WEP - Freedom

 

Freedom

 

Nevaeh stared into the abyss. Between the sheer marble and granite walls, lava flowed with the blinding brilliance of the sun. Pops of flame exploded in whirlpools of unfathomable appetite. The heat kissed her obsidian skin with desire.

She stared at the magma, a death that assured no resurrection. Was this a choice she could make? Death or an eternity in Hell with a mad man?

*****

Recuperating from her recent escape attempt, Nevaeh curled up on the furs in front of a fire. Voices outside her prison hut alerted her to visitors. Without looking, she knew Ohin had entered the room. The atmosphere felt heavy, airless. She sat up but still faced the fire.

"Feeling better?" Ohin asked with faux concern.

Despite forehand knowledge, Nevaeh's heart jumped in her chest. Her body stiffened at the sound of his caustic voice. The warmth radiating from the fire turned to waves of ice that girdled her bones and captured her heart in a glacial chill.

"Adom will never know that I was behind your kidnapping. Be careful, or you'll be the cause of his death." Ohin warned as he stepped closer and knelt beside her.

He reached out to touch her cheek. "Tell me why? I look just like Adom. We are twins. Why not me?"

Nevaeh pulled away in disgust. "I did not fall for Adom's looks. I fell for his heart. Something you do not possess."

Ohin growled like an animal, stood, and pounded his staff on the mud floor. "I am rich, powerful, more so than Adom. You will see, my Queen, power is more important than heart!"

"I prefer an eternity in Hell to a minute with you. I will never be your wife. Force me and meet your death!" Her words held power, but her petite frame and lack of weapons instilled no fear.

Ohin stepped back but waved off her threat. "At one time, you had a choice, my lady. Be mine or cross the Atlantic in chains. But now I make the choice for you."

"Your threats do not frighten me. Adom is no fool. He will uncover you're evil. Instead of destroying the slave traders, you are their chief caboceer. You are a traitor to your own people."

Ohin laughed. "You're so wrong, Nevaeh. I am a King, and I will have you." As he spoke, a stranger joined them. "Meet, Dr. Zheng. He has a way to make even the dead live. And he's brought proof."

The sound of a clattering chain intensified the cold and tightened her gut into a knot. Was he planning to chain her to her prison? Nevaeh jumped to her feet. She moved closer to the fire but gauged her chance for escape. Her illness caused her to sway, but she fought the weakness.

"Don't test me, Nevaeh. You'll marry me. You'll even love me. If you doubt that, believe this."

Nothing in life had prepared her for the vision before her. Screams formed in the deepest part of her, but she held them inside as one hand covered her mouth and the other clenched. She wanted to close her eyes but could not. An abomination of nature lumbered toward her, and she had nowhere to go but Ohin's arms. Death was preferable.

The man she knew as Goren, her kidnapper, the same man she had witnessed being fed to wild dogs, slowly moved into the light. His death was a truth she could not doubt because she'd seen the horror. Yet he stood before her, held on a chain by two large men.

He barely had clothes or skin but moved forward on his own two feet. The skin that remained hung loose where the ravenous beasts had ripped him open with their teeth. Muscle hung in purple shreds, and broken bones protruded in ugly bloody angles. The smell of death wafted off him like a putrid fog. A dead man lived.

Ohin's next statement pierced Nevaeh like a spear through the heart.

"I will have you—even in death. You will be mine always. Adom is busy with the war. He'll understand your choice and move on. He has an entire kingdom of princesses to choose from."

The proof of his words stood, decomposing before her. Goren's eyes held her gaze, golden brown, rimmed in red, and clouded by tears. His eyes pleaded with her because his mouth and his throat were missing. The horrendously deformed, half-consumed body understood, knew his condition. Goren was fully aware of his own miscreation.

Nevaeh saw the horror of her future.

Ohin smiled. "The doctor is a genius."

Ohin had underestimated Nevaeh's strength and the loyalty of his undead pet. Goren turned his anger toward his master and attacked Ohin.

In the melee, Nevaeh bolted. She made it through the mountain tunnel and once again stood above the Gulf of Fire. Her pursuer not long behind. Ohin held the scars of Goren's attack, but Dr. Zheng held the head of Goren.

Goren still had life in his eyes. Even dismemberment was no cure for the doctor's faux life.

Nevaeh made her choice.

Ohin approached and bellowed, "There's nowhere to go, my Queen. Accept your fate."

