Butter Wouldn’t Melt…

Do you remember that adorable ball of fluff that arrived at our house just before Christmas? The marmalade and white kitten that we called Milo?

How vulnerable and affectionate he was, and I remember thinking he could possibly step into the late Merlin’s much-loved shoes.

Fast forward three months and Milo has grown so much. Already large at five months, he will probably be enormous before he’s done growing. Thankfully, he is still affectionate, which is just as well, for he has developed several annoying habits.

Very playful, he has moments of crazy energy when he flies around the house at speed. Every room, cupboard and corner has been investigated and rearranged to his liking. He repeatedly wrecks my office, steals tissues and any paper he can find. Once he learned how to jump, nowhere was safe.

He rips towels and tea cloths from their racks and tries to operate the window blinds in the living room. After I make all the beds in the morning, he waits for me to leave the room, then unmakes them all.

All typical kitten stuff.

Milo isn’t allowed out yet, as he is scheduled for the snip and a microchip fitted at the end of the month. He is not happy about the delay, which brings me to the worst of his habits. He sits at either the front or back door and screams.

Not a gentle meow, you understand. He screams like a banshee. He does this every time he disapproves of something, like one of us wanting a lie in or leaving the house. Not sure if this is normal or if he has a problem, but we hope it stops once he can go out.

Last night I found a new and undesirable problem. I pulled back my duvet to get into bed and found it soaking wet. With a collection of towels and spare covers, I spent a most uncomfortable night in what still felt damp and didn’t feel like my bed anymore.

My sister calls Milo a ginger ninja, but I have a few names that are unprintable…

Serenity… #The SundayWhirl ~ Wordle 595

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay 

Serenity

I see her face, familiar yet unknown to me.
Her voice, a whisper, gentle sighs
I stand on a timeless place,
I feel my mind quiver.
leaping over new thoughts
The killing fields far behind me
I see a halo above each fallen soul
A twig from the Judas tree
caught in my clothing.
I turn a page in my bible,
my mind numb
As I walk towards a low lying cloud
I feel serene, as the blanket of white
covers me, taking me home…

©AnitaDawes2023

A Game of Two Halves… #Poetry ~ MINDLOVEMISERY ~ Wordle #312

Image by Sergei Tokmakov, Esq. https://Terms.Law from Pixabay 

A Game of Two Halves

I sit in court looking at my hands.
Listening to the racket 
made by the official law giver.
Passing judgement on love
a game of two halves
There is more than 
a single string to the heart
Love goes where it is most needed
He tried to make his point
as to the fault of my crime
The forbidden touch, he called it.
A double back hand 
threw the score in my favour.
Boos and whistles from the public gallery
Shouts of ‘It’s a sin, the Bible says so!’
From early childhood
I have known I was different.
The heart wants what the heart needs.
Now I am free to love again…

©AnitaDawes2023


Details of taking part in Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie can be found HERE

A Written Conversation ~ Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie ~ Wordle #311 #Fiction

Image by Kati from Pixabay 

#Throwback Thursday… The Ring… #Fiction

Image by sara graves from Pixabay 

I liked the look of the ring, it had diamonds around the edge and a large amethyst in the centre. Ten pounds, a bargain, I thought.

I decided to pay quickly and look closer when I got home.

The toothless smile from the vendor sent shivers down my back, the look in his eyes none too pleasant. As I hurried away from the stall, I had the feeling something was following me. I turned a few times, but nothing untoward could be seen. I would rather there have been; the unseen worries me more.

I always had a vivid imagination, my mother often said. I need a good imagination as a writer, so I didn’t knock it out. This feeling often brings on a new story.

I jumped on the 49 bus, half an hour, and I would be home. I sat opposite a very old woman wearing shabby clothes. She was staring at my hand.

I thought I heard her say, nice ring.

Again my mind skipped off on some speed dial imagination. It so often runs like water. Not all can be held in mind. It’s a case of catching what you can, writing it down or losing it.

