Writing

Tipsy Lit Prompted – Paranormally Oriented

~ Gina Briganti ~ 13 Comments

This is my response to this weeks Prompted over at Tipsy Lit. To see the original prompt, follow this link: http://tipsylit.com/2013/10/21/prompted-paranormally-oriented/

Joe woke into The Dreaming, Dana curled naked beside him.

He looked for You, surprised when he didn’t find him.

A stranger sat on the edge of the bed that was floating in the air. The sky around them graduated in vertical pastel stripes of green, blue, yellow, pink, orange, and purple.

Joe adjusted the blanket over them to cover Dana’s generously curved body.
“No need, friend. I’ve seen her before. I was her first.”

A jealousy Joe had never guessed he was capable of reared forward at the stranger’s words.

“She never could get enough. I think I ended up disappointing her.”

Seeing the man’s contrition relaxed Joe. “I’m Joe.” He offered a hand in greeting.

Ever the diplomat, Ben shook his hand.

“Ben Carapelli.”

The name didn’t surprise Joe. He’d figured as much.

“You know the reason she got so good at cooking healthy food was because of my hypertension and cholesterol. I was only 38 when my ticker gave out on me. She really tried, you know.” He brushed an affectionate hand over her hair.
She didn’t stir.

Joe’s possessive streak rose again, and fell. Technically she was married to this man.

Dana nuzzled her sleepy lips to his neck, smiling. “I love you, Joe.” She murmured in her sleep.

“I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t satisfy her like that. Make her smile like that.”

Dana stirred, opening an eye at the voice she thought she’d never hear again.
You appeared instantly beside the bed.

“Ben?” She checked to be sure that the sheet covered her. “Is that really you?”

“Are you asking me?” You asked.

She had to laugh at his expressionless question under the circumstances. “No, it was more rhetorical.”

“It’s me. This guy, Father Time, is granting my dying wish.” Ben looked away from Joe, focusing on Dana. “I didn’t know you’d have a, what are you, exactly, to my wife?”

Joe shifted uncomfortably, never thinking he’d hear someone else call Dana “his” wife.

“No offense, Ben,” Dana spoke in the silence, “but we’re not married anymore. Our vows said ’til death do us part. You’re not, well, alive, anymore.”

“We’ll be leaving those out of our vows,” Joe declared, understanding for the first time what those words really meant.

“So you’re her fiancé?”

Ben was still dynamic, Dana thought, even in death. Commanding. He wore the suit they had buried him in, navy blue, perfectly tailored, shoes shined to a gleaming black.

“We’re in love,” Dana said at the same time that Joe answered, “We’re soul mates.”

“Goodbye, Dana,” Ben sobbed the words, fading even as he turned away to hide his tears.

“Goodbye, Ben.”

Tipsy Lit – Prompted “Something New”

~ Gina Briganti ~ 10 Comments

To view the prompt, or visit Tipsy Lit, please use this link:     tipsylit.com/2013/09/30/prompted-something-new

 

 

“You’re right on time.”  When she saw that he looked doubtful she pointed at the antique clock on the wall.  “Literally.”

“Okay. So what do I do now?  Start on the packet of forms?  He shifted creakily from one foot to the other.

Hope turned the wattage on her smile down a little to put him more at ease.  If this man relaxed enough, he’d fall asleep.  She’d bet that he didn’t even know that he was exhausted.

“I explained that my fee is in cash when I spoke to your assistant, didn’t I?  There are no forms.”

“I asked Paul to send my medical records to you.  Did you get them?”  Do you want them, he wanted to add, but didn’t.  Maybe she really didn’t know what she was doing.

“Yes, I received a thick envelope full of records.  I read them over.  I saw that you’ve been having these headaches for over a year now.  That must be very frustrating for you.”  Hope heard her great grandmother’s voice whisper the word “tension” in her ear.  

“It’s beyond frustrating.  I’ve tried everything.”

She asked a question that the file hadn’t answered for her.  “Massage?”

His jaw dropped.  If she thought that some silly hour of rubbing was going to fix headaches that the best specialist in the area couldn’t solve, he’d better get out of there with his $100 in his pocket right now.

