Readers delight in Snip Snip by Zach Abrams The Price of Revenge by Lisa Day Fog by Becky Goddard Rizek
In This Month’s Issue: Stories from writers around the world Snip Snip The Price of Revenge
Review A Cinderella Review
Features
Inspiring Pieces
Your book catalogue
Labor of Love Fog
Letter from the editor Welcome to the third edition of Imagine This online magazine. I am very excited to have writers share with you their stories and truths of the world. Know with each writer that they have written at least one book. Please do support their talents and read their incredible stories. This month I was delighted to review the wonderous Cinderella performance by the Queensland Ballet. As well as add to Jeremiah’s TV episode in his plot to make a career from acting, in the Epic Screenplay. Please note, writers have submitted content from all around the world, so I have left spelling of their language as is, even if in another country, the word is spelt differently. Be sure to spread the word of this free online magazine and tell me what your favourite piece is at imaginethismagazine@gmail.com. Yours sincerely,
Melanie Toye Editor of Imagine This Click here to become a fan on Facebook Interact on our blog at: http://imaginethismagazine.wordpress.com/ Disclaimer Not all opinions in this publication are necessarily those of the publishers. No responsibility is taken by Imagine This Publications for any errors, misleading information or the validity of any third party content. This articles, information and anecdotes are not necessarily the original work of the editor or writers. Content thereof published by Imagine This remain the property of Imagine This and cannot be reproduced under any circumstances without prior consent. All published information, to the best of Imagine This knowledge is correct at time of publishing. Copyright Copyright © of all images included in content within this publication, unless stated otherwise, are from 123RF Stock Photos at http://www.123rf.com/. All content submitted by a third party is copyright to the author.
Snip, Snip By Zach Abrams Author of Ring Fenced & Made a Killing, Coauthor of Twists & Turns Snip, snip, it was the story of Harvey Todd’s life. He was forty years old and he’d lived in the same house all his life. It was a nineteen sixties’ built, three-bedroom, end terrace villa, with a through lounge and dining room, situated on the edge of a rural village, close to the town of Fleet in Hampshire. At five foot four tall, he was bald as a coot and had a round, clean-shaven face with little piggy eyes. Because of this appearance, and being very softly spoken, Harvey was considered rather insignificant. He was very camp in the presentation of himself and, although not particularly artistic, he tried to do everything to perfection and was rather obsessive in his behaviour. Most people considered him to be insufferable. Harvey was a keen gardener and spent most of his spare time with his secateurs, pruning and shaping. He even used them to make the finishing touches to his neatly manicured lawn, at the side of the property. It was snip, snip all the time. As a youngster, Harvey had trained as a barber and it was the same story, snip, snip all the time. He didn’t really enjoy his work as he was never happy with any haircut he worked on and always thought he hadn’t achieved the result he’d intended. He always wanted to make another ‘last’ snip to finish the job. Most customers couldn’t be bothered with his time consuming and pernickety behaviour. They wanted to be in the chair, and out again, as soon as possible, so as to get on with their lives. There were a number of bored, retired gentlemen who were happy with anything which would help to fill their day and they thrived on his attentions but, in the main, when the customer had a choice, Harvey was only selected as a last resort. Harvey lived alone. He’d been an only child and had not been planned. His mother had been thirty nine and his father forty four when he was born. Although he’d been well cared for, he’d also clearly been an inconvenience to his parents’ mature lifestyle. Harvey became an orphan before reaching the age of twenty and had inherited the house and a small legacy which, taken together with his meagre earnings, permitted him a comfortable, if not affluent, existence. Over the previous couple of years, Harvey’s life had become increasingly miserable because of the persistent attention of a group of teenagers who lived in his neighbourhood. It started by them calling him names whenever they passed him. They nicknamed him “Sweeney” after his legendary Victorian namesake and because of his profession. Harvey made the mistake of letting them see
how much it upset him, which gave them massive encouragement to continue. They goaded and dared each other to be bolder and more aggressive with their taunts and seeing Harvey’s devotion to his garden, it became an easy target. They would collect litter and spread it all over and, on a couple of occasions, they even dug up some of his beloved plants after he went out to work. Harvey became more and more incensed by their actions. He repeatedly complained to the police and the community council, but they showed little interest. He could often be seen standing guard over his property and he hated to leave the house as he didn’t want to give the little swine their opportunity. Sadly, this reaction only motivated the youngsters even more. Harvey’s life could hardly be considered dynamic, but the highlight of each year for him was always the garden show organised by the local church. Harvey devoted months of effort in an attempt to ensure his blooms and his vegetables were at their peak at the precise time of the show’s judging. For many years he had managed this with great success and came home victorious, with a clutch of awards and prizes. This year’s contest had been very different. During the week before the show, Harvey returned from work one evening to find his garden in a state of devastation. Many of his plants had been uprooted, the heads of his prize blooms were spread across the garden and his greenhouse had been trashed. Harvey collapsed onto the soil and wept. ‘How could they be so cruel?’ After a while, he picked himself up and dragged his miserable frame into the house to phone the police. Between his crying and ranting, his protest wasn’t particularly coherent. Whether because of this, or his interminable previous complaints, the police did not even bother to call round. They told him they had more urgent matters to deal with, but, if he cared to come to the station, he could complete an incident form. Harvey became paranoid. He suspected the damage to his garden was not random vandalism or thuggery, but instead, had been a conspiracy to intentionally stop him from succeeding in the flower show. He became suspicious of his neighbours and spent more and more time patrolling his garden and he even set traps. He hated having to go out to work, but when his boss informed him that his contract was being terminated, he was no happier. In the past, he’d never been a prized staff member and his obsessive behaviour had barely been tolerated. Customers started complaining and threatened never to return. They cited his incessant rants about punishing and chastising the local children and needing armed guards to protect his house. This made his continued employment unsustainable. Harvey knew his life was a disaster. After taking time to consider his options, he made the bold decision to sort himself out. He thought he should have a fresh start, probably working at something completely different. He didn’t know what or where, but he reasoned with himself it would be best to take a holiday, to clear his head, and make ready for a new life. He stripped out his bank account and went to the local travel agent to book flights and accommodation for a four week stay in New York. Harvey had never travelled abroad before and it was not until he’d made the reservations that he realised he needed to organise a passport. Fortunately, there was still one week to go before his flight. It required a lot of frantic running around, but by the morning he was due to depart, he had all his travel documents, a new credit card, travellers’ cheques and a neatly packed suitcase. Harvey arrived at Heathrow very early for his flight. He took great exception when the security officer insisted he open his case for it to be checked and he was absolutely livid when all his impeccably arranged packing became disrupted. Harvey became quite vocal in his protestations before being led away to a private room where he was cautioned about his behaviour. It was only a marginal decision by the authorities which enabled him to proceed with his journey.
