TEARS OF A GHOST

"TEARS OF A GHOST" (author unknown)

He was very rich and kind.

He was treating her like a princess.

But she was not satisfied. She wanted more.

Whenever she was with her friends, they would try to poison her mind.

"That guy doesn't love you" they would say.

At first, she didn't want to listen to them, but after a while, she had to believe their lies.

Her friends were Jane and Helene.

They were jealous of her, but she was not aware.

Helene had visited countless times when she was not around.

At one time, she nearly lured John into having sex with her.

She seduced him and slowly led him to the bedroom.

At this point, John could not resist.

Helene had to use her thighs to keep him from escaping.

So, she wrapped it around his waist while she laid on the bed.

John began to kiss Helene and she was moaning as she wanted more of those wet kisses.

She made sure her thighs were very firm.

With this strategy, He could not escape.

He was trying to wriggle free, but she held her legs tight.

"Kiss me more" She said with a low sexy voice. "You are mine, John. I won't let you leave until you satisfy me.

John would have escaped had it not been for those legs wrapped around his body.

He continued to struggle until he broke lose. Out of anger, she pulled Helene by the leg and pushed her out of his mansion.

" I will be back. You will pay for this humiliation that you made me pass through "

John didn't tell his girlfriend about this incident. He didn't want to spoil their personal relationship.

Mabel was no longer satisfied with anything that John buys for her.

Her friends were already manipulating her.

So, one day, Helene called her and she gave her a special wine.

"If you can give this to your husband, there is nothing you want that he won't give you."

She handed the bottle of wine to Mabel and she left with so much excitement.

On that night, She prepared his favourite food. They ate and gist for several hours.

Then, John carried Mabel in his arms and they went to their bedroom.

She sat on his chest wearing only her underwear with her brazier.

She began to massage his body and to run her hands through his short Nikka which aroused him immediately.

He was ready to enjoy his girlfriend who was still sitting on his belly.

She kissed his lips and licked his ears.

"I love you so much John" She said.

Then, she moved back and at this point, she was sitting on his "sim card" which was already erect.

But before she could kiss him again, John let out a shout cry that threw Mabel out of the bed.

Before her very eyes, her boyfriend was screaming in pain and within a short while, his body exploded and his blood covered the bedsheet and even the walls.

She was on her knees and was completely traumatized.

John's intestines were outside his belly., his two hands were on the ground. His legs too had severed and were also on the ground.

It was only a part of his belly up to his head that remained.

The wine that Helene gave to Mabel was a very powerful poison. She had imported it from China.

She killed John because he was too caring and was taking proper care of Mabel.

She wanted the same thing, but each time she made an attempt, John would not listen or even give her a chance.

So, she made up her mind that if she cannot have John, no body will.

Mabel didn't know that all this while, his friends were jealous of her and wanted to overthrow her.

Helene informed the police who went to John's house for investigation.

They found his body completely decapitated. The whole room was in a mess. It was a horror sight.

They had to arrest Mabel and they took her to the station.

Mabel discovered a book where John had already decided to buy her the latest Benz and also to propose to her on her birthday.

John was also planning to take Mabel and his family to the United States of America.

His plan was to train her in school over there.

But now that he is dead. All those plans won't work again.

Mabel was charged on account of murder and molestation.

She was given a life sentence which meant that she would spend all her life in the prison.

As for Helene and Jane, they disappeared from the country and no one has ever heard from them ever since.

While in the prison, John's spirit would appear to Mabel. His eyes filled with tears.

"I love you Mabel. Everything I planned for you is now a waste. I wanted to change your life. Why did you allow your friends to deceive you

Why ? "

"Am so sorry my sweetheart. I didn't know that the wine was poisoned. I only wanted to make you love me so deeply and to never cheat on me.

Please forgive me"

She could not control her tears.

She wanted to hug John but for the fact that he was a spirit, she could not hold his body.

Both of them began to cry.

The security officers in charge thought that Mabel was crazy.

She was alone in the room, how come she is talking to herself as if someone was with her.