Nevaeh, unafraid, faced him.

Ohin's minions, her people, stood behind him. She saw fear in their eyes as they watched and waited for her surrender.

"Hear me, my people—revolt against this evil. Your numbers alone will defeat him. Death may be your fate, but there is honor in death when evil also dies. You have a choice!"

Her heels teetered on the edge of the precipice.

"Come Nevaeh, I've no more patience."

She smiled. "My destiny. My choice. FREEDOM!"

Nevaeh felt the arms of angels catch her as the fires of Hell opened to swallow her.

Ohin screamed as Nevaeh disappeared into the abyss. The crowd behind him, hearing her words, seeing her sacrifice, pushed forward to the edge.

The volcano bellowed its acceptance of the evil surrendered, and an entire nation celebrated freedom.

~~**~~

1000 Words

Yolanda Renée © 2021

 https://www.thoughtco.com/african-slavery-101-44535

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slavery_in_Africa

The Door of No Return in Ouidah.

Copyright Wikipedia

Memorial to the slave trade through the port of Ouidah.

 

xxx

WEP - Your Kiss

 

Photo by Fabrizio Verrecchia on Unsplash

Your Kiss

A connection unbreakable

enveloped in desire

abandonment

lips meet

complete surrender

home finally, home

 

Oh, that kiss

And everyone after

words can never describe

memories will never subside

a want seeking fulfillment

a place only lovers know

 

That kiss

stole my soul

imprisoned my heart

fulfilled every fantasy

more

please, more

 

That kiss

surpassed all dreams

nourished every wish

but time plays a cruel game

distance more harsh

still memories recall

 

That kiss

even today, years beyond

it's

that kiss

that I desire

and my heart requires.

Copyright 2021 Yolanda Renée

*****

Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

 

A Garden for All

 I plant hundreds of bulbs in the fall

anticipating colorful blooms next spring,

such a delight.

But under my nose in the dark of night

pesky squirrels dig and dig until they have taken them all.

 

I wait with anticipation but to my horror

in early April, then May, no blooms appear.

This mystery has to wait

for it's a garden, I must create.

 

I buy half-grown bushes, with flowers already popping.

This time I watch, as the deer, rabbit, groundhog,

and squirrels continue their robbing.

My garden is once again, bloomless.

As the mystery's answers unashamedly appear.

 

I curse those pesky invaders as I watch them cavort.

They play, and they hop, but their murdering essence I must stop.

After hours of research, new plants are bought.

A new garden planted

All in an effort to stop the evil wrought.

 

My garden is lovely

with flowers and shrubbery

in all their beautiful glory

a fitting end for this sordid tale

of creatures who love to forage.

Copyright 2020 Yolanda Renée

Good Riddance 2020

 

Photo by Jude Beck on Unsplash

What is there to say but good riddance 2020

Living through these last 12 months and for many, the previous 4 years, was a never-ending horror show

But things are changing not just the year but the evil that haunted it

A man with unlimited power and a virus with an unmasked goal

Prayers seemed to have gone unanswered

But the truth be known, we brought this on ourselves

There is no one else to blame

May we truly take stock and change our ways

For ignorance, selfishness, and hubris are sins, not values, for which we must all pay.

Happy New Year

2021

December's Hope

Wishing you a Happy, 

Joyful Holiday Season!

A Christmas candle is a lovely thing;
It makes no noise at all,
But softly gives itself away.
~Eva Logue

Christmas which is hope;
The spirit of Christmas which is peace;
The heart of Christmas which is love.
~Ada V. Hendricks

Please stay safe and well! 

WEP -UnMasked on New Year's Eve

 

Photo by Rodrigo Rodriguez on Unsplash

UNMASKED!

It’s Masquerade

Time to find your disguise

a costume and mask

for we’re all on parade

 better be wise.

 Make your decision judiciously

or your deepest secret will show through.

 On New Year's Eve

the truth is visible

and oh, so clear.

 If it’s deviousness

horror or evil you profess

it’ll be obvious

to those dead and most dear.

 So cover yourself strategically

or give yourself away.

 Just remember that ghosts of the murdered departed

are also looking

to make their creators

pay!

Photo by DANNY G on Unsplash

On New Year's Eve

Entertainment Tonight covered the entire story. From the day they met to the day she was reported missing. Her grieving husband, an up and coming movie producer, shed tears for the camera. The search for the young actress he’d taken for a wife went on for weeks, months, and years, but no clue, no corpse, no answer.