The flight passed without incident. After a long delay at immigration, Harvey was admitted to the USA and made his way to Manhattan, where he progressed to check into his hotel. Then he spent the remainder of the day becoming acquainted with the area. It all happened on his first day after arrival when Harvey went down to a local cheque cashing and exchange shop. He hadn’t yet worked out how to use the hotel safe and his wallet was bulging with Sterling notes and travellers’ cheques which he intended to transfer into dollars. There was a queue of four people in front of him standing in line. Suddenly, a man burst through the door. He was a big man, well over six feet in height and stocky. He was wearing a latex mask which was an image of George W Bush and he was carrying a gun. The man waved the weapon about and told the teller to hand over all the money. He then turned his attention to the queue, pointing the gun to each of them in turn and yelling for them to empty their pockets and hand over their watches and their jewellery. Harvey was panic-stricken; this was his new life descending into ruin before it had even begun. He had lost his job. He had no friends. He was in a foreign land and now he was going to lose all his money and any chance of starting again. Harvey doesn’t know the details of what happened next as his mind went a total blank. What he does know is that he heard a piercing, high pitched scream. Stunned witnesses reported that the primitive noise emitted from the diminutive Englishman as he launched himself at the armed man. The gun went flying when Harvey rained slaps and punches onto the shocked villain’s head and body as they both tumbled to the floor. A pair of what appeared to be manicure scissors appeared in the little man’s hand. Then he snip, snipped away the mask of the would-be robber. The other customers had to pull Harvey back and restrain both him and the criminal as he tried to poke and prod the scissors in a more ruthless attack. ***** Everything has changed. Harvey is now a celebrity. He frequently makes guest appearances on local and national American television and his photograph has been displayed on the front pages of newspapers on both sides of the Atlantic. He greets each day with enthusiasm, enjoying the recognition as Harvey the hero, having already been acclaimed in the headlines “Sweeney (Harvey) Todd, avenging barber of Fleet.”
Do what makes your heart sing. ~ Melanie Toye
All Secrets Told by Samantha Carter Kate was born to a mother who had already shown signs of an abusive and cruel nature. Her grandmother unsuccessfully tried to keep her eldest granddaughter safe but when the new family emigrated to the other side of the world, young Kate’s fate was sealed. As the eldest of a large family she knew it was her job to defend and protect her siblings, be the household slave and try to make her mother happy and her father notice her once in a while. Kate’s job ended when she was forced to marry a man she feared. Her siblings never forgave her for abandoning them; leaving them in the hands of a woman whose rages never ceased. . The die was cast for a life of abuse, fear and depression. The life of Cinderella the doormat. The one thing that kept Kate’s indomitable spirit alive and safe was hope and a tiny sliver of selfrespect that said she didn’t deserve the life that she was living, even though she believed she had no choices. Kate’s survival strategy was to comply with their mothers demands and do all that was demanded of her, while expecting nothing of herself. After many years the strategy failed and Kate found herself down a rabbit hole of insanity. Her journey to free herself from depression and gain awareness had begun… A journey to finally put her past to rest and to discover who she is . Kate is soon to realize what courage really means when evil returns to terrorize her. She discovers that she has little time or energy for the one thing that she had previously given herself so freely to…..fear ; so when physical pain threatens her very life, she rediscovers that her spirituality is, as always there to protect, heal and give her the strength to survive once again. Most of all Kate knows that the best that life has to offer can never be destroyed, no matter how hot the flames. This is a heroic journey of a woman who is betrayed, abused and abandoned; who meets the true tests of courage and self-belief and who finally reaches enlightenment to discover what love truly is….
Review by Sharon Pak: Heartbreaking!!! It was the realisation of how fragile a child's
Heartbreaking!!! It was the realisation of how fragile a child's mind and spirit is and if abused how a lifetime of pain can follow and the effect this can have on those who share the onwards journey! Interesting also to note that each child exposed to this childhood trauma reacts and responds in a different way........is it a blocking of the reality or is it that something else? The overriding message is surely that one must always treat our offspring with the utmost respect to enable them to not only return it but to emotionally grow and mature! A compelling, sad story, I shed many tears reading between the lines! Sam Carter is also demonstrating how well she can write....I shall look out for more of her writing! Click here to buy All Secrets Told
Labor of Love
By Jessica Kong Like so many little girls growing up, I had dreamt of one day getting married and having kids. What I didn’t dream about, or even considered, was that it may never happen. I had my whole life planned out, step-by-step. It was going to be easy, I foolishly thought. Why? I had been brainwashed. As I grew up, everyone kept telling me, “You’re pretty. You’ll have no problems finding a great guy in college. Don’t worry. Don’t rush it.” My idealistic heart had believed them, so I didn’t. Since the age of ten, men had flirted with me. Two men had went as far as declaring their undying love and proposed. I was only seventeen at the time. Needless to say, my self-confidence was overly inflated by the time I graduated high school. With little dating experience under my belt, I had entered college with bright dreams and fresh ideas. The first year was a real eye opener. I had dated a college student, and that nightmare lasted two weeks. Halfway through my second year, I began to worry. My friends and family laughed at me. They simply did not understand. I had these detailed plans of getting married, spending the first few years alone with my husband, then starting a family, all before turning thirty. Time was ticking.
