomorrow was Saturday.  Jessica was working tomorrow evening.  She worked part-time at a café close to the university.  “No, I’m not busy tomorrow evening,” he said.

Trisha looked relieved.  “Great.  I’d like to take you out to dinner at this great restaurant.  We have a lot of catching up to do.”

She’s asking me out to dinner.  He couldn’t believe it.  Excitement and nervousness filled him.  “I’d like that very much,” he said.

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

He balked.  “Shouldn’t I be picking you up?” he asked.

“I’m taking you out to dinner so I should pick you up,” she said, her eyes twinkling.  “We’re living in the 21st century, Ashton.  A woman can take a man out of dinner and she can pick him up at his flat too.  Now, what’s your address?”

He told her and she made a mental note.

“Well, I had better be going,” she said.  “I’ll see you tomorrow evening at seven.  Enjoy the rest of the afternoon, Ashton.”

He was sorry that she had to go.  If he weren’t waiting for Jessica, he would have asked her to have a cappuccino with him.  Still, he ought to be grateful that he was going to see her tomorrow.  “Thanks.  You too.”

She touched his arm, making his heart leap in his chest and then turned and walked away.  He watched her go, his skin tingling where her fingers had been.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Jessica said, suddenly appearing beside him.  “The lineup in the music store was horrendous but it was worth it.  I finally got the CD after hunting for it all over London for it.  I’m famished.  Let’s go and grab something to eat.  I saw this little bistro just down the street.”  She grabbed his hand and started walking.  All the way to the bistro she talked non-stop about how tempted she had been to buy other CDs and the DVD set of Jane Austen movies.  She congratulated herself on not giving into the temptation.  Ashton didn’t say anything.  His mind was elsewhere.  He was thinking about tomorrow evening and was anxious for it to come.

It came after what seemed like a very long time to him.  As he waited for her in the courtyard outside of his building, he felt tingly all over.  He was thrilled and terrified at the same time.  He hoped and prayed that he wouldn’t make a fool of himself.  His cell phone was turned off.  He didn’t want Jessica calling him while he was having dinner.  He tried not to think about how she would feel if she knew that he was going out on a date with the professor he was besotted with.

A silver grey Mercedes Benz pulled up and the window rolled down.  Trisha stuck her head out.  “I hope you weren’t waiting long,” she called.  “I tried to get here as fast as I could.  The traffic is very heavy.”

He shook his head.  “No, I wasn’t waiting long,” he said as he walked over and got into the car.  Compared to waiting for over two years to see you again, what are a few minutes?  As he fastened his seat-belt, he glanced at her.  She looked amazing in the red jersey dress.  Its rich deep color flattered her.  Her hair was in an updo with strands falling across her forehead and against her cheeks.  She turned her head and caught him staring.  Color suffused his cheeks and he looked away.

“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day,” she told him as they drove off.

He looked at her, surprised.  “You have?”

“Yes.  I’ve been thinking about you all day.  By the way, you look very handsome in your suit.”

He blushed, feeling a little self-conscious.  “Thank you.”  A pause and then, he said, rather shyly, “And you look very beautiful.”

She smiled.  “Thank you.”  There was a brief silence for a moment.  Only the sounds of soft music filled the air and then, she asked, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three.”

“I’m twelve years older than you.  Does that brother you?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“It used to bother me.  When I first saw you in my classroom, I was taken aback by how attracted I was to you.  I tried to fight it, of course, because you were my student and the age difference.  Many times, I wanted to ask you out but propriety prevented me.  It was against the school’s policy for a teacher to be involved with a student.”

“What about after I graduated?” he asked.  “Why couldn’t we have seen each other then?”

“We could have if it weren’t for our age difference.  I couldn’t see myself getting involved with a guy so much younger than me but I couldn’t stop thinking about you and wondering if I would ever see you again.  And then, quite by accident or perhaps, it was God’s doing, we ran into each other yesterday.”

“I think it was God.”

“I think you’re right.  Well, here we are.”  They had arrived at the restaurant. It turned out to be a really nice, cozy and friendly establishment.  The food was incredible.  They spend a very pleasant evening, talking and getting to know each other.  He was sorry when it was time to leave.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked after they pulled out of the parking lot.

The question was so sudden that he blinked.  “Yes,” he said.

“You were waiting for her yesterday when I saw you.”

“Yes.  Does this mean that we can see each other again?”

“Well, that depends on you.”

“I want to see you again, Trisha.”

“What about your girlfriend?”

“I’m going to end my relationship with her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.  I want to be with you.  All this time I’ve been with her, I’ve thought of nothing or no one else but you.  I tried to get in touch with you.  I went on the university’s website to get your email address or number but I couldn’t find anything.”

“I’m on Facebook.”

“I don’t have a Facebook account,” he said, somewhat sheepishly.

They were stopped at a traffic light.  She leaned over and kissed him.  He eagerly responded and for several minutes they exchanged passionate kisses.  Then, she pulled away just as the light changed.  “How about a nightcap at my place?”  She sounded breathless.

He nodded, trying to catch his breath. His heart was racing, his face felt hot and his body on fire.   When they got to her place, the nightcap was forgotten as they fell into each other’s arms and ended up making love in front of the hearth.   That night was the beginning of a torrid relationship and culminated in marriage.

If two people are meant to be together, it will happen no matter where, when or how it happens.

