The Magic in Egg Sandwiches.

“It is spring, why is it so cold?” Cora asked.

I pressed against her back and slipped my arms around her shoulders, inhaling all the scents mingling together that were her. “Cora darling, it’s the first week of spring, as in closer to winter than summer. So,” I put my hands on her shoulders and turned her around, “I’m taking advantage of every chilly moment I can.” I kissed her gently. She had lips meant for that. Gentleness, not the macho movie kisses that bruised, although, there were moments for that as well. My eyes flared at the thought of last night.

Her nails softly scratched my shirt, sending electricity through my chest and beyond. “Mhmm. Do I look like I am complaining?” Her eyes almost closed and lips turned up at the corners, she knew I loved that look. I had started something and she meant for me to follow through to the finish.

I laughed and felt the vibrations in my chest. Her fingers increased their pressure. “No, and you would complain if you didn’t like it.”

“You got that right, bub.” Her emphatic nod of the head made her silky hair shimmer and slide across her cheeks. “And you are not complaining either.”

“Never,” I said.

“Even if you hated what I was doing?”

I brushed hair away from her face with my fingers. “Even then . . . maybe . . . well not really.” I smiled.

“Maybe I’m a witch, a wizard, and have you under a spell.” Her hands slid down and around my waist.

“In a way, I guess you are. There’s just some magic in truth and honesty and openness.” I squeezed her to me.

“Yep.” She leaned her head and shoulders back. “Well, honesty with respect thrown in. Like, if you made fun of my fondness for egg sandwiches I might not be so forgiving.”

I nodded. “I would never do that. I like them too. Besides, real magic in relationships means an absence of judgment of others, and that includes an obsession with egg sandwiches.”

“Good.” She rested her cheek against my chest.

“Speaking of egg sandwiches…” My hands began to drift.

“What about them?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Glenn, we just ate.”

“I didn’t say anything about food.”