“I’ll take that as a no.  Would you like a cup of tea?  I think it will be illuminating for you.  Do you have the full hour to spend that we scheduled?”  Great Grandmother Willow chuckled in her head.  She knew just which tea it was that Hope had in mind.

“Yes. I don’t need to leave early.”  He looked curiously around the comfortable kitchen she led him into.  There was a padded breakfast nook tucked into the corner.  Complete with unusual, dainty teacups and saucers already on the table.

“Your records don’t show any history of allergies.  Is that still true?”  She wove relaxation into her voice, sending it to the terrific stress she felt pulsing off of his shoulders.

“No, none.”  Nathan covered his yawn with his hand, apologizing for being so drowsy all of a sudden.”

“And how about medications.  I see that you’re only taking pain medication when you have a headache?”

“I tried a few other things but a pain pill is the only one I’ve stayed with.  I only take it when I’m desperate.”

Hope moved in for the big test.  She held four charming pottery jars with lids on her tray along with the pot of hot water.  She ventured a guess that he would be asleep within 10 minutes of drinking the herbs she thought he would choose.  She would lay him down there on the pad and cover him with a blanket while the herbs worked their magic.

“Smell these, Nathan.  Tell me what you think of them.”   Hope pushed the small jars toward him.

“Okay,” he agreed, feeling more confident knowing that she seemed to have read the records he had sent over.  He took the lid off the first jar, wrinkled his nose and pushed it away.

“Not that one.” Hope laughed gently.

Nathan made a random grab for the last of the four jars, passing over the other two.  Oddly, he wanted to grip the smooth jar in his hands and press it to his chest.

Hope stored that in her superb memory in case he ever came to her with love life issues.

He took the third jar, sniffed at the herbs inside, and felt better immediately.  “I like this one.”

“Lovely choice.”  Hope began to steep the tea for him, choosing a different blend for herself.  “It will be ready in a few minutes.  Would you like some bread to go with your tea?”  She pulled a basket off of the counter, showing him the choices inside the cloth napkin.

“Sure.”  Who could resist fresh muffins and bread?  He knew he couldn’t.  “So, where did you learn about herbs?”  He moaned when the rosemary bread melted in his mouth and filled him with its tasty aroma.

“Various courses, family remedies, and healers.  Mostly family remedies, passed down from many generations ago.”  There’s a good girl, her Great Grandmother approved of her respect for the traditions they had refined over the years.  Still were refining in some ways.  The world does change and yet it doesn’t, really.

Nathan finished his bread and swigged his tea.  Arms stretched over his head, he nearly jumped when Hope placed her soft hand on his shoulder.  His eyes drooped, then he lost the battle with his eyelids, and they closed.

Timeless – A Poem Inspired by Camille Pissaro’s Painting “Heritage Garden at Maison Rouge”

~ Gina Briganti ~ 4 Comments

Timeless – One Poem with Three Beginnings

 

 

A lovely lady

 

                                                            On a lovely day

 

Captured for all time

 

                                                            On public display

 

The artist’s view of the world

 

                                                            We see

 

A colorful interpretation

 

                                                            A common event

 

A lucky event

If you ask me

A child at intense play in the garden

 

So much more still than a “real” child so small

A woman, unknown to us, a nanny, a mother?  Watches nearby, her head in her sewing, her head in her reality, yet closely attuned to the child in the way of women.

 

The plants are represented with so much detail

To retain life immortal

 

A standard building of the time

Standard, we trust.

For who are we to know for sure?

The building rests solidly on the ground

 

I am struck

By how much artists throughout history have adored plants, nature, and translated that beauty that could truly be worth a thousand words

 

No matter how many millions of appreciators will walk through this room

Our tender lady will forever remain in silent contemplation of her sewing

The child shall forever remain involved in his play

The trees and flowers in perfect manicure

And the trained and untrained alike

In awe

 

 I’ve submitted this poem to the GoodReads October Newsletter Contest.  Wish me luck!

Prompted – TipsyLit “Through the Eyes of the Elderly”

~ Gina Briganti ~ 8 Comments

I settled myself into my favorite cozy chair to watch my evening programs. My youngest grandchild was safely ensconced in the old bedroom I put her in. With a book. That should hold her there for a while. I put her in the front bedroom so I could hear if she snuck out to watch the shows back there in the dark. Or if she snuck out the other door to the hall cupboard where I keep the extra food.