Some dreamt of being a doctor, others a lawyer. I dreamt of being a kindergarten teacher, with a family of my own. I was beginning to believe that my future was going to turn out differently than what I had dreamt. Remaining hopeful, I continued with my studies. A week after my twentieth birthday, I met a young man. He was smart, handsome, and had a great future ahead of him. We had dated for three years before getting married. Part one of my childhood dreams had come true. Yet still, in the back of my head that clock was ticking. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. After being married for five years, we decided it was time to make part two a reality. This led me to another obstacle—infertility. For three years, we underwent a religious regiment of infertility treatments, which ended up being the same—unsuccessful. I can’t explain how distressing it was, or how heartbroken I was. I had sincerely believed I would never experience the joy of carrying a child in my womb, or the depth of happiness a mother feels when she holds her baby for the first time. Fate placed another obstacle in my path. Depression had taken over my life. My husband did his best to console me. He had assured me his love would not lessen any if we did not have any children, for that was not the reason he had married me. I was touched by his words. However, there were still my childhood dreams of a loving family that would not release its grip on my soul. This had placed a strain on our relationship. My schoolwork suffered. My work suffered. I suffered. Several sessions with a counselor, plus my supportive husband, gave me the courage to take the next step forward. I placed all my faith and strength in God, and went ahead with IVF. I was certain after two weeks the procedure had failed. I went to the hospital for a routine blood work. I saw the other patients who had their procedure done at the same time, and started talking to them. I told them mine had failed. I was that positive. A few hours later, I received a phone call at my mother’s house. It was my doctor. “Here it comes,” I had said to myself. Once again, it was not what I had expected. God had smiled on us. Our first sonogram had showed we were blessed—three times. To increase my chances of carrying to term, I left school and finished my job. A few months after turning thirty, at thirty-three weeks, I gave birth to three healthy, beautiful babies—two boys and a girl. More than what I had dared to hope for. With the birth of my triplets, I have learned many things. One being I was mentally stronger than I first believed. Second being the realization that I did not want to be a kindergarten teacher. Nor did the prospect of returning to the workforce as an administrative assistant make me happy. Therefore, what was I going to do once my children no longer needed me around the clock? My childhood plans had not gone that far. One day, I sat in front of my computer hoping to escape into a world that I had complete control of. As I played my video game, I glanced at my babies as they played around me in their tshirt and diapers. An intense love and joy filled my essence. I thought of how love, sacrifice, and dedication had created them. I recalled an image, a scene from a black and white movie. I had never seen this movie, only the one scene where the couple had lay on the beach in an intimate embrace as the incoming waves washed over them. The scene depicted a profound love—a love that can create miracles like my babies. I began thinking about my favorite books and movies like Jules Verne, Star Trek, and James Bond. Even though these stories were great, there was something I wished the characters had done differently. This led me to ask the ‘what if’ question. What if the man on the beach was a secret agent and the woman he held in his arms was an alien from another world that he was protecting from his government?
I watched my daughter play with a stuff cat. I love large, wild cats. So what if this alien humanoid evolved from felines? After all, felines can have litters of multiple kittens. My mind began showing me a storyline I found interesting and exciting. I quickly turned off my computer game and opened up a word document, and started typing. As I wrote about this blossoming romance, the couple became more real to me. Their story continued to unravel in my head. It began to include family members, best friends, traveling into space, even a timeline. As my triplets grew, I wrote storylines about truelove, sacrifice, a powerful family bond, and great faith in a higher power from that one beach scene and my three Rugrats. A new career path was before me. I self-published my first book with my husband’s encouragement. A Lost Kitten is a paranormal romance with science fiction elements entailing the firstborn son of that spy and alien feline. The hero, John McCall escapes a space station explosion but is lost in space and stranded on an unknown planet that turns out to be a ghost planet. Since John is part feline, he is highly sensitive to his environment. He soon encounters the spirits. One spirit in particular affects him the most. During his stay on the planet, John tries to uncover why. He eventually discovers this spirit is his soulmate. Now what is he to do? Should he stay with his dead soulmate, or should he return home and search for his missing family? A Lost Kitten is the first installment in my Sea-anan Saga, for John’s story is not the only one that demands to be told. His large family is scattered throughout space, each encountering their own adventure. One by one, I wish to share their stories with my readers and help them ‘escape their chaotic world’, if just for a few hours. Starting a new career in writing while raising triplets is not an easy task, but I love my kids to death, and I love writing what is in my heart. They are both a labor of love that keeps me going. Without either, I have nothing.
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An Epic Screenplay
Written by Melanie Toye Episode 3: A big day of judging Scene: Jeremiah and chase arrive at the college theatre room doors. Hundreds of people are living up to go backstage. JEREMIAH: Wow. This is a huge line up. CHASE: (looks at the talent. He winks at a girl) JEREMIAH: (elbows Chase in the ribs.) "Reember what Miss Mary Lou (check name), use your brain not your hormones. CHASE: We haven't started judging yet. Look at those woman over there (he points to two women dressed in very seductive attire). It would be unmanly to take advantage of our status right now. JEREMIAH: (smiles) "What's our status?" CHASE: "Judges. Women love judges."