Cora squealed as my hands stopped drifting.

~~~

Frank Ocean Magic QuoteWayne Dyer Relationship QuoteThis is the second time Cora and Glenn have showed up here on RW. Check out The Fortunate One, where Glenn meets Cora’s family for the first time . . .  and her ex-husband.

Colleen chose Magic for this weeks theme for her week of hosting our Writers Quote Wednesday Writing Challenge.


Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling on Amazon.

Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling Quote Image

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The Fortunate One.

“Men always want to be a woman’s first love – women like to be a man’s last romance.”
Oscar Wilde
Irish playwright, novelist, essayist, and poet.
October 16, 1854-November 30, 1900

When I arrived, a dream came true. Sunlight danced in her hair, made her skin glow, and all the world combined to make my heart beat faster.

We talked over each other in the excitement of our uniting. There were no angry glances or raised voices attempting to rise over the other. Our tones relayed the truth, words did not matter, we were ecstatic. It was euphoria; at least it was for me. Light headed, walking on a cushion of air, unable to stop smiling, you name all those cliché possibilities, and they were true. Why do you think they are so cliché? It is because they are real.

Was it love at first sight? No, but it was love at first shared thought. Now, there we were, at her doorstep, Christmas Day.

“It will be fine. I promise. They don’t like any man at first.”

I smiled. “You’ve told me that or something like that, a hundred times. I think your first choice has tainted their opinions. That or they just don’t trust your judgement.”

“Okay, perhaps. Just do not worry.” She placed her hand on my chest, leaned in, and smiled up at me.

I raised my brows in mock shock at her affections. “Nope, no kisses. You know they are watching through curtains and blinds all over the house.”

“I know. They will get over it. Now kiss me or I will pout.” She stuck her lower lip out, a fail of a pout that never worked, but I loved her attempts. She knew it. She knew I wouldn’t resist that bottom lip.

Moments of electric sensations sparking through the body later, and she opened door. That’s just the frame of mind I wanted to be in when meeting her family for the first time.

I could only shake my head at that point and avoid looking down to watch her walk in. I was being as gentlemanly as I could, but I was still a red-blooded American male in love with a beautiful mind and beautiful body.

“Glenn, these are my parents.”

“Mister Allen. Mrs. Allen.” I shook both hands. “Ma’am, this is for you.”

Cora’s mother looked surprised. “Me?” Her surprise did not stop her from taking the small gift I slipped from my pocket. Cora gave me an odd look as I shook hands with her brother, who made certain I knew he would kill me if I hurt his sister. I hoped I squeezed back hard enough to make a good impression.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Allen said. She held one hand to her chest. “It is beautiful.”

I smiled at the joy and surprise on her face. “I thought you might put a photo of each child and grandchild in the frames. There are enough for all of them. Of course, they would need tiny photos for a bracelet.”

“Buying your way in are you?” A loud voice rose broke the moment.

I thought Cora’s head would snap off she turned it so fast.

“Gary, what are you doing here?”

“How nice, I think I can visit my children on Christmas Day.”

You guessed it, Cora’s ex-husband.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Whatever, Cor. So this is the guy, is it?”

“Hello. I’m Glenn Taylor.” I extended my hand to be friendly.

“I know who you are.” He took my hand and made a feeble attempt that would have made Cora’s brother laugh.

He broke away and glared. I had never experienced a glare before. It was kind of funny and I had to smile. I don’t think he liked that. “You bring one of us a present, you must bring them for all, or you appear rude,” he said a bit too loudly.

“Sorry, they wouldn’t let me bring the coal on the plane.”

Laughs were muffled and some not. Their daughter’s giggle came out before she could bring her hand up to hold it in.

Gary’s eyes grew uglier. “Funny boy are you?”

“Only when they laugh, otherwise it’s just awkward pauses.”

“Think you’re a big man because you’re with her now, don’t you?”

I glanced down at Cora. The anger was barely contained. She was ready to unload on him at any moment. I looked back to Gary. “Actually, yes I do. I know how lucky I am.”

He laughed, and it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “I got lucky with her first.”

I pulled Cora to me a little tighter as I felt her move. “You were luckier than you could imagine. You are also a bigger idiot than any man could ever possibly try to be.”

“You son—“

“Don’t.” John, Cora’s brother, stepped in front of Gary.

“You gave this up. You messed a good thing up. You never would admit what she was, how important she was, or even that she existed as a unique individual that you needed in order to be whom you became.”

Cora looked up at me. I smiled and felt her ease beneath my touch.

I looked back at Gary. “Yes, you were lucky first. The important thing is that I’m fortunate last, and will be for the rest of my life.”

Oscar Wilde Romance Quote~~~

Thanks for reading!

This is part of the all new Writer’s Quote Wednesday Writing Challenge co-hosted by Colleen Chesebro of SilverThreading.com and ME, Ronovan. Click HERE for more links to those entering and to see how easy it is yourself. It’s not only writing a short story. That was just my choice this week. A quote, poetry, haiku, story, and more!


Click HERE to get my Adventure novel on Amazon!

Amber Wake

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The Library Date

The Library Date: A Flash Fiction Story

“Where you get that weave at?”

