Natolie Webb

Jeremiah

Source: (Picture of a woman in a red dress walking in water)

My Darling Jeremiah,

Do you remember the first time I brushed against you, at the take out window at The Fisherman’s Cove in Old Orchard Beach? A sudden downpour had taken the summer tourists by surprise, forcing all of us into a tight crowd underneath the overhang. I stood close to you and was suddenly overwhelmed by a scent memory of someone I loved, but lost. For a moment… one inexplicable moment, he was there, embracing me in the soft London rain… Until… the world shifted back into focus and it was you, tricking my nostrils, in what must have been fate. My once dead heart swelled with love beyond measure.

I wonder if you can still feel my breath on your neck, as I can still smell your scent, mingled with the afternoon rain and freshly cooked fish and chips. We huddled close together, you and I… while your wife held your daughter tightly to her chest, safe from the rain. When you moved away from me to help shield them from the torrent, I felt a sharp pang of longing, turned quickly to jealousy. It took a moment to gather myself. You weren’t him. You weren’t mine. It ought to have ended there… it would have ended there… if we hadn’t seen each other again.

But we did, didn’t we, Darling? There you were all by yourself, the following evening on my favorite beach. You sat in your chair, staring at the sea, somehow looking at once ephemeral and sexy. I was out for a stroll and upon seeing you, felt suddenly daring, in my red sundress. I know you recall what happened next. You couldn’t take your eyes from me while I allowed the wind to take my skirt wherever it would. I played coy, but I knew you knew it was no accident. It wouldn’t be proper to say what it did to me in certain unmentionable places, Darling, but we both knew where this type of flirtation would lead. Nothing could keep us apart afterward.

Our love, our ongoing tryst, was a whirlwind of passion… the stolen glances, the lustful moments when no one else was around. Midnights on the beach… Do you remember the first time I saw you naked? You were so casual and cool, as if you didn’t feel my watchful eyes upon you as you plunged into the sea. You have long enjoyed your little joke, haven’t you, Darling? But I was never fooled. Our longing is palpable like lightening in the night sky, the crisp scent of an approaching storm, the magic of summer night…

Finally our time has come, My Love. Meet me Sunday night at our beach and we can finally run away together. I will be wearing my sexiest red sundress as an homage. I wait with ragged breath for your tender embrace.

Passionately Yours,

Mary

Jeremiah,

I waited for you, throughout the long night on the beach. I’ve been terribly worried, but I guess waiting and worrying is nothing new for me. I wonder if you are aware, how it feels to spend many long years as the “other woman”?

I can’t lie, Jeremiah, It feels awful, loving you from afar, being on the edge of you life, never your first priority or concern… It has been hard, and I am tired of being so small and unimportant. I thought you would finally come to me and end this misery of hiding but, here I still am, alone.

I have tried to understand your choices and you can’t deny I have respected them and stood by you. I know how strongly you felt about your daughter having a home with both her parents and I cannot say she hasn’t flourished beautifully. I mean it, Jeremiah. I’ve always admired and appreciated your parenting. It felt almost as if I could be a part of her life through you. As you know, I have a great longing for the daughter I could not carry.

I want to tell you a secret and I hope you won’t be angry but… I attended her graduation ceremony. I hid in the back, bursting with pride for both of you. Please don’t be upset! I have watched from afar with so much love and couldn’t bring myself to miss her big day. I hope you know what it has meant to me to see her grow and I can barely wait for her to know me, as I have known her.

This was suppose to be our time… I can’t believe you didn’t come! You have to have been deterred somehow. Oh, Love! I’m so sorry to have doubted. I should never doubt you… I know the strength of our passion. I will wait for you here on Drake’s Island for as long as it takes. Please come tonight… or tomorrow. I need to know you are ok. Don’t make me wait too long… I am terrified to lose you. Waiting Lovingly,

Mary

Dearest Jeremiah,

I want you to know, I kept the promise I made in my last letter. I waited on our beach, every single night, as planned. It was to be so romantic, meeting in the place where we first locked eyes. But it wasn’t to be… I’m so sorry, Darling, this next part will be difficult to hear, I hope you are sitting down…

I was drugged and abducted by two men. I don’t think they assaulted me sexually, but they have taken me to some sort of asylum. There are people here… they pretend to be doctors and say they are helping me but I don’t believe them. They are sticking to such a ridiculous story! Can you imagine trying to convince me our relationship was never real and I made it all up? After all we’ve been through?
Don’t worry, Darling, I am far too smart for this sort of ploy. I knew we would never be entirely rid of your wife but I had no idea she could go to such lengths. Now I know… I finally understand what happened to you in London. I know she kidnapped and brainwashed you. I know she stole our daughter from my womb. I was so stupid to believe the “doctors” in the “asylum” in London. She is a mastermind, Darling, and we have lost each other once again but I promise it is temporary.

Darling, I don’t know what she has done to you and our Sophie but I will do whatever it takes to make you right again. She couldn’t keep us apart last time and neither will she succeed this time. I will escape, very soon and the three of us can start anew. I will never let you go.

Forever Yours,

Mary

Currently Reading

Source: (picture of a book with pages folded to look like a heart)

Micheal clutched the package nervously to his chest as he entered her hospital room. She didn’t notice him at first. Her head was turned toward the window, while the nurse cleaned and redressed her head wound. His heart skipped as it always did when he saw the damage the accident had caused. He had come disconcertingly close to losing her forever.

“M-M-Micheal, you-you are hee-re.” Her speech was halting but her eyes shone with a fiercity only grace could cultivate.

