A First
My glances at his face were brief. I tried to focus on anything but him, which was difficult to do considering that he was talking to me. His voice sounded so quiet and distant compared to the thrum of blood sounding in my ears. At the same time I ached with anticipation I trembled with fear. He knew I’d never been kissed by another boy in all my 17 years. He respected that and had told me he wouldn’t dream of kissing me without my permission. That was when I wasn’t sure I wanted to be kissed yet. When I wasn’t sure if things would continue to progress.
Now they had and my feelings for him had deepened immensely. He was my close friend and I was insanely attracted to him. I had to kiss him! But I had no experience. What would he think?
He paused from whatever it was he had been saying and asked if I was ok. My anxiety must have been showing on my face.
“Yeah,” I reassured him and then I hugged him close. As we held each other tight I quietly said the words I had been thinking all night, “I really want to kiss you, bad.” Then I squeezed him tighter hoping maybe he hadn’t heard me, or that maybe I could stay in his embrace forever and not have him look at me with my face red enough to notice even in the moonlight.
But I felt his arms slacken, and then his hands gripping my biceps as he pushed me strongly away from him. I had no choice but to look into his eyes as he held me there. And then his lips warm and gentle were molding into mine. It was brief but sweet and it sent tingles all through me. He pulled away looking at me with that gorgeous smile and I knew he had loved it as much as I had.
This post has been entered into Scribbits August Write-Away Contest
Scared for my Daughter
I’ve been watching, So You Think You Can Dance, this season. I think the way people can move their bodies is amazing. However, last week during the results show they had a performance from an evidently well known musical group, the Pussy Cat Dolls.
Just upon hearing that name, I knew I would be disgusted with them but disgust doesn’t adequately describe my opinion of that raunchy group of women.
So many women, liberated by the feminist rights movement, have chosen to become sex objects, figuring that the fact that they could choose it, makes it ok. It’s sick, it’s frustrating and I am so afraid my daughter will adopt role models like that. Blatant sexualization of women is everywhere, and even mothers seem to be encouraging it. Do you think the skanky high selling Bratz dolls would still be on the market if mothers weren’t buying them?
What about the example they see every day? When your daughter sees you looking in the mirror does she hear comments about your weight, your figure, your boobs? They learn from the earliest days that appearance is what matters. Even I am guilty of it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s important to be clean and presentable and to keep our bodies healthy but somehow we’ve got to get the message through to our girls, that being fit or skinny or pretty, while fine, is not where true value lies.
Recipe For A Beautiful Woman
Kindness in the eyes
Modesty of tongue
An empathetic heart
A smile for everyone
These small but beautiful things you do
Will radiate in your appearance tooBy Summer Owens
Fast Changes
I had never been on a plane before. I was anxious. Not for fear of flying, but about what I would do to keep busy in cramped quarters for 14 hours. My eyes focused on my worn sandals. I stared at them with what I knew was an empty look, but all around me I processed the sounds. The chatter, the laughter, the squeaking wheels of luggage being pulled past.
“Dude, you like, should totally do it dude,” Sandy was saying, “Dude, I dare you!”
“I’m not gonna moon somebody in the flippin’ airport,” Emily replied.
“But dude! It would so awesome!” Sandy retorted.
Sandy always used Dude, way too much.
“Hey, you want some of my Cinnabon?” Gail said to Lane. I saw the feet of the two girls sitting across the way from me. Gail had on dirty pink beach thongs and Lane had slipped her sandals off, preferring instead to sit wiggling her big toe as she sat. I wondered if she always did this. I heard the scraping of a plastic fork and knew that Lane was cutting into the cinnamon roll. With Gails fork. Taking a bite. With Gails fork. I couldn’t believe unrelated people would share germs like that.
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Not four hours into the flight I was already severely annoyed by my classmates. The constant giggling and “Dudes” were taking their toll. I was trying to enjoy my book. Couldn’t they see that? Couldn’t they be a little more respectful? As I sat there fuming over their immature behavior I began to feel very uncomfortable. Had I spilled some water in my lap? I excused myself to the lavatory to discover that at age 14 and on my first flight, I had become more than a girl.
