More Important than Silence!


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There will be no #Silent Sunday post this week, as I was reading Jill Dennison’s lovely post about Hugging and decided we needed these more…

Here is an excerpt…

“Today is for hugging friends! Hugging has been around for millennia and is practiced by almost all cultures as a way to connect with others without using language. Hugs have traditionally been given in may scenarios: as a greeting or goodbye, for sympathy or congratulations, and for gratitude, support, and affection. The word “hug” seems to have come from “hugga,” an Old Norse word meaning “to comfort.” “Hug” was first used around 1610, to describe a wrestling hold. It began being used for its current meaning in the 1650s.

Hugs may release a hormone called oxytocin into the bloodstream. This hormone, produced in the pituitary gland, helps lower blood pressure, heart rate, and the stress hormone cortisol. It also reduces anxiety, improves mood and memory, and increase bonding and closeness. Those who hug often tend to have increased empathy for others. In order for hugs to be beneficial, those participating must trust each other and both want to hug. Otherwise, the opposite effect happens and cortisol levels rise, causing stress.


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I love a good hug and feeling sorely deprived of late. So this post is for everybody who feels the same.  Consider yourselves well and truly hugged today!


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Two Steps from Hell…

This is what it feels like right now, isn’t it?

These words were running around my head, and at first, I didn’t recognise them as any kind of message. Hardly surprising, as not sure I really know what my name is right now…

The pea soup in my brain must have thinned a little, for I suddenly realised why those words were so familiar. It’s the name of the people who create the most inspiring music I have ever heard, and where I usually head in times of stress.

And if ever there was a time to listen to it again, it must be now. I cannot imagine why I haven’t done this sooner.

Take a moment to listen to this glorious music and tell me honestly that it didn’t reach those parts that were crying out for hope and salvation…

#BlogBattle ~ Brooch #Fiction


#BlogBattle: Brooch



Not so cheap.


A handful of dress jewellery brought at the Portabella market.

I liked the look of the brooch, faux pearls around the edge and a faux sapphire in the centre. Ten pounds the lot, a bargain, I thought.

I decided to pay quickly and take a closer look 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 had been, the unseen worries me more.

Always had a vivid imagination, my mother often said. As a writer, I need a good imagination, so I didn’t knock it. 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 bag.

I thought I heard her say, nice brooch.

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 catch what you can, write it down or lose 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 brooch had a small nine carat gold mark on the back. Jesus! 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 that the brooch belonged to her mother and that she wanted it back. It was the same voice I heard on the bus. How could she have known the contents of my bag?

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

It was my half-day. I decided to take the brooch 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.

I asked around, no one seemed to know who I was speaking 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 brooch. 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 brooch.

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

It is gold after all…


©anitadawes 2020


#Flash Fiction Challenge for Carrot Ranch Literary Community #Poetry

April 9: Flash Fiction Challenge



April 9, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that declares, shield your face. It can be a knight of old, a doctor, or a senior citizen. What is the circumstance? Who makes the declaration? Go where the prompt leads!




Knights so Bold

In days of old

Knights may well have been bold

Not so much when facing a leper colony

Their faces wrapped in filthy rags

To hide what lies beneath

No hand will shake

those dark wrapped fingers

No hug gave in greeting

Their eyes tell of a thousand deaths

Each day grows darker

Leave food outside the dark

open mouth of forgotten caves

Where no family dare enter

To watch from a distance

As bread is eagerly taken

So many lost in dark hollow walls

Then comes a Knight so bold

To tell of bright new life to unfold…

©anitadawes 2020

#Keepitalive #Whatdoyousee #Poetry

What do you see # 24. 6 April 2020






Image credit: Pexels 

( For visually challenged readers, the image shown a neon sign lit in lime green color. In the background, you can see city lights. The sign read, ” you are here” )


Her Prince

Vampire dreams,

eating away my rainbow colours

Darkness bites the side of my neck

You are here.

Words I hear whispered from the shadows

A land I thought of only in films

Old castle, evil built in bricks and mortar

You are here now, 

your life to be lived in shadows

You are where you belong

Standing beside your prince of darkness…

©anitadawes 2020

#Writephoto ~ Bells #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Bells #writephoto



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For visually challenged writers, the image shows a beechwood carpeted by bluebells.


Lost no more

I’m lost in a heartbreak

A glass vest I cannot remove

Shards dig deep

Blinding me to beauty

To hope.

The road ahead,

dry dust beneath my feet

I stumble blind

Between tall beech trees

Scales fall from my eyes

At the carpet of bluebells

Dropping to my knees

The sound of each bluebell ringing

In sweet harmony.

A message from the land of the Fae

Bringing hope back into my life…

©anitadawes 2020