“Weave? Girl, you better hush. This ain’t no weave. I am all natural goddess.” I watched the two girls a few tables away. This was not going in a good direction.

“Girl, you the one better hush. Tellin’ me to hush. They got them so tight you can’t even blink. Go ahead and try. That is, if you can stop slappin’ your all ‘natural’ head long enough.”

“OOOOO, that was a burn for sure. She got her good with that one, Mac.”

I stood and put my backpack on my shoulder. “I’m out of here. They’re going to fight and I don’t want to be anywhere near it. Besides, I have a paper to research.”

My Italian-American baseball scholarship best friend wasn’t taking the hint that he should go too. “You go ahead. I’ll record anything that happens and post it. If it’s good, that is.”

“Don’t get caught in the middle of it or coach will eat you alive.”

He glanced away from the girls and up at me. “You worry too much. These are the last years we get to enjoy ourselves before being adults for real. Lighten up man. Find a girl. Go on a date. Kiss her. Do something. All books and no play makes Mac a depressed watch dog of a friend. Besides this is a girl fight. And you know what that means.” He put the sly smile on his face. Why did I choose him as my best friend?

I cast a last look toward the girls and saw the signs a fight was about to happen. Each was standing, had one hand on a hip, the other hand up with a finger working in the face of the other, and the head was going. I’d tried to do the head thing myself, for fun, but it was too painful. Men weren’t supposed to do that. Maybe it had something to do with women and their ability to look after children and families so well. They needed to see in all directions at the same time.

“See you later.” I zipped my jacket and headed away from anxiety central. There was always something going on here.

The air was crisp when I stepped outside the student center. Fall on campus was one of my favorite times. Light filtered through the orange and gold leaves and speckled the ground in front of me. Now where should I go?

I told Tony I needed to research so I could get away from the mayhem, but I did need to get that paper done. I couldn’t afford to burn the one lowest grade drop Dr. Goddard gave us for the semester. With two tests left before finals, I needed to do my best on something I had complete control over, just in case. I did not want to lose my 4.0. That meant, library time, and my date.

An hour passed with my head bent over a book. I loved history, a lot, but I wasn’t sure why I needed to know that old Louis didn’t want to conceive with Marie Antoinette, and her brothers showed up to get him drunk and circumcise him. Okay, so I know why I needed to know, but after almost four years of study, the details were beginning to play on my nerves. But the class was better than the Bosnia & Serbian class last semester. I never wanted to know the exact details of impaling and now I would never forget them. The guy Dracula was based on was one sick puppy.

My neck and back felt the pain of study or maybe I was having a sympathy pain in the neck for old Marie. Rotating my head to relieve some of the pain, a flash of silver caught my attention. The real reason I was in the library sat one table in front of me.

I didn’t know her name, was too scared to ask. She arrived every day at this time, sat at that table, and studied. She was beautiful, brainy, and real. But she was unreal at the same time. The necklace she wore seemed to signal me of her presence every time. I wasn’t even sure how the light reflected off it, but I was happy it did. That reflection had caught my eye that first time last semester.

Her hair was that dark brown so dark it looked black, and she was the most delicate looking creature I’d ever seen. But there was something strong about the look in her eyes as she read, and the way she sat. The way she moved between book and paper and drinking her bottle of water told of her determination and intelligence. I’d never seen her with anything other than water to drink. That must explain her skin.

Her head moved and I looked back down at my book. She almost caught me. My ears were beginning to burn. I hope she didn’t notice. If she did then she would know I had been staring at her.

~*~

Why doesn’t he talk to me? Does he not like me? Is it because I’m not from here? Americans can be so weird sometimes. I’ve been here every day since I saw him that time. Maybe I’m not pretty enough or he thinks I study so much because I’m not smart enough. Couldn’t he just say hello once? It must be warm in here, his neck and face are flushing. He should take that jacket off.

The Library Date: Flash FictionFor my Friday Fiction Prompt Challenge.

(For those who may wonder if I am trying to stereotype people during the beginning exchange, just ask women who have a weave done what happens. They have to have it done tightly so it lasts and you can’t scratch your head at that point so you pat your head to stop it from itching. If looks funny because if you don’t know what’s going on it looks like they are slapping themselves.)



Ronovan Hester is an author, with his debut historical adventure novel Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling due out in December of 2015. He shares his life as an amnesiac and Chronic Pain sufferer through his blog RonovanWrites.WordPress.com. His love of poetry, authors and community through his online world has lead to a growing Weekly Haiku Challenge, a Weekly Friday Fiction Prompt Challenge, and the creation of a site dedicated to book reviews, interviews and author resources known as LitWorldInterviews.com.

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In Search of Life #FlashFiction

“You’re such a liar.”

“Shut up. You have NO idea what you’re talking about.” I didn’t care if he did or not, but I wasn’t in the mood for anything he had to say right now.

There was only one problem with that. “That empty hole in your chest, the cold-hollow ache in your bones like a cancer…you know what it is.”  He just never knows when to shut up and didn’t give a crap about my moods.

