This is another installment of my detective story, for those who wanted it – thank you for waiting 🙂
“I give up.” She looked tired and exasperated, and he knew he’d gone too far this time.
“You give up? That’s a lie if I ever heard one. You never give up on anything.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” she said, “and this is the day I give up on you. You won’t be serious, you turn everything into a joke, and you constantly just…. yank my chain, rattle my cage….”
“Nice metaphors there,” he approved.
“See, there you go again – you just can’t help yourself, can you?”
He actually wanted to bite out his own tongue at this point. “Hey, look, I’m sorry. I really am. It’s just the writer in me. I see something amusing or ironic and I can’t seem to stop myself.”
“I haven’t got the time to spend on working out what exactly is wrong with you, apart from narcissism and fame overdose, but I would like to get the true story about your involvement in Denny Clay’s death. If it’s possible for you to tell a story without embellishments.”
“Sure, I’ll tell you the truth. No embellishments, no gilding, just the true story. It’s a joke. Between Denny and me. Years ago he told me he could help me find the key to the door of a successful life. He encouraged me in my writing, gave me advice…. And then he rejected my manuscript. I was disappointed to say the least.”
She held up her hands. “Whoa whoa whoa, hang on- you realize you’ve just basically incriminated yourself?”
Gently-born ignorance pushes the light away
Further down that tunnel
Ill-conceived ideas can lead anyone astray
Even the well-meaning among us.
If only genius would remember this
When facing decisions that aren’t his.
He looks like such a star
Clutching his Fender like a child
Studs, leather, the whole shebang
He holds them all enthralled
Works his spot
Get in the zone, make them scream
Sing, play, and exert yourself
But if they only knew
What it’s like
Killing the nerves, up all night
Drinking just to keep the rock
His ‘ecstasy’ is just that
Fuel his work
Lost self and friends as well
‘Yeah I want to be a rock star’
I’ve always been one for odd longings. When I was about fifteen and most of my friends wanted to go to Florida or Spain, I had a deep obsession with Iceland. This was partly because I also had an obsession with a certain male singer who hailed from Iceland …. But only partly. For years I borrowed every book in the library that might possibly say something about Iceland – I couldn’t get enough. I drove my family mad, rabbitting on about the early settlers and the ironically peculiar fact that Iceland is green and Greenland is icy… I learnt how to say ‘hello’, ‘thank you’ and, importantly, ‘I love you’ in Icelandic. Which is, by the way, a beautiful if somewhat complicated language. This went on for years.
Now, I suddenly find myself obsessed with Canada. This is only a very recent obsession so I haven’t yet reached the borrowing-every-book stage. Some friends of mine came back from holiday to Canada (Banff, which I think is a fantastic name) armed with a tonne of deep-envy-inducing photos. Lakes, mountains, trees, snow, clear skies…. I looked, and looked, and had to roll my tongue back into my skull in a manner reminiscent of a woodpecker. Suffice it to say, the photos did their work – I am deeply envious.
The problem is, flights to Canada are not cheap. And I am not rich. Quite the reverse. So it may be a while before I can actually satisfy my obsession. Ah well, c’est la vie.
Can you guess?
It was the charge of the century, famous thereafter mainly for its bloodied infamy
For the want of communication the battle was lost
And Florence was left to pick up the broken pieces.
“No,” said his lordship firmly. “I will not be dictated to by anyone, and especially not by dead persons.”
Lord Clifton was not usually a difficult man, nor was he accustomed to belligerence, but there was no getting around the fact that his late father’s will was of a most peculiar kind.
His brother looked worried, and with good reason. Although not exactly given to stubbornness, Clifton could be … determined. And the trouble with that will was that the family of the other party involved probably knew about it and would be expecting developments.
“Marcus, I know this is very irregular -”
Clifton snorted. “Irregular? Father must have been out of his mind, Harry, and that’s all there is to it.”
“You know what he was like, Marcus – once he got something into his head, I doubt an angel from heaven or a thousand devils could have driven it out.”
“Ay, more’s the pity. I don’t want to disrespect his wishes, Harry, even though we were not … close … but neither do I desire to be leg-shackled for life to a simpering schoolgirl I have never met, merely because my late father thought it a good match. How old is this Miss Munro? Eighteen? I couldn’t do it, Hal. She’ll probably have to hide her colour every time I speak, and be completely tongue-tied. Or worse, gushing.” He shuddered.
Harry coughed. “You know, Marcus, although you have never met Miss Munro, you forget that I am acquainted with her.”
His lordship had forgotten. He turned surprised eyes on his younger brother. “You are? Well, tell me, man – what sort of girl is she?”
“Pretty. Not your usual fare, but pretty. And neither shy nor boisterous. I have never known her to be gushing. Her mother, I grant you, probably does enough of that for both of them. But Miss Munro is a very nice young lady.”
Clifton sighed. “Oh, very well. I will visit them. But only if you accompany me.”
This is the first challenge of its nature that I have ever attempted so please bear with me, everyone 🙂
Peace comes from knowing you are right, and yet there is more to it than that.
Peace also comes from looking for the best in people and situations, and yet there is more to it than that.
Who could deny there is peace to be found in trees and lakes and mountains and seascapes? Such peace as that swells the soul to bursting point with beauty and joy – and yet there is more to it than that.
Peace comes from having faith, and yet still there is more to it than that.
Really, it’s a very complicated thing, peace. Which is probably why so few people have it. The important thing is, once you have found it, to keep hanging onto it like an anchor. Peace is complex, but it is also vital. Without an anchor, a ship will drift into disaster. Without peace… Well, just look at the news! Peace must be sought, it must be pursued, it must be made, and it must be kept. All of those are very active concepts. But in order to give others peace, one must first have found it for oneself.
every day is worse
those who can
must hold onto peace