Category Archives: From the Lost Peacefulblessedstar

posts from the lost blog

Spell of The Broken

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The old woman turned and smiled a sinister smile. The floor felt sticky and all of a sudden, I felt trapped.

Her the spider.

Me the fly.

She turned back around, stuck a long match and proceeded to light three candles. She shook the match which caused sparks to shoot from it. She then stuck the matchstick in the grey bun on top of her head.

“I lit three candles to rid the room of evil energy,” she said as she extended an invitation for me to sit down in a black wicker chair with a red seat cushion. I did, and became even more uncomfortable, if that was even possible. She sat down in a desk chair behind a large screen so that all I could see was the top of her bun.

“The couple who was here before you, their four year old was missing. She had been missing for three months. I told them she was kidnapped by a pedophile, raped repeatedly, and buried in the woods not too far from here. The father leapt from the seat where you are sitting now and choked me. The mother chanted in Latin and the police came in my store and arrested him. I can’t have those kinds of evil Spirits loose in here. I had to purify my dwelling.”

“As for you, Love does not happen with spells or potions. Obligations or traps. It is Spiritual. Natural. He will never Love you the way he Loves her. She is one of us. The Lightworkers. You will never be as bright as her.”

I angrily reached for my purse to pay the wretched witch. She held up one finger to halt me.

“Like the Shea’s I do not take money from pawns of darkness. Leave; find Light. And don’t think about recasting the spell. He has already been purified by her kiss.

Then she appeared from a back room. My skin instantly became hot. What kind of woman would do that to another?

“The kind of woman who doesn’t have to buy Love because it is already glowing within her. He is attracted to that glow” Then she giggled, “and a few other attributes but you do not need to know that. Let your imagination run wild. Wild. Yes wild is appropriate.”

She can read my mind, fuck!!!

Then the young woman smiled sweetly and turned around.

© michele mitchell, 2014

Story Prompt: http://shortstoryideas.herb.me.uk/firstlines.htm

Photo credit: www.scenicreflections.com

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Peace, Love, Understanding (Ghazal)

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sultry summer kiss ignited our new Love

over years we kept it aflame admitting this is true Love

 

trials, tribulations, sordid situations forced us apart

holding on to fragments of broken hearts. what to do, Love?

 

soothing the painful past with our passion that lasted

along with patience, faith and trust we’ll make it through, Love

 

too many had betrayed or may have led your heart astray

i understand as that had happened to me too, Love

 

but once you wished on that Star, Peace no longer seemed far

and i promise to illuminate solace for you, Love

 

© michele mitchell, 2014

photo credit:https://fbcdn-sphotos-d-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/t1.0-9/1017372_525645624155240_2067465526_n.jpg

precious granddaughters


precious granddaughters

Giggling bubbles of happinesS
Rays of sunshine which seem to shimmeR
And never lose their shinE
Now it’s a given they’re intelligenT
Designing their own triumpH
Destined for greatness from the beginninG
And perfectly designed like a haikU
United syllables within a stanzA
Gorgeous in the face and gifted in the minD
Honest, considerate and kinD
Three angels straight from heaveN
Each one has a brilliant aurA
Replicas of their beautiful motheR
Singing in harmony the most melodic sonG

© michele mitchell 2013

Prompt: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/12/12/daily-prompt-my-precious/

Artwork by “Star” © 2013

twenty years too early (crushed)

 

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dedicated to hm

imagine the bust of basquiat dipped in onyx

spun gold woven into his locks

each word uttered naturally

seduces like the Love letters of Rumi

empowers anarchists with clenched fists to abolish societies assimilation

demolish medias demonic hypnotizing while keeping commentary current

flowing like water

falling free like skywriters

special smoke allowing cloudy verses to kiss the Sun

opening its beams to reflect on realms with oceans to tiptoe upon

while waiting to wade in waves molded by Moonlight’s

new birth in the changing tides

© michele mitchell, 2014

Photo credit: http://blackartinamerica.com/photo/nijel-binns-basquiat-bust

 

 

 

meeting of the souls

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“So are you excited about Hawaii?” My brother asked me.

“Yeah, but not for the reasons you think.” I answered.

When I arrived on the beach in Maui. I took the longest inhale I could ever remember taking. If heaven has a scent, it would be that of orchids and salted sea air. I exhaled slowly as I wanted to linger in the aroma for as long as I could.

Then, I saw him. The scene looked like a brochure. Jean-Michel was sitting Indian-style on a huge wicker mat surrounded by shells different shapes and colors. His locks were probably down to his waist now, but he had them tied up in a bun atop his head. His smile rivaled the sparkle in his eyes as he grabbed my hand to help me sit down next to him.

“You’re not going to publish anything we say here today are you?” he asked as he offered me a piece of mango from a Tupperware bowl.

I took a piece and smiled warmly, “Not without your permission.”

“Good.” He then took a shell and started scribbling crowns and birds in the wet sand.

“So you never stopped creating?” I asked him.

“Does anyone? We are always creating something. Goals, meals, excuses, our own hype even.”

“Did you create your own hype?”

He sighed and rubbed his bronzed cheeks leaving streaks of sand that crept into the creases of his smile.

“So you think my success was hype?” He asked wrinkling his nose at me.

“No. I was just piggybacking off your statement.”

“Great choice of words. I am having a luau later. Would you like to join me?”

“I can’t think of a reason not to. Who else will be there?”

“Us, Andy, and the pig.”

“Andy is here with you?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Well where is he?”

He took a fistful of sand and let it fall through his fingers. A breeze caught it and sprinkled some sand in the container with the mango. “He is so porcelain; he can’t enjoy the sun. He will join us at sundown.
I dared not ask where we would be. I’m sure he would tell me. Besides, I had so many other things I needed to know about soul mate with only twenty nine more days to ask.

“I am honored that you invited me here. So thank you.”

He popped a piece of sandy mango into his mouth and giggled as the nectar dripped down his chin, “How could I not. You’re story about my whereabouts intrigued me. Not too many people think about me anymore.”

Stunned, my mouth dropped open in a gasp, “You’re kidding me?! You are an artistic icon!!!”

“But my paintings aren’t what I am speaking about. From your letter, you wanted to get to know me.”

My heart pounded, “I do.”

He smiled, “You have mango juice on your chin.”

“I do?”

“Let me get that for you.”

Then he kissed me.

Prompt: http://www.pw.org/writing-prompts-exercises/historical-flash-fiction/jan-29-2014

Photo credit www.timeoutchicago.com