Ten years later, during the Emmy ceremony, Donavon Fagen, movie producer, celebrated with close friends, and for a moment, he thought he caught a glimpse of her. Yet, he knew better. She was dead. Fagen pushed his thoughts of her aside and ordered another drink.

Alone at night, her whispers woke him.

“I’ve searched and searched the Earth for you. You, who took my soul for your own. You, the demon who stole my innocence and brutally took my life. You left me in the desert with all the others.”

Donavon switched on the light, walked to his patio door, and stared out over the desert. Why was she haunting him now?

The next morning, he saw her reflection in his bathroom mirror. On the movie set, he spotted her in the crowd of extras. He began to drink earlier and earlier every day.

Her whispers became more graphic.

“Their skin shrivels in the scorching sun. Yet mine is still soft and supple. Their eyes were plucked out by the buzzards, and their innards were devoured by numerous beasts, but I am whole. Perfect in my grave of graves. Their bones were bleached, scattered, and sandblasted, but the evidence of your wrath remains. Spirits all, and how they hate you, my love.”

Donavon began to sleep with the lights on, but the daily visions occurred, as did the nightmares.

The night of the Hollywood Masquerade he wore the costume of the Marquis de Sade during a dance with a beautifully dressed La Senorita Spanish Flamenco Dancer. While dancing a slow dance she pulled him close and whispered in his ear, “Giving me repose in my own special grave does not lessen my heart’s desire. Revenge is my guaranteed destiny. I’ve wandered for years in search of you, my creator. Your evil is written on my bones. I’ll never forget your true essence. Those dark eyes, an abyss. Black holes with no light or reflection. Those sharp, pearl white teeth dripping blood after each searing kiss. I remember how your flesh showed years of decay, and how your claw-like hands burned my skin as you stole the last breath in my lungs. You’ve covered your evil well, but now I’ve found you, marked you. Unmasked on the night of a Masquerade, I alone see true.”

He tried to pull away, but she held him tight, and then suddenly, she was gone like a wisp of smoke. Several glasses of whisky couldn’t stop the tremors as he searched the room, but she was nowhere in sight. He sighed in relief.

A friend drove him home and finally with more whisky and a sleeping pill, he wiped away all the ghosts, but even unconsciousness couldn’t stop the whispers.

“I alone know your darkest secret. Killing the virtuous allows your survival on the Earthly plane. Stealing my love guaranteed your existence. And I, a naive bride, was blinded by what I thought was love and devotion. But my dear, soon the world will know the truth.”

Donavon, wide awake now, got out of his bed and opened the patio doors, but it wasn’t a cool breeze that greeted him. She stood before him, just as he’d last seen her.

“Join us, dear husband. We’ve come to claim our right.”

He screamed.

Then screamed some more,

but to no avail

as each of his victims

took back what he stole

until finally, she kissed him

and took his all.

 *****

January 2nd

Detective Grant arrived on the scene shortly after the discovery. “What do you have, Officer?”

“Donovan Fagen, movie producer. The coroner says heart attack, but if you ask me, that expression on his face says the man died from pure terror.”

“How?”

“My guess, all his victims. Look around, the place is a bone field.”

“And the girl, who is she?”

“His former wife. The young actress that disappeared ten years ago. Why he chose to uncover her grave, we’ll never know. But she’s well preserved.”

“Lots of killers enjoy visiting the graves of their victims,” Detective Grant said.

“His undoing this time. His other victims are scattered. It’ll take a while to figure out how many, but he’s been killing for a very, very long time.”

“Fools, so many fools,” a young girl spoke, but none stood in attendance.

They all heard the voice, then the sound of a young woman’s giggle, but the only people on-site were the officers removing the bodies.

A whoosh and the hot, desert breeze lifted the sand and swirled it in dust devil form that danced across the desert before all grew quiet again.

The Detective felt the hair on his body stand on end. “Maybe you’re right this time, Sergeant. Maybe this serial killer found that the spirits of the dead don’t lie quietly on New Year's Eve. I’d say justice has been done.”

960 Words

Yolanda Renée © 2020

Happy New Year!

***

I Did it!

I WON!

This year I had two projects to complete.

A Passion for Murder had approximately 20,000 words already completed. And a newer project, a suspenseful romance set in Myrtle Beach, I had about the same,

 just under 20,000 words.

Neither was close to being done. 

For some reason, this year,

I struggled to accomplish all I set out to do.