“This is none of your business, so for the last time shut it.” If I clenched my teeth any tighter they would break.

“This is just as much mine as yours. I’m just not the coward here who’s afraid to admit the truth.”  I hated him. I wasn’t a coward, I just didn’t want to hurt again. I didn’t want the tidal waves to come pounding back in where her love had left from me.

“Ever think about what-ifs?” I didn’t expect or wait for an answer. “I live on them. They are my protein that keep me alive.”

“I know that, Walker. You think that’s news to me? You think I don’t know about your every feeling of dread at every wasted second without her?” If anyone would know it was him.

“I’m tired. This tornado of emotions I live, not knowing when the next moment will be…it hurts.”

“Which hurts worse…pain of never knowing or the pain after the joy of having her for those few brief moments? That is what you need to decide.”

“I already made my decision. Don’t you know that, Mr. Know-Everything? Would I be like this if I hadn’t? Do you think I could live without her…even if having her is for only minutes at a time?” I hated him. Why couldn’t he let me wallow in my self pity?

“I know all of that. I’m here to keep reminding you of it…lest you forget it.” I slammed the notebook shut.

READ ME NOW!

I stared at those words on the cover–words I had been reading for years.

Gripping the notebook in both hands, I tore it in half with only the binding keeping the two pieces together. The small trash can beside the hotel bed rattled and rocked from the fall of the notebook into it.

I didn’t want to read any more.

Walker: In Search of Life by Ronovan

(Tales from my drafts folder. I rarely share my fiction. I know good writing when I see it. But with limited computer abilities right now I thought I would show you why I review books and do interviews.)

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A beauty so high.

Stoneworth didn’t give a fig about life. As far as he was concerned it could end in a breath and that would be just fine with him. He had lived long enough and life was a bunch of bull. Every step he took he stepped in a big pile of a reminder of it.

“Mr. Stoneworth, may I have your autograph, please,” said the young girl.

Stoneworth looked at the book and pen offered. Gritting his teeth he put on his best fake grin and signed one of his somehow formulaic but popular mysteries. If he thought it all was crap then why did he care if the girl was happy or not? Perhaps he didn’t want it to be all bad, maybe he wanted a sign of something good. Or maybe he wanted to pay bills until the crap buried him.

He left the tip on the table and then the cafe behind. His burger was not even half eaten. It was not a normal bull day.

It was worse. It was like rodeo week and he was the head scooper.

He should have stayed home and eaten the frozen Chinese dinner. It would match the frozen ears he had from the early winter wind. His work was now going to suck the rest of the day and night and he was going to be hungry. Any flow of plot he had was gone. And he had a deadline. Ten days or death would be knocking at his door. Either death or his agent. They looked about the same.

His apartment smelled like burnt hot chocolate, not coffee. He had tried the stuff but couldn’t drink it until it had enough milk, sugar and chocolate syrup in it to taste like hot chocolate. Why waste the time and the money? Just cut out the middle men.

He looked at the wall thermostat and the screwed on lock box. Freaking landlord. 65 degrees. He left his coat on and turned the small electric heater on. He let it oscillate just to have some noise in the place.

Even though he knew his purpose of the day was ruined he sat down at the laptop anyway. The 1 appeared at the top of one tab of the many opened in his browser for research on ancient Central American civilizations. His thoughts improved with hope.

He had mail. The list of songs were long and not quite his usual fare but he listened. She had sent them. He didn’t listen to much music. It caused headaches. But from her, the headaches didn’t happen. They inspired him.

My beauty has given a gift to me

One I don’t often have time to take

It could not be more sweet and dear

Unless the music her own fingers did make

How is one so beautiful

How is she in my life

If by chance life did change

“Stoneworth!”

He looked up at the ghastly form approaching. He stared through it. Why would it not leave him be? The ghost of a past that was no longer his. All he wanted was the now, the reality of what is.

He did not need what was the never was. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands together until his fingers turned white. The music started again in his ears.

“Worthless! Invalid!”

Stoneworth moved his hands to his ears and pressed hard. Forcing the music in. Driving the hate away.

The pain seared through his brain and down his spine. Cackling laughter reached his now unprotected ears. He slowly sank to the floor unable to control his movements. His body arched as spasms began.

Laughter.

Music.

Laughter.

He shut his eyes tight. Focus on her eyes, those brown eyes, focus. The cackling continued. The pain continued. But suddenly he did not care. He felt warmth touch his skin. A smile crossed his face. It didn’t matter. There was a light he could see now for the first time. And music. He was climbing higher and higher. His dream was there, higher than he had ever been before. A beauty like he would never witness again.

**

“What happened?”

“I don’t know officer. I came in when he missed his deadline for a book he was writing and found him.”

“Did you turn that heater on?”

“No officer. It was already going. I moved it away from his face though. It was really close.”

“Well, it looks like a heart attack.”

“He always said that’s how he would go.”

“Well, this looks like another case he solved before he ever got a chance to write it.”

stoneworth

Ronovan

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