As I walked off of that plane, my underwear stuffed with toilet paper I prayed no one would notice and I thought kinder thoughts, perhaps in the hope that Karma wouldn’t come and reveal my plight. A brief layover offered enough time to grab some liners and then it was back onto the plane.
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I had underestimated the amount of liners I would need for the duration of the flight and I walked into the airport at a semi-waddle, stuffed again with toilet paper. I tried to put on my best face for the host family who held a sign with my name scrawled on it. They each greeted me with an uncomfortable amount of hugging and kissing and I returned the favor holding back tears. Katja was especially excited to see me since she had stayed with my family as an exchange student the previous summer.
“Wie gehts Summer?” She asked cheerily
“Ich bin gut,” I lied.
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I was mortified as Katja held up the liner and asked me if it was mine. I had replaced it with a new one and accidentally left it on the bathroom windowsill. I blubbered that it was mine and that I forgot it and that I was new to all of it and that I was so sorry. Katja hugged me and told me it was alright, and for the first time since leaving for the trip I relaxed. I had not anticipated her caring, understanding reaction. It meant so much to me, I decided I needed to be more kind and understanding.
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I wiped the sweat from my forehead and trudged slowly up the hill.
“Summer, wait up!” Penny called.
I slowed my pace so Penny could catch up and she fell into step with me.
“Are you sure you know how to get back to Katarina’s house?” I questioned.
“Pretty sure,” Penny said. I raised my eyebrow at her.
“I sure could use a drink. Why didn’t I think to bring water?” I wondered out loud.
We turned a corner and as if in answer to my thirst, we suddenly saw it . A big black vending machine situated next to a lone bench, in what seemed the most isolated and strangest of places. We walked up to it eagerly, hoping for a bottle of cool normal water.
“Dang, only Mineral Wasser of course!” I said.
“Oh look,” Penny said excitedly, “Coke!”
We both stared with parched lips at the button with the bright red emblem of familiarity and started rummaging through our pockets.
“I only have a couple D-Marks,” I said sadly.
“Well, I have enough for one bottle,” Penny replied.
Penny inserted the marks and pulled the can out. She popped the metal fastener off and inhaled the sweet mist. Then she put her lips to the rim, tilted her head back and took a good long guzzle. She handed the can over to me and I didn’t hesitate to finish it off.
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I reclined my chair and closed my eyes as I absorbed the music. Someone lifted the ear phone off of my left ear and asked, “Hey Summer, are you ever gonna give my walkman back?”
I chuckled and took off the headphones.
“Thanks Emily. I really like the Goo Goo Dolls.”
“I never figured you as the type that would,” she replied.
“Neither did I,” I said.
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My mom hugged me tightly as soon as she could reach me. My bright blue sunglasses were perched lightly atop my sun drenched hair.
“I can’t wait to hear about and see pictures of all the places you went!” she said excitedly.
“We’ll have to get the film developed first,” I said, ” Oh, mom, wait.”
I jogged toward Sandy and her family.
“Dude, you almost forgot this,” I said, handing her a souvenir shot glass she had let me look at while on the plane.
I jogged back over to my mom and we walked arm in arm toward the parking garage.
“You know,” she commented, “I think you’ve changed a bit over this last month.”
“I have,” I replied smiling.
This post has been entered into Scribbit’s June Write Away Contest
Hands
You see it in my header.
You see it in my avatar.
You see it on my social networking profiles.
That is because it is the photo which most identifies what I am and will always be, no matter how big those hands get. A Mother.
Hands
A sonnet
© Summer Owens
The hand that clenches my finger so tight
Will only this day in time so small be,
And it shall seem as though barely one night
Has passed between childhood and infancy.
Soon you’ll be older, your hands bigger too.
They’ll reach for mine as your first step you take.
Scrapes will soon follow but you will pull through
I’ll teach you to learn from mistakes you make.
Each new accomplishment will bring a smile
We’ll laugh and talk of the things you have learned
Yet I know it will seem such a short while
Before you seek for the freedom you’ve earned
Soon you’ll be ready to let my hand go
You’ll hold my heart in your hands always though.
