Fortune Teller…

Sunday Writing Prompt “Fortune Teller”

Fortune Teller
mindlovemisery.com

For today’s prompt we are going to try our hand at fortune telling. Use whatever method we like. Make a prediction, make sure to address the audience for whom your predication is intended. The audience can be the whole world, it can be a friend, family member, yourself, or a specific group of individuals. We can also write about a specific historical prophet or fortune teller such as Nostradamus. Fictional stories work too!

Before waking, I knew
I had to tell someone something
My mind itched with the importance of it
Yet I could find no words
My mind, wrapped in sleep
I remembered walking over
Three playing cards yesterday
Stuck on the wet pavement
One of diamonds, the money card
Two of spades, the double cross
Plus the ace of hearts, love
What message was I trying to tell myself?
Remembering those wet cards…

©anitadawes 2020

Inside my Head… #Poetry

Image by Pete Linforth from Pixabay

Inside my Head

Welcome to my mind
The cold, dark, often empty place
Until the voices start
Then it’s as if I’ve been fed liquid bliss
The world inside becomes rainbow bright
People I have known all my life, changed.
I don’t recognise their shining faces
Their pleasant ways, so happy
Did they feed on an overdose of sugar pills?
Ghosts of their former selves
Wound up, let go, clockwork toys
The other side of the coin lets the dark out
I can see black clouds above their heads
I feel the need to run, but where to?
How to get outside my head?
Walking the streets I saw ghouls, ghosts
Floating above the people
They walk backwards in front of them
Trying to touch, teasing, pulling faces
Trying to get their attention
This is where my darkness lives
Inside my head
The dead watch me with envious eyes…

©anitadawes 2020

Our Review for The Attic Room by Linda Huber #Kidnapping Crime Fiction @LindaHuber19

A father’s secret… a mother’s lie… a family mystery.
An unexpected phone call – and Nina’s life takes a disturbing twist. Who is John Moore? And how does he know her name?
Nina travels south to see the house she inherited, but sinister letters arrive and she finds herself in the middle of a police investigation. With her identity called into question, Nina uncovers a shocking crime. But what, exactly, happened in the attic room, all those years ago? The answer could lie close to home.

A fast-moving, chilling suspense novel by the author of The Cold Cold Sea, The Paradise Trees , Chosen Child, and others.

Our Review

The Attic Room is the first book I have read by Linda Huber, although most of her books are on my reading list as I love psychological thrillers, and this is one of the best!

Just weeks after her mother dies, Nina is told of another death, only this man is a stranger. A stranger who had left her his house, a large depressing building that might reveal a clue as to who he was, and why he knew her.

This was where the tension began to grow into a strangle hold, as the mysterious secrets begin to unfold. The atmosphere of the house, leaking it’s evil memories of the past came through strongly and chilled me to the bone.

Beautifully written and superbly plotted, I thoroughly enjoyed The Attic Room…

© Jaye Marie 2020


Amazon Review

4.0 out of 5 stars

Murky pasts and unpleasant family histories

The Attic Room is mostly told from the point of view of Nina who is struggling with having just lost her mother, Claire, and who lives with her daughter Naomi on the beautiful Isle of Arran. She gets a telephone call which turns her world upside down and has to head off to Bedford to try and uncover what appears to be a family secret, the truth of which has died along with her mother.

Nina knows nothing of any extended family she may have and is keen to find out more but when she does she is in for an unpleasant discovery. It is a surprise that Claire never told her the truth however unpalatable but I can understand how that can happen. You always think one day I shall tell them then something can happen which snatches that chance away from you. I liked the chapters told from Claire’s point of view which filled in some of the gaps for the readers, if not for Nina.

I enjoyed the settings in this book. I love the thought of Arran, and while I intend on making it there one day I already know the second setting, Bedford, very well. Not as idyllic perhaps but I liked picturing the locations and knew just where the house that Nina inherits is located.


Worth Waiting For…

Image by Pixabay.com

Worth Waiting for

I fell asleep in my own bed, woke in another
Spent the night with a beautiful woman
Too soon, I found myself back in my own bed
Hugging air, wishing there were a way
to make the dream world a reality in my own time.
Realising this would take more
than the magic wand of Merlin to accomplish
My footsteps became heavy, my day dull.
The voice in the back of my head
A tormenting whisper, telling me
There is a way to stay beside her
That is when I remembered the date
of the newspaper on the side table,
two years from now, I will meet my future wife.
All I need now, is a way to speed time forward…

©anitadawes 2020

#Book of the Week! Himself by Jess Kidd #Greco-Roman Myth & Legend Fantasy eBooks

A charming ne’er-do-well returns to his haunted Irish hometown to uncover the truth about his mother in this “supernaturally skilled debut” (Vanity Fair) and turns the town–and his life–upside down.

Having been abandoned at an orphanage as a baby, Mahony assumed all his life that his mother wanted nothing to do with him. That is, until one night in 1976 while drinking a pint at a Dublin pub, he receives an anonymous note implying that she may have been forced to give him up. Determined to find out what really happened, Mahony embarks on a pilgrimage back to his hometown, the rural village of Mulderrig. Neither he nor Mulderrig can possibly prepare for what’s in store…

From the moment he arrives, Mahony’s presence completely changes the village. Women fall all over themselves. The real and the fantastic are blurred. Chatty ghosts rise from their graves with secrets to tell, and local preacher Father Quinn will do anything to get rid of the slippery young man who is threatening the moral purity of his parish.