But with NANO, I had one final chance.

And

I finished the first draft of 

both stories during this challenge. 

Adding about 30,000 words to each.

The only way to do it was to just hunker down and commit to the writing. 

I ignored all else. 

But with the support of hubby

who did most of the cooking, it worked!

 I was determined to write daily. 

And I did.

I'm thrilled with the results.

Yay me! :) 

How about you, 

did you get there too?

 

For Opal: My Book of Poetry

Now Available the Kindle!

Heaven on Earth 

When I was seven

I found heaven

my grandmother's house

I was the city mouse.

With a large bed just for me

not one bed, shared by three

awake each morning

to a bird song melody.

Peace and quiet

and a pancake diet

amid the flowers and the trees

I explored every nook and cranny.

A crowing rooster, cows, and chickens

I helped out in the barn and the kitchen

a sewing lesson with needle and thread

soon exhausted, I curled up in my large bed.

Snakes and storms, roses and thorns

homemade ice cream and fresh corn

my escape from a family of seven

Grandma's Earthly home was heaven.

  Yolanda Renée (C) 2020

***

Coming Soon!

For Opal: My Book of Poetry

In paperback

For Opal is a collection of poems written in memory of Lilly Opal Stansberry, my grandmother, and the inspiration for my writing. These poems portray a moment in time. Highlighting love, loss, tragedy, and survival. A few done just for fun and several that have a murderous slant. But they are all a small picture of life. Some are real and others pure fiction.

Before she passed, I promised her I would publish a book of poetry. This is that promise kept. Publication date November 2nd - would have been her 108th birthday.

I'm under no illusion, a poet I am not, but each verse has meaning for me.

Maybe it will strike a chord for you too!

*****

Anyone willing to do a blog post for my poetry book. Let me know. I'll send you a copy and we can discuss the subject. 

Or a simple shout out would be most appreciated.

While this day is here, another one is near!

 

Photo by Andrés Gómez on Unsplash

Happy Halloween

Will this be a night of fear?

Or will the tricksters bring cheer?

Will the living count their blessings?

While the bereft search for the ghosts 

of loved ones taken too soon.

Because dear friends, voting day is near.

Do you want another four years filled with trepidation?

Or change, and a whole new nation?

It’s your choice.

Time to use your voice.

A vote for humble and true.

Or the corrupt evil that Trump spews?

A future where common-sense rules.

Or constant worry that dragoons

will soon knock on the door?

Please don’t hesitate.

You have a very important date.

Tuesday is November the third.

So please, make your voice heard!

Yolanda Renée (C) 2020

A Promise Kept

 Available Now!

Just Published

How Do I Love Thee?

 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning says it best.

But I have an answer to the question posed, just like the rest.

I love thee for washing the dishes.

I love thee for doing the chores and always answering the door.

I love thee for granting most all my wishes.

I love thee for doing the laundry and grocery shopping.

I love thee for pursuing and never stopping.

I love thee for working hard, especially in the overgrown yard.

I love thee for letting me nap and for not acting like a sap.

I love thee for loving me gently, taking me to the stars on a ride so heavenly.

I love thee for accepting my worst; our lives have been blessed, not cursed.

I love thee unshaven or perfectly coiffed.

I love thee unrobed or fully clothed.

I love your mind, for an intelligent man is hard to find.

I love thee because you are you

and because you love me

unconditionally.

  Yolanda Renée (C) 2020

***

Just Released!

For Opal: My Book of Poetry

For Opal is a collection of poems written in memory of Lilly Opal Stansberry, my grandmother, and the inspiration for my writing. These poems portray a moment in time. Highlighting love, loss, tragedy, and survival. A few done just for fun and several that have a murderous slant. But they are all a small picture of life. Some are real and others pure fiction.

Before she passed, I promised her I would publish a book of poetry. This is that promise kept. Publication date November 2nd - would have been her 108th birthday.

I'm under no illusion, a poet I am not, but each verse has meaning for me.

Maybe it will strike a chord for you too!

*****

Anyone willing to do a blog post for my poetry book. Let me know. I'll send you a copy and we can discuss the subject. 

Or a simple shout out would be most appreciated.

WEP Grave Mistake - Cleopatra's Curse

Photo by @rw.studios on Unsplash

Cleopatra’s Curse

Have you ever seen a beautiful young woman with a man that can only be described as ‘toadyish’? He’s at least twenty years older than her, potbelly, short, and mostly balding. She’s a towering model type: perfect body, perfect skin, just exquisite. You wonder, why, how, what?