JEREMIAH: "They love us only if we choose them in the audition." CHASE: (frowns) You mean it's not because they think we are sexy? JEREMIAH: (laughs and puts his hand on Chase's shoulder) "Not today." Scene: Jeremiah and Chase walk into the room and take a seat with the other judge, Shelly. MISS MARY LOU: (Miss Mary Lou walks in) "Ok judges, can I leave it to you to choose the first round of performers? Thirty people can be chosen to go through to the final round. Each person will perform a two minute monologue that is original, moving and daring. I've got classes to teach so make me proud of who you decide upon. I will be back later today to see your progress." (walks out of theatre) SHELLY: (looks at Jeremiah and Chase). "Hi, I am Shelly." CHASE: "I'm CHase. This is Jeremiah." SHELLY AND CHASE: (smile at each other) JEREMIAH: (looks awkard) "Let's begin." Scene: The curtains on the stage open. A tall, lanky guy who looks similar to Jeremiah walks up to the microphone. ACTOR ONE: "It was evening. I was laying in bed, when I thought of you, SHelly." (He looks up at Shelly) SHELLY: (rolls her eyes) ACTOR ONE: "Your soft curvy body, sweet fragnant scent, makes me ..." JEREMIAH: "Stop right there. I think we have heard enough." CHASE: "Have we?" JEREMIAH: (turns to Chase)
"Yes." ACTOR ONE: (walks off the stage) SHELLY: "He was my ex. Thank you for saving me ACTOR TWO: (walks on the stage) "It was you. I saw you at the train station. Then you vanished. I wondered where you could have gone. And then I heard the screams. I wondered how life had brought you to this point, where you felt it had to end. Why didn't you try to find a way out or escape to start again? I wonder who will miss you and how this will affect their lives. I wonder who you were and how your life was lived. Did you have a lover waiting for you back home? Did you have a dog that will go hungry tonight? If only you made plans of your future. Maybe all would be bright. SHELLY: (A tear escapes her eyes) ACTOR TWO: "That's when the cops pulled you out of the train, as they lifted your pants back up. Mooning the train folk is not cool. JEREMIAH, CHASE AND SHELLY: (All burst into laughter) (Shelly wipes tears away) JEREMIAH: "I think it's clear," (looks to other judges for confirmation) That you made it to round two. Well done." ACTOR TWO: (jumps into air with a shout of glee before running off to back stage) Scene: Actors Three, Four and Five are shooed off the stage. ACTOR SIX: (walks on stage) "I was walking down the street, when I saw this young lad. I said, hey man, whatcha doing? He said. I want to impress this girl at school, so I am going to show her some magic. I patted him on the shoulders and said give her some flowers instead. I saw the young lad the next day in the street, practicing his magic act. How did the the flowesrs go? I asked him. Great. He replied. What's with the magic? I want to impress this girl at school. A different girl? Yes. What did the girl say once she got your flowers? She said thanks. And? And I wanted a kiss. The boy said. What did you do? I leaned in and she said unless I can pull a rabbit out of a hat, she won't kiss me." JEREMIAH, CHASE AND SHELLY: (laugh) SHELLY: "Great job, you are into the round two." ACTOR SIX: (walks off the stage)
SHELLY: "What if they are all good?" CHASE: (shrugs his shoulders) Scene: After six tiresome hours of non-stop auditions. The judges look a mess. Chase is yelling next as soon as some actors speak. They have to audition everyone and they have only sought out ten for the second round. JEREMIAH: "It seems the students here have alot of issues going on. Whatever happened to just having fun?" MISS MARY LOU: (walks into theatre) "Like you did Jeremiah? I remember in your first semseter in theatre you can in and wrote a play about the negative effects of working in the real world." (corners of her eyes teak into a smile) CHASE: "Really, how did it end?"
SICKNESS AND HAPPINESS IS POSSIBLE
By John Mulroy (Sickness and happiness is possible.) Even that little phrase which I have named this little pamphlet after is to our evolved comprehension so unbelievable that the words of wisdom (don’t be stupid) comes to mind.
Words of wisdom which I clearly disapprove of. Now I’m not saying that everyone who wishes to be happy must go out and find themselves a virus that would be stupid. What I am saying is that since life has dealt you down this card to play with, there are no earthly reasons in the universal play book stating you can’t use that ace as an Eleven just as easy as the Ace of the deck can be One. It’s all a matter of simple focus and how to look at it, with eyes wide open or tightly closed. If you want despair, loneliness, self-pity and a chip on your shoulder that Hercules himself couldn’t walk around with. Normally life will make it rain on your street and there will be no sunshine. Then the rain will leave and the sun will shine again, normally. But sometimes you can have the sun and rain shining and poring together like cats and dogs opposite each other on the same street. It is a rare thing when this happens. But it does happen. Consider this to be the street that you have been caught red handed on. What should you do? Which side do you walk on now? Because you cannot walk in the middle of the road anymore and by the way it’s a one way street and you’re coming from a cul-de-sac so there is no way back. You are being forced to make a choice in your life that was not in your reality before, your test results came back positive.