John made Mabel a promise. He said.

"I will always be here with you. I still love you my princess.

I will be visiting you every day until you are released out of this prison.

Only then can I go back to my maker in heaven.

" Am sorry, John "She tried to hug him again, but she couldn't.

John began to shed tears too.

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SHE IS POWERFUL by Shahida Arabi

"SHE IS POWERFUL"

by Shahida Arabi

Here is a truth you often don’t hear:

Traumatized women have the potential to become the most powerful people in this world.

The most ignorant members of society call this type of woman “damaged.” But she is the most powerful type of woman there is.

What they forget is that survivors have the most dangerous advantage of all: resilience.

When you try and you try but you can never bring a woman down, you’ll know there is no going back.

Don’t fool yourself. You could never defeat her. You never will.

This is the woman who will always rise from the dead; Lady Lazarus, after going through hell and back.

This is the woman who has burned her feet in the flames time and time again and always lives to tell another tale – even if she has to crawl back to life. . . .

When someone tells her, “You can’t do it,” she says, “Watch me.”

She is fiery light birthed out of wintery darkness. Brought into the underworld by Hades, Persephone brings forth spring and rebirth when she re-emerges finally from the cold.

She owns her shadows and seamlessly weaves them into the fabric of her freedom, creativity, imagination and independence. . . .

She lived all of her nightmares in high definition. She was given every reason to give up, handed every justification to never believe in herself or anyone.

But there is raw magic in the ways in which she cultivates a faith in herself, to manifest the dreams her soul was meant to bring forth.

Despite it all, she still conquers.

She still survives and thrives.

The “damaged” woman is capable of immense manifestation not just in spite of, but because of the traumas she has gone through.

There is no one more motivated than a woman who has constantly been told what she cannot do or who she cannot be throughout her lifetime.

There is no one more determined to succeed than someone who has nothing left to lose.

The “damaged” woman doesn’t sign up for the hardships of her journey – but she plays the hell out of the cards she’s been dealt.

The “damaged” woman is not damaged at all – she is wounded, and in channelling and healing her wounds, she becomes the source of incredible energy, the site of unbelievable potential for abundance and change.

She possesses the power to use her wounds for the greater good and her highest good.

She builds her own success and becomes her own rugged hero; tends to her own scraped knees.

She uses every stone thrown at her to build the foundation for her empire.

Brick by brick she builds – and despite every attempt to tear her walls down, she rescues herself again and again.

Despite it all, this type of survivor may still face hatred, envy, greed from those around her. . . .

As a result, she becomes the survivor of countless witch hunts, the target of many persecutors. Yet when they try to burn her at the stake, she does what comes naturally: she resurrects herself. . . .

Now when she creates, she creates new worlds and transforms and manifests on a level that cannot be recreated by someone who never had to struggle to survive.

When you hear the voice of a powerful survivor and the will of a warrior – there is nothing you can do but to stop and listen.

She is the voice of a million lifetimes lived.

She is the voice of the hopeless and the powerless when the fire is brought back to their eyes. She is the harbinger of the justice that the voiceless have longed to hear and feel and touch.

Regardless of how much you try and how it may seem, you can never truly bring a survivor like this to her knees; she already knows the value her scars bring.

She knows how to fill the cracks between her wounds with gold.

She knows how to transform each bitter word cast upon her into an iron-clad will that will set her and other caged birds free.

You can’t ever defeat a “damaged” woman, because she knows exactly how to save herself.