The above photograph was taken by and is the sole property of myself, Summer Owens. I have entered it into the Mother’s Day Giveaway Photo Contest over at 5 Minutes for Mom. Be sure to check out the other wonderful entries there.
Like Fantasy?
Ever heard of J. Scott Savage?
No?
Neither had I until today. But what I heard has me very interested indeed. See, if you’ve checked out my goodreads page at all, you may have noticed that my favorite reading genre is Fantasy. I’m always checking out random Fantasy books I’ve never heard of in the hopes of finding something great to read, and sometimes I get lucky.
So when I heard about the chance to be part of a blog tour promoting Mr. Savages new Fantasy series Farworld, I couldn’t resist. It’s my chance to obtain a free copy of his book and to review it either for good or bad. Can’t beat that.
Do you want to join the tour? Just visit his blog for instructions on how to enter. It’s really very simple.
I succumbed
Everyone I know has been raving about a certain book series, so I figured I may as well see what the fuss was all about. I started reading Twilight yesterday morning and 498 pages later at 12:15 a.m. I finished it.
This book is considered fantasy, and fantasy is my favorite genre. This book also fits within the romance genre, something I was unaware of when I began reading but quickly realized. Modern romance novels are things I stay away from, yet I kept going. The characters were enchanting, their actions and motivations intriguing, the danger captivating. I obviously couldn’t put it down. It’s been a while since I wolfed down a 500 page or so book in less than 15 hours.
I’m definitely thirsting for more. *cue chuckles from those who have read it*
One October Night
So Corrie posted a four part scary story last month and I was planning to play along and post my own story in four parts but I wanted to get it completely finished before I posted anything, afraid that if I didn’t it might never get finished and I would leave you all hanging, drooling for more of my amazing writing. ;) *pause for breath*
But I did finish it finally, just a wee bit late. So here it is, lumped all together in probably my longest post ever, though not so terribly long that it should discourage you from reading.
Janell hadn’t seen the old place for two years now. She shuddered at the mere sight of it. Painful memories resurfaced with a single glance and she found herself taking a backward step. A twig cracked beneath her sneaker. Ashley’s head whipped around.
“Janell,” she whispered hoarsley, “Shhh!” She put a finger to her mouth and extending her hand, took hold of Janelle’s, drawing her close.
The two of them were crouched behind the large trunk of a Black Oak tree situated on the outskirts of the property. As Ashley surveyed the house in the distance Janelle began to rub her fingers over the bark. Amongst the ridges and furrows her finger tips felt eagerly for the smooth markings she had whittled there nearly 2 years ago.
“He’s leaving!” Ashley whispered excitedly. Janelle let her hand drop as she peered cautiously around the trunk. Her hand fell gently, brushing the bark and suddenly she felt the smooth depressions. She smiled as she traced the grooves with her finger tips, watching the truck creak under the weight of the man that had now placed his foot on the running board. He hoisted the rest of his body into the truck and slammed the door. The truck sputtered into ignition and was soon driving into the distance, over the worn path through the field.
“Come on,” Ashley beckoned, still whispering hoarsely. Janelle didn’t notice that Ashley had left the shelter of the tree and had started making her way toward the house. Janelle had been watching the truck intently, wanting to make sure it was good and gone. She took one final glance toward where the truck had driven. Tail lights appeared in the darkness and she could tell the truck was turning onto the dirt road.
Joining her friend, the two girls made their way toward the house. They approached the front door but jumped with fright as a loud snarl came from behind one of the broken down cars sitting in the weeds to the side of the house. Ashley let out a short scream but Janelle shushed her and called out, “Skinner! Here boy!”
A now friendly retriever noisily emerged from the shadows, dragging a heavy chain over the ground. Janelle ran to her beloved dog and vigorously patted his head, scratched his ears and ran her fingers as best she could through his matted coat. He licked her face with joy, not having forgotten her. She let a tear fall as she looked at him, aged and obviously uncared for. In the moonlight she could see his right eye, swollen and glued together with puss. She hugged him tightly, promising him she would return quickly.