A spectacular new addition to the grand Irish storytelling tradition, Himself “is a darkly comic tale of murder, intrigue, haunting and illegitimacy…wickedly funny” (Daily Express).

Our Review

From the first word of the powerfully written prologue, I couldn’t stop reading Himself.

I fell completely under the spell of this mysterious story, all about the living and the dead and the search for truth in a quaint Irish village.

The star of Himself is Mahony, a young Irishman searching for the truth about his birth, assisted by the colourful characters and ghosts in Mulderrig, a place with more secrets and mysteries than most.

I loved the way the people in this story speak, such wonderful vocabulary and fascinating insight into the minds of Irish people. What at first seems light-hearted banter, soon changes into dark, menacing humour and a terrifying journey as Mahony uncovers the truth he seeks…

©Jaye Marie 2020

Before… #Poetry

Before

I have seen through these eyes before
Memories from a time
that do not match my own
Images in black and white that fade
With each passing day
Old photos hidden in a shoe box
Time stamped by age
No longer valued, faces there
Consigned to the past
Their names etched in stone
My life now on hold
My time spent taking notes of all that passes
One entry underlined on each page
I know that face, a young girl
I put her age at ten
Is it her life I am witnessing?
Or did I live it all before…

©anitadawes 2020

#Wordle 459 #Poetry


I feel my back press against the ceiling of my room
I watch my body lying face down
I wonder at the sudden sound of a drill in my head.
I feel my outside body shake with the shock
Of being in two places at once.
I would have screamed had I lungs to fill with air
I take note of all I see
My bed covering, black and white stripes.
How neat the design, the lines rumpled now?
I pass on through the roof
Morning has not yet broken
I chase wild thoughts that can only be mine
Save but one, I would never covet my neighbour’s wife
Yet here I am, floating two floors from the ground
Staring at her through her lace net curtains…

©anitadawes 2020

The Colour of Sin…

Image by garageband from Pixabay

The Colour of Sin

I sat on the bus, holding the pamphlet
Given to me by a woman in the street
I hadn’t managed to dodge this one
The way I do most pamphlet waving people
Large red print, Do You Know the Colour of Your Sin?
I looked out the window, she was no longer standing there
Looking left and right, I wondered which way she might have walked
The message felt personal.
I etched the memory of her face into my mind
Hoping I would see her again to ask why
She had handed out the pamphlet to only me
The list of sins according to colour
White – a lie to save someone from the pain of truth
Blue _ envying your friends life,
wishing it to be your own turns this sin dark blue
Brown – for stealing
Purple – for cheating on your boyfriend/husband
The list went on quite a bit, right through to murder
The colour – black clinging to the list
That was the one sin I hadn’t committed.
Stepping from the bus,
I felt giddy with the sudden memory
of terminating a pregnancy in my teens
My sin had come back to haunt me from the hands of a stranger
So I thought, until weeks later I bumped into the same woman
I asked her why she had given me the pamphlet
Her dark rimmed eyes looked right through me
“because the child you aborted should have been mine…
My name, should you wish to know, is the wife of Thomas Grey.”
A name I remembered well; the father of the child never born
That’s when I realized that sins never die
They linger like a bad smell on the wind
Time brings them back to you
I watched her walk away,
wishing I could turn back time…

©anitadawes 2020

Blown Tyre…

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

Blown Tyre

I am leaving the small town of Hooton, my five-year-old daughter asleep on the back seat. Barely five yards from the last gas station for seven miles according to the sign, my right front tyre blew. Managing to keep the car on the road, I pulled over. Cathy remained asleep. Not the best way to end a great day visiting bookshops and a candle making museum.

After kicking the tyre in frustration, I looked up to see a young man walking towards me. Tipping his hat, he asked, ‘Can I help you, mam?

If you have a spare, I will gladly change it for you…’

Knowing I could not, I accepted his offer. He said his name was Dave and he worked in Floyds garage, the last one for seven miles.

Tyre changed, I was good to go and offered to pay for his time.

‘No thank you, Mam.’

I had never been called mam before and found it quite quaint. Before I could say more, he walked away towards the garage.

I sat thinking I couldn’t leave it like that.

Cathy still asleep, I decided to turn around and offer the young man lunch. I needed a coffee and Cathy must be getting hungry by now.

Pulling up to the first pump to fill my tank this time, I carried Cathy inside to pay, asking if I could speak to Dave.

The man looked at me as if I had sworn at him. ‘How do you know Dave?’

I explained about the young man who had called me mam.

‘That sounds like Dave all right, always dreaming of going to the rodeo one day, liked to think himself a bit of a cowboy.’

He pointed to photos of his employees on the wall behind him. ‘Is this the young man who changed your tyre?’

‘Yes, it is. I would like to take him to lunch to say thank you, as he wouldn’t accept any money.’

‘I’m afraid you can’t do that, mam. Dave died last year, right about the spot your tyre blew.’

Did a ghost really change my tyre?

©anitadawes 2020