(Why Me?) If you’re reading these words you are more than likely standing on that street in the rain asking that question. (Or if not yet, life will get around to you as soon as it see’s you are not ready for it.) Probably looking across the road at the sunshine, thinking, why me, what did I do wrong? Did I run with the wrong crowd, was I unlucky, careless, not give a dame or all of the above? Where can I point my finger? Now think if you could put your finger on the reason why your life in your view has fallen apart what difference would it really make to you or your situation right now? If you have the answer, NONE, then you are already thinking about crossing over the street to where the sunshine is there waiting for you. If you have an answer that is not of the latter, maybe you like feeling sorry for yourself, and maybe you’re comfortable with hurt, because it’s all you have ever known so it has become familiar or maybe you’re just a duck that likes to quack on in the rain sometimes. However you want to look at it, None is the infinite answer and the sooner you get your mind around that equation the sooner you can start working on the next one. I AM SICK BUT I WANT TO BE HAPPY. It’s a hell of a big statement for such a small sentence don’t you think. As Sting’s song goes and put into the context of speaking to yourself; Why
Should I cry For You? What does it mean to be sick and be happy? What is happiness to you in the first place Sick or not? Were you happy before your positive test result came in? Does anyone really know? I’m sure we have all heard the text book versions. Life is hard, messy and full of unexpected pain that somehow twists and squirms and turns round and around until it comes out ok and happy in the end. Happiness is not a right but is taken for granted it is, until it’s too late to do anything about it when we actually find that little out the hard way. In my considerable humble opinion to be happy in life, Sick or no Sick you need three things: 1.) Love of life. 2.) Passion. 3.) Enough money. In that order. Two of those things you get from within and the third from without. Not surprisingly and I suspect with some reservation from your heart most eyes have moved to the third condition first and with aplomb, I say you could not be more wrong. If you can siphon the first two out from your heart the third will follow quite naturally. Love of life has to be the most important of the three. What does love of life mean? Simply, wanting to get up in the morning. What does passion mean? Simply, when your thinking excites you. What does money mean? Simply, nothing and everything. It’s like a tool. If you need a screwdriver and all you have is a fork what good is that to you. There is one other straight forward way to be happy and it can be summed up in one easy sentence, but it’s hard to understand and put into practice. However much of a paradox it might be, you are entitled to read what it is. And it is simply. You can’t keep what you have, until you give it away. It’s hard to understand because everyone’s understanding of it is different. When you lose everything you will find everything else. Remember everything will be Ok it will all come out in the wash.
For more than 13 years I danced ballet, jazz, contemporary and even performed in hip hop and tap. Due to various reasons of moving house and thus away from my dance school as well as other points such as the rumours of the strict dance regime on one’s body in the professional arena and a low income, I decided it was time to give up dance. But over the years, dance has seemed to continue to find me, wherever I am and trance me back in. For four years I owned an online Dance Business called Dance Phenomenon. It was a site that was aimed to boost confidence in dancers through articles and interviews with professional dancers. I also sold online dance classes I created for people to learn to dance in their own room. During this time, I also discovered my real passion in life, writing. I realised Dance Phenomenon was created because I used to dream of being a dancer and realised it was time to move on. Two years later, I feel dance is trying to claim me back. A dance class at the gym was being held in the city and I thought hey, why not give it a go? Well it sure was interesting and fun and I found myself stripping my daily worries through each
move I made. Then as luck would have it I bought tickets to Cinderella produced by the Queensland Ballet. I used to visit the ballet yearly with my mother and hadn’t seen one in years. I wondered if it would still have the same effect on me. And it did and more…
The Queensland Ballet performs ‘Cinderella’ A review by Melanie Toye The Queensland Ballet choreographed a dance romance like no other. Cinderella a sweet, soft and comical performance was performed superbly by the ever talented performers. As soon as the Queensland Symphony Orchestra began, the classical music created a magical and delightful enchantment over the show. The curtains opened and the acts began. Cinderella and the Prince stole the show, with Cinderella’s beautiful soft movements and the Prince’s excellent strong high jumps and pirouettes, and then the combined lifts really spilled out romance onto the dance floor. The stage setting and props (by US Designer Tom Boyd and Lighting Designer David Walters) created magic, with autumn leaves and fake snowflakes falling onto the stage floor. I wondered how the dancers looked so confident in dancing through the falling soft props, but no fear braved their faces as they danced on their toes elegantly through the exquisite setting. Other props, such as the pumpkin horse and carriage created an awe of wow from the audience. And the costume pieces designed by New Zealand Costume Designer Tracy Grant Lord were delicate, glittery and attractive. The ugly step sisters were surely man looking as the chest hair protruded out from the long pink dresses that had the audience roaring with laughter. The two male performers, Yu Hui and Vito Bernasconi stepped up to the challenge and performed the best ugly step sisters I have ever seen. And the old crooked woman who turns into a beautiful Fairy Godmother (Lisa Edwards) was such a delight with her graceful and delicate movements. Magic formed and sweetness eluded where the fairies of Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter performed enchanting and incredibly intricate and unique solo's. The skilful and playful acts had everyone clapping at the uniqueness and prettiness of it all. All fairies were beautiful and elegant with their solo's, in particular the Summer fairy (Vanessa Morelli) pirouettes around the stage and the Winter fairy (Sarah Thompson) did strong accent's that it made me wonder, if these performers were chosen for the particular diverse solo's due to their specific talents. It was later noted while reading the program, that the performers do get a chance to perform and dance in different roles across the nights of the event, which just shows how talented these performers truly are. After the first intermission I was surprised at the amount of male dancers that were cast yet wondered why the jumps and turns that I love to see the men perform, were not a major scene. Especially as I knew the Artistic Director was the ever famous, Li Cunxin, who wrote Mao's Last Dancer and was a classical star performer around the world, would surely add in some showstoppers. So I was pleased to see the high jumps, with a middle split in the air and various turns and advantageous jumps in the second act that I could not help but smile. The chorus line is always a favourite too, with their beautiful dresses which swayed with the lifts and turns and their soft drops caught by the handsome men. I too found myself swaying ever so slightly as I was tranced into their magic. And to watch the exquisite (Clare Morehen) dance as Cinderella perform a triumphant solo as did the Prince (Huang Junshuang).