Ashley now followed Janelle to the porch. Janelle turned the knob and the door opened just as she had expected it too. She felt more confident now, more sure of what she had come to do. But first she walked toward the kitchen and opened the fridge. She was pleased to see James hadn’t changed his diet much. She tore the butcher paper off of a thick steak and ran it out to Skinner. She patted the dog’s head as he tore hungrily at the welcome meal. Ashley, who had been standing in the doorway called out to Janelle again, “Hurry! He could be back anytime, you never know.”
Janelle jogged up to the porch and nodded, then the two girls entered the house together.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ashley had started out feeling quite confident, but now that they were actually here she found her hand lightly shaking and perspiration forming above her lip.
“Why do I always sweat above my stupid lip?” she thought to herself, annoyed at this unfortunate trait she had inherited from her father. She wiped the perspiration onto her sleeve and peered down the dark hallway.
“Third room on the right,” she said out loud. Her own voice nearly made her jump, even though she had spoken in a whisper. She proceeded down the hallway, shuffling her feet in case there was anything cluttering the floor. She felt along the wall passing the first two doors and then came to the third. Finding the knob she carefully turned it and pushed on the door. It swung open silently and she found herself looking into a room just as dark as the hallway. If there was a window inside it was well blocked of any moonlight. She slid her hand along the adjacent wall searching for a light switch, cursing that they hadn’t thought about bringing flashlights. She sighed as she felt the tip of the switch plate and then slid her hand upward to flip the light on, but her stomach lurched as she felt instead, warm human skin. In only a second it seemed, the light was on and she screamed in terror as he looked her in the eyes with that wicked grin.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Janelle spun around in the dark, sure she had heard a scream come from the upper level of the house. Her pulse quickened and she found herself nearly rasping with fright. She cursed that she hadn’t brought a flashlight. She knew the layout of the house well enough, but Ashley didn’t, and sneaking around in the dark took more time than she had thought it would. Her thoughts drifted back to the scream she had just heard. It must have been Ashley tripping over something or becoming frightened over nothing due to her already strained nerves. She hadn’t heard the truck ambling back over the field or heard anyone enter through either the front or back doors. No, she was sure they were safe. James hadn’t returned yet, but she’d better hurry and get out of there before he did. She felt around in the dark for the cord hanging down from the ceiling. She was pretty sure she was in the middle of the room where the cord should be so she waved around in the dark until it brushed her fingers. Grabbing it she pulled lightly and the bulb above flickered on.
The room looked much the same, only slightly more littered with paper now. It still smelled musty and she could see tiny particles of dust she had stirred up, floating around in the light. Stacks of magazines and newspapers were piled high on the crates that randomly dotted the floor. Her eyes scanned the room and fell on the bookshelf in the corner. Well it wasn’t a bookshelf really, just some plywood on concrete blocks stacked waist high. It was littered with crumpled paper, more magazines and other odds and ends. She started with the top shelf and began pulling everything off as her search became frantic. She realized just how close she might be to regaining what was hers. If it wasn’t here surely Ashley would find it upstairs in the room that use to be hers.
The bookshelf was soon bare but for the bottom shelf which Janelle searched, praying as she did that she would find it. She picked up a crumpled napkin and upon doing so, revealed a glint of gold, oval shaped. The locket. Janelle cupped it to her breast and sighed with relief. James could have everything else, but this one and only piece of her mother was something Janelle had planned on retrieving since the very day she stumbled out of the house, fleeing for her life, bruised and bloodied after one of James’ drunken rages.
She cursed herself for not remembering better where she last put it and for finding it in the junk room of all places. But then her mother had been alive when she left. Her death was so unexpected and so painful and Janelle hadn’t realized how much value this little locket held for her until her mother was gone and she had nothing to remember her by.
She had been a lot like her mother. Quiet and lacking in self-esteem, longing for the attention of any man that would give it to her, even if it came with abuse. She opened the locket and stared longingly at her mother’s picture when she heard the door knob rattle. She spun around and then relaxed at seeing Ashley’s head peek around the door, but then Ashley stumbled into the room with a cry, her hair tangled in a man’s fist. It was James.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He smiled triumphantly at her as he held her wincing friend.
“So, you couldn’t stay away from me, eh?” he said
“James,” Janelle began, “but…” she trailed off, shocked at seeing him.