 

 

 

 

Sources:  Top Ten Reviews; Prospects

The Lion’s Roar

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The winged lion reminds me of the fearless Doctor Balewa who treated me after I was gang raped by militants.  I was a complete wreck but this man of God not only restored me physically but psychologically.   He helped me to regain my dignity.  I found the courage and strength to pick up the pieces of my life.  In the process, I’ve found God and have given my life to Christ. 

I know that this may sound strange to a lot of people but, I’ve forgiven the men who raped and brutalized me.  I don’t hate them.  Hate doesn’t do anyone any good and it’s toxic.  I pray for them instead.   And I pray for their other victims.  I pray that like the lion which is mighty among beasts and does not turn away from anything, Doctor Balewa will not back down from his fight to eradicate sexual and gender-based violence.   

As for me, every opportunity I get, I tell my story.  After all, an injured lion still wants to roar.

172 Words

I was inspired by the true story of Denis Mukwege, the Christian doctor who has dedicated his life to caring for victims of rape in the Democratic Republic of Congo.  Just recently he was the recipient of the 2018 Nobel Peace Prize.

This was written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers hosted by Priceless Joy.  For more information visit Here.  To read more stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Sources:  Christian Headlines; Answers From the Book; Bible Gateway; Brainy Quote

His Muse

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Photo by Sue Vincent

The painting was almost complete.  He just had to add a few touches.  Painting landscapes was never his thing but he had been forced to paint them since…He tossed the paintbrush down and got up.  He walked over to the window and stared out into the street below.  It was quiet now.  It was Sunday.  Almost everyone was in church.  He had stopped attending Sunday mass three years ago.  He had stopped doing a lot of things three years ago.  Three years ago she had stood right there by the door, ready to removed her coat when her cell rang.  He had no idea who called her but after she ended the call, she grabbed her knapsack and said, “I have to go but I will be back later,” before she pulled open the door and rushed out.

He waited all day for her to return or to call but neither was forthcoming.  Three years later and she hadn’t returned.  He had no idea where she was.  Maybe she went back to her home in Benin.  She was the reason why he stopped painting people and started painting landscapes.  He had broken his own rule of never mixing business with pleasure.  She was supposed to be his muse–that was all.  He had painted hundreds of women before and not once did any of them stir any passions in him.  He was immune to them.  To him there were just muses.

Then, he met her one day at the gallery where his work was on display.  She was eighteen at the time.  Her youth was so refreshing.   She wasn’t beautiful or even pretty and her eyes seemed too large for her small face but she intrigued him.   He wanted to paint her right then and there.  There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she was going to be his next muse.  After they left the gallery, he took her for a cappuccino.  She was a bit hesitant at first although she was flattered that he wanted to paint her but he was very persuasive.

She turned out to be the perfect muse, inspiring him to produce his best work.  He churned out painting after painting.   She sat there day after day, still as a statue.  He supposed that it was gradual but one day he realized that he that he had fallen for her–of all he foolhardy things to do.  He was twice her age, for pity’s sake.  He thought of finding another muse to replace her but he couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing her again.  She had brought light and joy into his otherwise dull existence.  Life without her would be intolerable.  He didn’t replace her but it became increasingly hard to paint because he couldn’t concentrate.  Instead of painting her, he wanted to take her in his arms and…

He leaned forward, his palms flat on the window seat, his tortured gaze scanned the horizon.  She was out there somewhere.  His life was empty.  There was a great big chasm and his heart ached every time he remembered how she had literally run out of his life.  He never got another muse.  No one could replace her.  Oh, Johari, my inspiration, my grand passion, my torment.

He heard a sound behind him and turned.  His face became ashen when he saw her standing there.  If she didn’t blink, he would have imagined that she was an illusion.  All sorts of emotions churned inside him.  His hands curled into tight fists as he tried to hold them in check.  Part of him wanted to take her in his arms and lavish her with kisses while the other part wanted to lash out at her for the misery she had put him through.

“I came back, Adriel,” she said, moving closer.

He didn’t budge.  “Yes, three years later.  Where have you been all this time?”

“I’ve been in Benin.  That day when I was here with you, I got a call from an uncle that my father had fallen ill and that I was needed home right away.  I got the first flight out of London.  I helped my mother to look after him until he recovered.  My mother asked me to stay until she could afford to hire a private nurse.  I tried calling you but there wasn’t any answer.  I think your cell was off.  I wrote to you while I was in Benin but you never answered.  Adriel, you must know that only a family emergency would make me leave you.  All the time I was away, I thought about you and missed you.  I wondered why you didn’t write me.  I thought you were out of the country or busy with gallery showings or—that you had met someone.”

He quickly closed the distance between them.  “I’ve been here all this time,” he told her.  “Missing you and wondering where you were.  I had my phone turned off and I never received any of your letters.”

“So, there isn’t another woman…?”

He shook his head vigorously.  “No!” Groaning, he reached for her and pulled her into his arms.  “I couldn’t be with anyone else even if I wanted to.  I love you, Johari.”  He covered her face with kisses, unable to help himself.

She hugged him tightly about his waist and murmured, “I love you too.”

They stood there in the sun-dappled room locked in a passionate embrace.  He stopped painting for a long while and he no longer had any need for a muse.  They got married in a quiet ceremony in SaintPauldeVence, one of the oldest medieval towns on the French Riviera.  When he returned to painting, he did portraits while Johari worked in a museum which featured his work.

 

This was written for the #writephoto Prompt – Faraway at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.