Photo by David Kelly The Queensland Ballet had really transformed the story into a unique masterpiece that I am sure as I looked around the audience; all ages from young children to young adults, to the wise, all had enjoyed the spectacular show. I even spotted Li Cunxin in the audience, what a treat. It is really important that we support our talented and incredible artists who spend hours daily working on creating and performing masterpiece's that provide us a piece of their magic. When you visit Australia, be sure to watch a Queensland Ballet performance during your time here. All artists whether painters, writers, dancers, musicians and all who are creative, need our support. Artists will spend so much time perfecting their talents and skills to give you a piece of their inner magic. As a registered Australian charity, the Queensland Ballet relies on support from many individuals, companies and trusts to support our Artistic Director, as well as our key initiatives in education, wellness and the community. Supporters giving over $100 are recognised on the Queensland Ballet’s website, on nightly programs for main stage performances, in the Queensland Ballet Annual Report and may have the opportunity to attend Supporter Events during the year. Trusts and foundations play a crucial role in the work of Queensland Ballet; they help to innovate with new programs and initiatives, to improve the quality of our artistry, and to engage with new audiences and the wider community. Join the Queensland Ballet Friends and have the opportunities to get to know the Artistic Director, dancers and Company staff personally, and meet others who share a love of dance at various social and fundraising events throughout the year. The Friends’ fundraising efforts enable the Company to undertake projects and acquire assets that would not otherwise be possible. Visit the Queensland Ballet to send your support and find out what upcoming shows are a must see. http://www.queenslandballet.com.au/support/
Falling in love: In the mindset of Miranda By Melanie Toye By the end of the night, Miranda had a full stomach, sore cheeks and a phone number from the handsome waiter. She was feeling so elated she didn’t want the evening to end. Miranda arrived home and decided to call Grant. “Hello.” A strong deep voice answered. “Hello Grant.” Miranda said, suddenly feeling embarrassed; he probably gave her his number as a joke. Sally had told her recently that when a person dials the number provided it is transferred to a dumping service. She silently prays that this was not the case in her instance. “My name is Miranda,” she continued, “I met you a few hours ago at the coffee shop in Paddington.” “Miranda is that your name, your name is very beautiful.” He said with his thick French accent. “I am delighted you have called me so efficiently. Would you like to meet me for a drink?” He asked. “Yes that would be lovely.” Miranda said trying not to sound too desperate. “I finish work in an hour.” “Perfect, why don’t you pop round my place?” Miranda asked and without further thought provided Grant with her home address. Miranda quickly dialled Grace’s number relaying what was about to take place. “Miranda, don’t you know the rules? You’re not supposed to call him after two hours of seeing him. You have to wait at least two days.” She said. “Oh no, what have I done? He’s coming to my place, he might think I want well you know, to do the dirty deed. What should I do? Cancel?” Grace sighed, “No I have a better plan. Why don’t you meet him outside your apartment and go out for a drink. That way it was just a meeting point. No extra intentions involved.” Grace said proud of her suggestion. “Grace you are a life saver, what would I do with you?” Miranda said in all seriousness. “I don’t know, probably live a dull and boring life.” Grace giggled. Miranda joined in the laughter knowing full well how true her statement was. After Grant’s work shift ended they travelled to a stylish bar. Grant did not even mention going inside Miranda’s home. Not only was he incredibly handsome but also very smart. After a few glasses of wine and glasses of water in between, Miranda discovered that Grant had moved over from France a year ago. His English was superb. After a great night they arrived home and Grant promised he would call Miranda soon. He brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her gently on the cheek. “Farewell Miranda.” Miranda closed her apartment door as a broad smile covered her face. Yes he didn’t kiss her on the lips but his touch was amazing. Miranda picked up the phone to call Grace and noticing the time, hung up. It was too late to be calling anyone. Yet she was too excited to go to bed. Miranda decided to turn on the TV and jump on the couch to get comfy. Reminiscing over and over the moment he swept his tender lips across her cheek. Click to buy from Smashwords Click to buy from Amazon Click to buy from Barnes and Noble
The Price of Revenge© by Lisa Day
Three columns of thick black smoke drifted up toward the heavens. The Blue Heron was on fire. All to soon the burning schooner would be covered and never seen again. Covered by the torrent churning saltwater that at this moment rushed to sink her, causing her darkened bow to edge lower and lower beneath the sea’s surface. The man sitting on the out-of-place throne did not care if the Blue Heron went below today or tomorrow. He already had the cargo he pursued and then some. The monarch’s chair he sat in gave an air of authority he felt he was entitled too. No one in his crew would even consider disagreeing with him. Each of his evil cohorts valued if nothing else at least their own lives. “A good day’s turn, a good day’s turn,” said the man occupying the throne. “Indeed Captain. Four barrels of rum, two of whiskey. Twenty rolls of linens, three barrels coffee. I’ll have the complete list presented by nightfall. The two chests and the woman are safely tucked away in your quarters, sir.” “Very good,” he answered back as he stood stretching his legs. The pain ran down his leg reminding him he did not emerge uninjured from the battle. A mischievous smile crossed his face. Once the idea presented itself he turned and headed below to his quarters. BANG. He slammed the door almost off its leather hinges for effect. He got it, the frightened young woman bolted from where she had perch behind his desk. “So, your Christine the step daughter of the noble governor Thomas Mayford”
He waved his hand for her to present herself to him. Even so far as to bow slightly. His benevolent act mistakenly caused her to believe he was a civilized man and stepped from around the desk. The desk that was her only buffer. “I am Christine Brighten as you rightly assumed.” She curtsied. Just as she went to rise she understood her how naive she had been. His body slammed against her. The wind knocked from her lungs on impact. Both hands now held snug behind her back. Her bosoms had no choice, but to mash themselves into his hard masculine chest. “Easy my pet. These things are better enjoyed slowly, so one can savor the delights to follow.” Squirming to free herself she begged, “Please, release me. Leave me unharmed and there will be a ransom paid for my safe return.” “You think so. Are you really that sure?” Moving both of her hands into just one of his. He took his free hand and forced her head back taking control of her lips. Strong demanding lips tortured her soft mouth. There was no way she had the strength to stop him from him having his way with her. When he removed his mouth from hers he saw her lips were dark pink and swollen from the way he roughly kissed her. He smiled. Then