“Weren’ expecting me we’re ya?” he sneered, “Carter’s been here all day, he took the car out to bring us back a movie and some beers. When I heard Skinner barking I looked out and saw you two sneakin’ in here.”
Things had not worked as planned at all. She had no idea Carter was there as James always picked him up when they hung out. She scolded herself silently for not remembering how often Carter came over.
“I figured you were here to take somethin’ so I hid in yer old room. Though you should know I threw all yer stuff away. I wish it woulda been you come up there instead of Ashley, but she told me enough about what yer doin’ here without me havin’ to do too much damage.”
Janelle looked again at Ashley and now noticed a her lip looked a little swollen. A tiny spark of rage was ignited at that moment. She had dealt with his abuse for three years and justified it at every turn but she was furious at seeing one of her friends hurt, and all because of her. She glanced around the room searching for anything that might help her escape. James blocked the only exit and she had no doubt he would be willing to kill her and Ashley both, now that she had come back. She then noticed the makeshift bookshelf, empty of all content and the concrete blocks supporting the plywood. As discreetly as possible she tucked her mother’s locket into the back pocket of her jeans and edged her way toward the bookshelf. As she started to edge that way James tightened his grip on Ashley’s hair and she gave a little yelp. Ashley had said nothing thus far, only looking at Janelle with wet eyes and unspoken pleading.
“Please James,” Janelle said as she edged in front of the shelf, “Let Ashley go. She only came because I told her I was too afraid to come here by myself.”
James made a mocking body movement and said, “Oooo, scared! You always were shiverin’ and snifflin’ about everything.”
He spat on the floor in disgust. Janelle felt the top piece of plywood and gently lifted it in both hands.
“Ashley duck!” she yelled, and at that moment she hurled the plywood over her head toward James who stood nearly a foot higher than Ashley. The plywood sailed higher than she had intended, shattering the light bulb and leaving everything pitch black. Glass crunched beneath Janelle’s feet as she scrambled toward the door. She cursed as she banged her shin into a heavy crate, feeling for the doorway.
“Janelle!” she heard Ashley yell. Janelle heard someone struggling in the dark and reaching out she felt long thick hair in her hands. With only the best intentions for her friend, Janelle pulled Ashley by the hair toward where she thought the door was. She tripped over what she knew must be a limb and the next thing she knew she felt a strong hand close around her ankle. Screaming, she fell hard onto her knee dragging Ashley down with her. She braced herself with her free hand and felt blessed carpet beneath her fingers. She was in the doorway.
Kicking her other heel into the hand that grasped her foot she finally felt James release her with a shout and pushing herself up with both hands, she turned around hoisting Ashley up behind her. The two joined hands and raced up the stairs and out the front door without looking back. Across the field they ran, never breaking pace until they reached Janelle’s car.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“So, have you finally finished everything you needed to do?” Ashley asked casually
It had been two weeks since their frightening encounter with James. Janelle was fairly sure James wouldn’t call the police about the breaking and entering since she knew he had plenty of things to hide that if discovered, could get him thrown in jail. And he had no idea where Janell or Ashley were. Things had been peaceful, the girls were recovering from the injuries they’d received and so Ashley was shocked when Janell told her she had to go back.
“Not back into the house, “Janell emphasized at seeing Ashley’s alarmed look, “Just back to the Black Oak tree.”
She went that very night, taking with her a pocket knife and flashlight, making sure to keep the light focused solely behind the thick trunk so as not to attract attention. She held her mother’s locket carefully under her two end fingers and held the knife with her first three. She carved two letters into the bark for her mother. As she did she thought of the night they met at the Black Oak and made their promise.
“We start tonight,” Janelle had said, “with the resolve and two letters carved into this tree.
FR
Janelle had carved the letters carefully and they had agreed her mother would finish them in a few weeks, after they had both fulfilled their promise to leave their abusers.
Janelle now stepped back from the tree making sure the last two letters she had carved looked just right.
EE
“I’m sorry you died at the hands of the man you were planning to leave mom,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “The only piece of you I have left is free now though.”
She kissed the locket as she wept.
© Summer Owens, 2007
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All content on Summer's Nook, unless credited to someone else by the author, is the sole property of Summer Owens and may not be duplicated without permission.
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