Well, I’ll tell you. It’s all about the money. What else?

I married a very wealthy man—me, a girl raised in a trailer park who made a living as a waitress and dancer. People even referred to me as white trash, and yet, I made it to the top. And I mean the very top. Gold everywhere. Anything and everything I‘ve ever wanted and more, even acceptance. Now people want to know me, want to be invited to my parties. Hell, they clamor just to be in my presence or merely the same room.

My husband, as I said, is filthy rich, and yes, he bought me. But he also put a diamond ring on my hand and promised me that the world would bow at my feet. He kept his promise, and I’ve kept mine.

I take his abuse. It’s my only job. Make the man happy in the sack, anytime, anywhere, and anyway, he desires it. It was our agreement. I live in the lap of luxury and have people at my every command. Nothing I want is off-limits. I am fulfilled! I am rich, and his temper tantrums don’t last long, neither do the bruises.

You say why? I say, why not? Most of my life was hell: going to bed hungry, various uncles taking advantage at all ages. I was considered a whore before the age of thirteen. The few men I did learn to trust proved to be liars, but now I have a signed contract. Yep, got it on paper, all of it. And if he breaks any of the rules, he pays me a ten-million-dollar settlement.

It took a while, but I soon realized that most men are pigs. All they think about is getting the child, girl, or woman into their bed. And most will take advantage given just half a chance. And some will do it without any invitation or a so sorry immediately on their lips. Liars, users, rutting animals, the whole species!

So why shouldn’t I sell my soul for the best things in life? I couldn’t have gotten them any other way. This has worked for me for the last twenty years. But I will admit that I’m getting bored, and his violence comes much more often and without the usual financial reward. He’s been slipping but only to the point where he hasn’t broken the contract. I think it’s time to say sayonara!

We’re planning a Halloween cruise, so maybe the bastard will fall overboard and drown, leaving me a rich widow? All it will take is a little planning…

*****

Okay, so I figured the bastard wrong, the cheater. He’s not only broken our contract, but he’s also done me in. I can’t collect that cool ten million I was guaranteed because they don’t have lawyers on the bottom at the ocean, my new abode.

Hubby told the world that I fell overboard. Nice. But on Halloween night, the same night I planned his demise, he was a step ahead. I supposedly slipped on a wet deck during a masquerade party and went overboard in my beautiful designer Cleopatra costume, never to resurface again.

Dozens of men jumped into the ocean to find me but failed because, at that time, I was unconscious in the closet of our bedroom. When everyone finally retired, and the police reports were filed, my sweet, generous husband simply dumped me overboard with my feet solidly encased in cement. Yes, I was conscious, but my screams were muted by the gag in my mouth.

I cursed the bastard with each bubble that left my lungs as I tried my best to hold my breath. I did well until the cement my feet were encased in hit the sandy bottom, then in an instant, the air was replaced with seawater.

 

Exactly One Year Later

*****

Detective White carefully made his way into the Tower penthouse. The place was covered in water, sand, seaweed, dead fish, and seashells. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn the site was located on the bottom at the ocean.

“Well, Derek, what can you tell me?” Detective White asked the coroner as he stared down at the two bodies lying side by side in the king-size bed.

“They drowned. No doubt about it. But the why and how, your guess is as good as mine.”

“You sure it’s ocean water, doc? I mean, we’re in a high rise. The doorman said no deliveries were made today or this week. And he saw these two an hour ago, alive and well.”

“Positive. Their lungs are filled with seawater.” He pushed down on the man’s chest, and deep green water seeped out. “I’ve tested it. It’s seawater. Look at the fish, sand, and seaweed. Whoever crafted this murder wanted to make a statement.”

“Yeah, but did they leave any clues?”

“Just the remnants of lipstick on his face. It’s clearly not the same color this young lady is wearing. Maybe that unique color will tell you the dame that wanted this man dead.”

Detective White laughed as he moved to the chaise across the room. A sick sound that had the coroner looking at him oddly. “The only woman I can think of who’d want him dead drowned a year ago. His wife, remember, she went overboard during a Halloween party on his yacht last year. She was wearing a Cleopatra costume.” He held up the wet costume he found lying on the chaise. “I think she came back for a change of clothes and revenge…”

995 Words

Yolanda Renée © 2020

*****

***

Happy Halloween!