he laughed. Sweeping her up he tossed her on top of the bed. “Stay there,” he barked at her. Trembling she obliged him his request. She knew he locked the door after he slammed it. “My step-father will pay you, I promise.” He began to laugh again. He went to the door and next to it pulled on a rope. She imagined it was a bell of some type. She knew she was correct when someone knocked on the door. He moved to it and unlocked the door. Once open she could see a young lad. He looked about thirteen or fourteen years old. “Sam my boy, tell cook to prepare a meal for two and you’ll...” Turning to his guest on the bed again smiling, “serve us here.” The boy was gone and once again they were alone. “Let’s see where were we...Oh, yes, your ransom. Mmmm, that does create a problem.” “Problem.” “Yes, problem you see I have already been paid.” “Been paid?” “It seems your sister Carolee’s ..” She cut him off in mid-sentence correcting him, “You mean my STEP-sister.” Not missing a beat he continued, “Has gotten herself a very stupid finance. While with friends and very much into his cups Simon bragged about how once married he intended to see to it he enjoyed Carolee’s young sister, sorry step-sister. It seemed you have already accepted some of his advances.” “Why that’s a lie. I never,” she retorted “Whether he lied or not, that will be clear enough later you can sure of it. For the moment consider yourself my guest and rest. I have a crew to see to. I will return for dinner.” As soon as the lock clinked telling her he relocked the door she was on her way to try the door anyway. Mumbling as she confirmed that he indeed locked it “Why that slime piece of dog dung. I’ll ring his neck if I”...she said aloud. Stopping when it finally dawned of her. Did everybody she thought cared about believed the lies. Did her step-father Thomas and or Carolee really pay someone to abduct her? She was here, wasn’t she. She collapsed when her knees gave way dropping her to the floor. Sobs of despair racked through her as the betrayal took hold of her.
On deck the captain presented the large chest to the men to share. He explained the smaller one was his alone as a payment for a deed he’d been hired to do. The rest of the bounty would be shared or sold then divvied out equally. Seeking out the ship’s doctor he asked for a report. “Captain John, three men, five injured. Of the five only two will need bed rest. I see you’re limping a little. Shall I?” he said as he went to examine the captain’s leg. He slapped his hand away. “No Doc. I have decided to seek someone who’s touch will be softer than yours.” Charter 2 He did not need to slam the door as he entered this time. Smiling he caught sight of the rush of blue material from her skirt as she ran and leaped for the bed. Walking toward a large chest in the corner he bent over lifting up the heavy lid. Using both hands he pulled out a small wooden box. The chair behind the desk scrapped along the wooden planks of the floor when he dragged it from its place into the center of the room. With a loud hiss he dropped into the chair. “Come here. I need your services. See to my wound.” The sound of his pants tearing drew her eyes to his leg. Too terrified to notice earlier she saw the blood and the angry-looking wound. She squeaked, “Oh,” in alarm and rushed to his side. Without another thought she helped remove the fabric exposing the area completely. He opened the chest on his lap. She saw it held medical supplies. “Take whatever you deem necessary.” On first inspection of the wound Christine discovered it was not as serious as first thought. It was not deep and the cut seemed clean. “It seemed that all you need to do is keep the wound clean, and it should heal without complications.” Taking what she needed from the box she cleaned and wrapped the wound that was halfway up his thigh. “You don’t seem so frightened of me now.” “It is of no matter I would have done no less for a rabid dog in the gutter.” His bellows of laughter filled the room. “Be careful little one rabid dogs can bite.” A rough hand gently took her chin lifting it up to meet his eyes and he said. “I find I have no wished to bite you. Well, not bite you in the way you fear. I...” What ever he intended to say was now interrupted by the pounding on the door. “Come in,” he yelled way too loud, proving he didn’t appreciate the bad timing. Sam entered with a dinner tray balanced on his out stretched arms. “Dinner, Captain for you and the lady.” “Place it on the desk and go.” Whatever it was, it smelled delicious to a hungry young woman. A fact not missed by him. “I propose a truce. I am tired, and you are in fact hungry. Come join me.” Hunger won out over pride, and she moved toward the desk. He handed her a plate. “Take your fill,” Chuckling he added, “You’ll need your strength later.”
Refusing to look at him. The green plate shook in her hand, but she reached for the sliced meat. Adding a serving of the boiled vegetables and two slices of bread. Quickly retreating away from him to sit on the edge of the bed, she began eating. After taking he own choice of the fare. He returned to the chair behind the desk and sat. Both ate in silence. He finished first. “I will have you beneath me before this night is over. You do realize that don’t you?” “So the rabid dog returns. I suppose I have no say in the matter.” “None.” “I won’t come easy.” “Oh, I think you will when you hear me out.” She said aloud, “I doubt it.” The thoughts she had were unspeakable. “Why don’t you help yourself to the small chest next to the door. Then we’ll talk.” Her curiosity now perked she placed the plate of unfinished food on the desk and went to the chest. Kneeling she tried to raise the lid. “Here, you’ll need this,” He tossed the key at her. She immediately responded and caught it in her right hand. Turning her attention back to the chest she pushed the brass key into the lock and turned the key watching the box open with a click. Three minutes later her sobs were to the only sounds in the room. In her hands where the letters confirming his words earlier of the duplicity of not only her step-sister but step-father as well. When she finally was spent she recovered some of her composer. “So now you’ll force yourself on me and toss me into the sea is that your plan,” she said. He was laughing again. “It was. Of course, but that’s before I saw the item I was to depose of. Now, I have other ideas.” “Such as?” “One is to chain you to that bed and do as I wish to you,” His eyes openly raking her from head to toe. “Until I tire of you.” Pushing his empty plate away from him he stood. Thinking he was about to carry out his words against her person she raised her hand to defend herself. About three feet from her he stopped. “It’s not me should be fighting.” “No? You wish to harm me in the most foul way sir.” “Do I now. I seek only what men all through the eons sought. Tonight I wish taste of your womanly secrets, you will still be alive in the morning. There would be no more mornings had I carried their intent for you. You would already be leagues beneath the ocean’s surface by now. Besides do you not wish for justice or revenge?” “I don’t have the means or way to serve vengeance on those three.” “Ah, so it has crossed your mind.” She snickered, ”Yes, of course and I didn’t leave you out of the equation either.” “Touché.” He stepped closer. This time she did not cower. He began to stroke her upper arm. “My sweet Christine, I have the means and the way. Sir Thomas, has seven more ships, three frigates and five schooners. And for the oaf Simon well his island coffee and cotton will never see a foreign market again. If that is your wish.”