I smiled to myself, thinking about what a thrill she got out of being in the same room that her dad used to sleep in. It was even the same bed. With him being the youngest of my own six children, I didn’t see any point in replacing it. Who knew that my frugal decision would make her so happy?

Lawrence Welk came on the screen in the dark front room with the big window that looked out onto the street. I shut off all the lamps to cut on the light bill. My glass of soda sat next to me on a little pie-edged, two-tiered table. On top of a lace doily. My young granddaughter got a kick out of that, too. What was it about all this old furniture that made her so happy?

I watched the beautiful people on the screen and had the strangest thought float through my head. I had told my son not to marry that woman. That she wasn’t suitable for our family. He never had been very good at listening to me. Was I glad about that now? Oh, yes, I was. Just that one girl in there that was thrilled by every little thing we did for her made my life so wonderful when she came to visit. And there were three older grandchildren at home. I can’t take them all at once. One of them is a real rascal, just like his dad.

I don’t think I ever tell my son how much I love his kids. Maybe if I said something to his wife she wouldn’t look at me so sideways. Sheesh, woman, that was more than 15 years ago. Nah, I comforted myself. My son knows that I love these kids. Didn’t I buy this little one papaya every time she came to visit? As for the wife, well, I give her a birthday gift and a Christmas gift every year. I don’t need to apologize for saying that she wasn’t fit to marry my son because she was a divorced single mother.

Do you have a suggestion about how I can improve? Please do share.

Prompted by TipsyLit, “Through a Child’s Eyes”

~ Gina Briganti ~ 12 Comments

“Sandy, can you come and sit with us? We want to tell you something important.” Jenna took a deep breath and waited.
“Yeah, Mom.” Sandy ran from her bedroom.
Tiger was there in his bed. He looked smaller than he used to.
“What’s up?”
“It’s Tiger,” her mom began, partly hoping that Sandy already knew what she was going to say.
Sandy wrinkled her nose as she went closer to where Tiger was laying between her parents on the couch with towels under his bed. “Tiger,” she stroked the top of his head between his ears. That was his sweet spot. Tiger purred and sounded a tiny “Mew.”
“Tiger’s really sick,” she heard her dad say. “You know that, right?”
“Yeah, he went to the vet a lot. He took medicine. Didn’t the medicine work?” She dropped her head and her voice now. Something was really wrong.
“No honey,” her mom said softly. “There’s no more medicine that can help Tiger now. It’s time for him to go to kitty heaven. We’re going to have to say our goodbyes to Tiger.”
Her eyes filled with tears, her nose started to run. She shook her head. “No, Mommy, no.” She turned to her dad and hid her face in his shoulder.
“Shhh, it’s going to be okay, Sandy.” Her dad held her body to his, like he was trying to shield her.
Sandy couldn’t think of her life without Tiger. He had always been there with her. She had noticed that he didn’t play as much now, but she thought he was still okay.
“Where is he going to go now? Will he live with someone else?” She felt that she was being punished. Tiger was being taken away from her.
“No, honey. He’s going to kitty heaven.” Her mom sounded helpless.
“You mean he’s going to be with the angels now? Like Tanya’s hamster Caramel?”
A little understanding? Her dad said, “Yes, he’ll be in heaven with Caramel.”
“But he’ll hunt Caramel, won’t he? Like he hunted the mice that got into the garage?” She rubbed her face against her dad’s shirt, feeling confused and sad. She peeked at Tiger again. He really did look sick. Had he been that sick when she left for school today? She couldn’t even remember if she noticed him today. Fresh tears spilled when she thought about how she hadn’t said anything to him.
“We think that in heaven he’ll get to do all the things he likes to do. Everyone gets along there,” her mom answered.
Sandy looked into her mother’s eyes. “How will he get there?”
“Dr. Segal will help him.” Her dad answered, wondering what other questions Sandy would ask.
Sandy saw her mom open her arms. She snuggled into her mother’s soft shirt, sniffing loudly. She enjoyed the feeling of her mom’s arms closing around her and rocking her gently. The moment caught up with Sandy. She fell asleep in her mother’s arms like she had when she was little.