I must have dropped the strange feeling on my doorstep, for I felt better once inside my cosy flat. Thomas, my ginger cat, welcomed me home. I scratched behind his ear and went to make coffee.  I checked my purchase to find that the ring had a nine-carat gold mark on the inside. I had found a treasure…

That night I placed it on my bedside table after writing down all I could remember about my day.

I hoped to sleep like a baby but awoke in a cold sweat. The old lady from the bus had stepped into my dream. She told me the ring belonged to her mother and wanted it back. It was the same voice I had heard on the bus. How could she have known the contents of my bag?

How could I give the ring back to her mother? I’m sure she must be dead, judging the old woman to be about eighty.

It was my day off from work. I would take the ring back to the vendor, hoping he could tell me more about it, but not looking forward to the toothless smile. I walked up and down but couldn’t find his stall. Maybe it was his day off too.

I asked around, but no one knew who I spoke about.

One chap said, ‘we have never had anyone like that working here, and I’ve been here for over ten years. I’m sure I would remember the person you describe.’

Now it seems I am stuck with the ring. Maybe I should throw it into the river, like some ancient votive gift to a God, hoping he or she could spare me from a ghostly visitor trying to retrieve her ring.

Maybe I shouldn’t worry. Ghosts can’t hurt you, can they?

It is gold, after all…

©AnitaDawes2020

Looking in the Mirror… #The Sunday Whirl #Poetry

Image by Marat Mukhambetaliev from Pixabay

Looking in the Mirror…

This morning I realised I say sorry far too much.
It’s time to change, take time for me.
Find something to be proud of
I owned that thought for the rest of the day.
Nothing else mattered
First my job, my clothes
Here I am, a whole new me.
After a few days, I looked at myself in the mirror.
The penny dropped, I had lost something special.
The person who is not afraid to say, ‘I’m sorry’…

©AnitaDawes2023



Menagerie: A Collection of Thirteen Mystery, Suspense, and Contemporary Short Stories #Review @JoanHallWrites

King’s. The Tower of London. Glass. What do these have in common?

Each is a famous menagerie.

While this Menagerie doesn’t focus on exotic animals, it does contain a collection of stories that explore various trials people face and how their reactions shape their worlds.

Survivors of a haunted bridge. Women who wait while their husbands fight a war. Former partners reunited to solve a cold-case murder.

These are just three of the thirteen stories in this compendium, encompassing past and present, natural and supernatural, legend and reality. The genres and timelines are varied, but there’s a little something for everyone who enjoys reading about simpler times and small-town life.

Our Review

From the complex premise of A Moment in Time to the mystery of The Homecoming, this wonderful collection of short stories enchanted me.

Each is a masterpiece of description, setting and storytelling that left me wanting each story to go on forever.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading them all, and every story brought something new and unexpected to my reading experience. 

If I had to choose a favourite, it would be between Ghost Bridge and Storm Rider. Both of these stories appealed to my love of ghostly mysteries.


Joan Hall

Joan Hall has always enjoyed reading or listening to stories about inexplicable events, so it’s not surprising she writes mystery and romantic suspense. A lover of classic rock music, songs often serve as the inspiration for her books.

When she’s not writing, Joan likes to observe the night skies, explore old cemeteries, and learn about legends and folklore. She and her husband live in Texas with their two cats. Learn more about Joan at her website, http://JoanHall.net.

Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie… Wordle #309

Last night a medieval knight rode through my dream

A noble face, yet weary from the fight

Had I kissed a frog in his watery pond?

Have I found my forever man?

Do I trust my judgement, strike while the iron is hot?

Take a chance that joy is not fleeting.

Keep the rosebuds until they open.

To smell the roses, I will attend the ball,

find that place beneath the armour.

Alas, all dream bubble burst.

The shiny armour, the hero inside

Returned to his pond, a frog after all.

I blew him a kiss and wondered what could have been…

©AnitaDawes2023