“My wish is that...” She stopped. She knew then he led her in a very dangerous game. Dangerous not only for her this day, but for both in the future if she took his offer up. She finished, “the price.” “You already know the price.” Timid eyes looked him over from his boots to his tousled brown hair. Her eyes didn’t linger on the part near his wound that now bulged out foretelling her future this eve. He watched her eyes when they halted their exploration and came to rest on his face. He held his breath more for her sake than his own. “He lied you know. I have never...” He didn’t need or want her to finish. “I will be gentle, so gentle.” For a second time he swept her up into his arms, and in three steps he carried to the waiting bed. Copyright © 2010 by Lisa Day author All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from the author.
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7 Habits of Highly Effective People WOMEN A 4-part series By Jennifer Galletti
Habit Five: Seek First to Understand, Then to be Understood Active listening is a skill that many people simply do not have. We tend to listen with the intention of responding in some way. We like to build mutually beneficial relationships and communicate accordingly: “I will do this if you do that.� Habit Five kind of harmonizes all of the Habits discussed here today. In order to effectively integrate these seven habits into our daily lives, we must learn to listen. Pay attention to not only what the speaker hopes to communicate to you, but also why they want you to know. Truly think about what is being said and consider their motives. Of course, conversation is a two-way street. The intention here is to realize that not every conversation needs to be about you, what you think, how you feel, how you can contribute, and so on. Sometimes, we just need to listen. I am not suggesting that we be seen and not heard, those days are long gone. We are problem solvers by nature and often seek to provide a solution and move on. I am suggesting that we should take the time truly understand, and then seek to be understood. I have found that taking this pause to genuinely consider what is being said has helped my relationship, the way I respond to my children, my clients, and my friends.
Habit Six: Synergize SYNERGIZE! This is my fave word in the English language. Not only is it fun to say, but it is a great thing to do, as often as possible. Synergizing is all about people. Work with a wide variety of people in all aspects of your life. Brainstorming with people from different backgrounds and cultures gives you many different perspectives to consider. If you are marketing a new product, ask the guy in the mailroom, the secretary, and your babysitter what they think of the product. Join a discussion forum. There is a discussion happening somewhere right now on any topic you can possibly imagine: parenting, recipes, health and wellness, and of course, careers. You will be surprised by the ideas you can come up with just by talking to people you generally overlook. Diversify your circle. Meet new people and build genuine connections with them. You can have the All-Star LinkedIn profile with 500+ connections, but what good is that if you do not use those connections? Network! View the previous editions to read habits 1 to 4. Follow the next few issues of Imagine This to read all the 7 Highly Effective Habits.
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My Imagination Space Imagine everyone celebrating the New Year every day. Friend and family gatherings would occur as well as late nights to see the midnight tick to the new day. And the countdown would leave people to risk more and put their heart on the line for the ultimate kiss as the clock strikes. If you considered every day as a new day, how would you celebrate it? Take a day off Follow Melanie Toye’s inspirational blog at: http://melanietoye.wordpress.com/ It’s amazing how it can hard to stay positive in such a negative, pulling down environment. The news and media help spread the bad news. And if it’s not bad enough to hear the horrid stories that evolve from your own nation. We are also bombarded with the negative life-destroying news from around the world. The internet and TV have helped spread the world-wide news. But do we need to hear it? If as a country, we all decided to no longer hear about the wars and murderous acts happening around the world. Would we be nicer to those we love and even to strangers? Obvious questions would be, if we disconnected from other countries bad news, how would we protect ourselves if a war broke out and how would we offer to help if we didn’t know about it? But how much of the world’s problems do we take on our shoulders each day? How are we supposed to move on and focus on a new day when we wake up to hear about another tragic event has occurred over night? If you took a day to not read about, talk about or watch the news. Would you feel happier? I dare you to try it for just one day. And at the end of the day, ask yourself how you feel.
The clashing elements shroud me like death's clammy torn gown.. Feelings gone where? dimmed by unfair events, seems to me anyway.. Cancer stole her breasts away, at 42.. invading those nurturing vessels, which in their innocence, fed three lovely girls. Is that to be their fate too..? I am growing weary of this grey cloak and my sight is as clouded as nights blackest hills. Reaching deep within, I search for my shriveling heart, pumping feverishly, hoping to save it, like the surgeon striving to restore a mangled hand by sewing it into the cavern of his patient's thoracic haven!! Begone ye harbingers of soul numbing seasons! Oh how I long to be free of weighted chains, bound about my soul by heavy concerns........
Becky Goddard Rizek, Feb 25th, 2011
Live a life for when one day you look back on it and smile. - Melanie Toye