-Shahida Arabi

excerpts from SHE IS POWERFUL

Artist: Cosmic Svasti

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AFTERLIFE Becky Hemsley

"AFTERLIFE"
(by Becky Hemsley)

“In my next life,” said the tree

“I think I’ll be a dragon,

Or maybe be a mountain troll

Who owns a giant tavern

Perhaps I’ll be a little girl

With secret, hidden powers

Or maybe be a tiny ant

That lives amongst the flowers

Perhaps I’ll surf a waterfall

Or burrow underground,

Perhaps I’ll find a heart-shaped balloon

And float up to the clouds

Perhaps I’ll find a rocket

And I’ll fire it into space

Or maybe meet a pirate

With a scar upon his face”

“What do you mean?” I asked the tree

And that is when he said

“You know we’ll all die one day

But our souls will not be dead

So when the world assumes

That I have reached eternal sleep

I’ll worry not because I’ll have

So much life left in me

See, they will take my ever-reaching

Branches in their glory

And I’ll become the pages

Of a many-treasured story

And that is why you’ll often

Find them leafing through the pages

Or turning over new leaves

Of a tale they’ve known for ages

I will not look as I do now –

My life will be rewritten

But they will hear my echo

On the pages if they listen

So if you feel inclined to,

Take a walk into the woods

And take a bag upon your back

Packed with your favourite books

Then find a shady canopy,

A leafy spot to rest

And read the trees the stories

Of the lives they might live next”

*******

Becky Hemsley 2022

Gorgeous artwork by Quasirosso (@gio_quasirosso on Instagram)

‘Afterlife’ is from my newest collection, Letters from Life https://a.co/d/f1WmnD0

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USING OUR IMAGINATIONS By J. A. Elliott 2023

"USING OUR IMAGINATIONS"

By J. A. Elliott 2023

When I was a boy growing up during the 1950’s and 60’s in my home town of Mansfield, I was a Cowboy, Roy Rogers, Hop-along Cassidy or the Lone Ranger. I remember the little sheriff’s outfit I had, with it’s star of silver, and the cap guns that sat in their leather holsters on either side of my hips. The old brush from the yard was my makeshift horse as I ran down Bancroft Lane shouting ‘Hi Ho Silver’ and waving one of my cap pistols in the air, the smell of spent sulphur wafted my nostrils as I shot a few rounds at the baddies, lurking near the bushes. We would swap around a bit, some days being the goodies, others being Billy the Kid and his band of outlaws.

Sometimes I was a spaceman like Dan Dare from my comics, or the great Flash Gordon fighting to save earth from the evil Emperor Ming, our rocket ship being an old abandoned pram that’s seen better days, but to my friends and me it was whatever our imaginations could make it, from a boat in our pirate adventures to a world war two Spitfire shooting down a German Messerschmitt in a dog fight over our little Mansfield town.

One day I was Superman, with my red jumper tied around my neck to form a cape as I flew down our street to stop that runaway train and rescuing the damsel in distress, well one of my sisters laying on the pavement, shouting ‘Help Me, Help me Superman’

I was a crack commando wearing the balaclava that my mum had knitted, with mud on my face I fought my way to the old hut across the overgrown field, after all it was a German fortress and I had to knock out those machine gun posts, throwing small stones as pretend grenades to blow them up.

Another day, and another game, today I was a knight in shinning armour wearing a colander on my head, and the old dustbin lid as a shield, and a small garden cane as a sword. I was Lancelot or Galahad, King Arthur or Percival, defending the round table from the fierce dragon that lived at the bottom of our garden. It was the neighbours growling pet dog really, but to us it was our dragon for the day.

Our games were only limited to our own imagination. Every Saturday my friends and I would go to the Granada cinema, the sixpenny rush as it was affectionately known, to see our hero’s on the big screen, then rush home and re-enact what we had seen within our own games, adding bits to the plot here and there, as we went along.

These were the days of great adventures, where games and imaginations knew no bounds. A time of innocent fun as we frolicked in the sunshine enjoying the fresh air, after all, we only had a few real toys so we had to use our imaginations. I cannot remember ever being bored when I was growing up during the 1950’s. My friends and I always found something to do or some game to play. We didn’t have home computers; we didn’t have laptops, mobile phones, tablets or games consoles, all we had was ourselves and our own creative imaginations, using whatever we had around us, and like the song “We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun But the hills that we climbed were just seasons out of time”

The memories of those far away days still linger on, as vivid a picture in my mind as they ever were. My friends from my childhood games have all now past away and I alone am left with these treasured memories of our long summer days together playing in the sun.

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