He held up the package, his confidence suddenly returned, as if downloaded from her gaze, “I’ve brought you something…”

“Wh-what is it?”

“Well, I heard you wanted to try you hand at reading again so…” he pulled the book out of the bag and held it up, “it’s one of my favorites.”

“Wa-where’s WaWalddo? Ittt’sss n-not r-readdinng.”

“I know it’s not technically reading but the therapists agreed it would be good for your cognitive development and I thought you might enjoy the tactile feel of turning pages again.” her face lit up in her newly found lopsided smile which never failed to melt his heart, “Do you like it?”

“I-itt’s a st-sta-start.”

Published for Instagram’s Romance Writer Challenge June 2019, Day 24 “Currently Reading”

Love Language in Translation

Source: (picture of a McDonald’s restaurant at twilight)

She craved his loving attention: afternoon strolls on the bike path, bearing their souls together through a long night of talking or maybe just lazy afternoons watching movies…

But he couldn’t stay still and so when he was done running around, long after she had eaten and gotten ready for bed, he called to ask her if she’d like some McDonald’s…

And she felt so loved. ❤

Originally published for Instagram’s Romance Writer Challenge June 2019, Day 23 “Love Languages”

Cat Food

Source: (Picture of a black cat sitting at a kitchen table)

August was a ridiculous month to have a baby, she thought freshening the cat’s water dish as it wound appreciatively through her ankles, especially when you were too stubborn to own an air conditioner. It was barely 10am and already her hair was matted and frizzed and her body covered in a light sheen of sweat. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept or bothered putting clothes on. With the baby ready to come any time she was merely trying to get as comfortable as possible at any given moment. “Maybe today,” she thought wistfully.

“You think it’s today?” her husband entered the room and busied himself in the fridge. She hadn’t even realized she had spoken out loud. “I sure hope you’re right. This heat has made it an ordeal. Sit and I’ll make you a healthy breakfast.”

She sat while he bustled around the kitchen, fetching her fruit and yogurt, adding a little whipped cream on the side to please her. “I’ll make you a pancake if you’ll eat it.”

“A waffle, you mean?”

“Right. A waffle. No problem.” He cooked and they ate together in comfortable silence. She was not given to much discussion these days and she appreciated his ability to roll with it.

He started gathering the dishes, talking over his shoulder, “Let me get the air conditioner today, Babe. We’ll keep it in the bedroom only… So you can sleep…”

She shook her head, “I can’t… I… I’m just going to take a cool bath.” she stood from the chair, feeling a sudden wetness between her legs. “What the…” she turned to see a glob of blood tinged mucus on the chair behind her. “Fuck. I think I lost my mucus plug.”

“Ok. That’s supposed to happen. You can take your bath. I’ll clean it up.”

“Um. You better hurry. The cat just started eating it.”

Originally published for Instagram’s Cringeworthy Writing Challenge July 2019 Day 3 “mucus”

Party Time

She swiped on a thin layer of lipstick and looked at herself in the mirror. The makeup couldn’t hide the thin, paleness of her skin or the tiredness in her eyes but it would have to do. She was awfully tired already and the party had yet to start. Perhaps a small nap before everyone arrived?

“Nurse!”

“Yes, Betty?”

“Oh there you are, Thea Dear. Could you help me into bed? I would like to rest before everyone arrives.”

“Of course! You have plenty of time and I’ll help you touch up your makeup when you get up because you look beautiful! Take my arm. I’ll help you up,” They shuffled slowly to the bed together.

“Don’t let me oversleep please, Dear. They will all be waiting. You don’t turn 100 every day,” she sat I the edge of the bed as Thea helped her maneuver her body to a supine position.

“I promise. I won’t. It’s a big day today. Even the mayor is coming!”

“Yes. The mayor,” Betty murmured sleepily as Thea gently tucked the covers around her. She was the kindest and gentlest of the nurses and Betty was glad she was there on her special day.

…

When she next awoke something was unmistakably wrong. It seemed all the guests were already there. Betty sprang out of bed without thinking and rushed out to join the party. Why hadn’t Thea awoken her?

“Tommy!” She greeted her son with outstretched arms, “I’m so sorry I overslept,” but he didn’t reply or accept her embrace. “Are you angry, Darling? I am 100 years old, you know, I’m allowed to oversleep.”

Still, he said nothing. She turned to her daughter Joanna, “Jojo, do you have a hug for your mother?”

Joanna turned away from her mother to speak to Tommy, “We can’t just sit here all day,” She touched his arm gently, “we’ll need to make some decisions.”

“I know. I’ll go talk to them,” but he didn’t actually move. He continued to sit there, starting off into space and ignoring his mother.

“Jojo, what’s wrong with Tommy?”

“C’mon, Tommy. I’ll be right with you. Let’s go see her.” Joanna stood taking his hand and pulling him up.

“Wait. Jojo, Tommy… Wait! Why aren’t you speaking to me?” Betty followed them down the hall to her room.

Thea joined them from the nurses station as they passed. “She was so excited for her party today. She was dressed and ready by 8am and had tired herself out. She asked for a nap but made me promise not to let her oversleep. When I went in to wake her she was already gone. I’m so sorry. She was a wonderful woman. We all loved her very much.”

Betty, listening, felt the world tilt on its axis, “Thea… What? Am I…? What about my party? I wanted to see my whole family.”

They paused silently at the doorway to her room for a moment, taking a breath to prepare themselves. When they crossed the threshold Betty could see herself, her body, the shell which had contained her for all of 100 years, lying motionless in the bed. It was a strange sensation to stare at her unmoving body from outside as if she hadn’t recently been tethered to it but it suddenly made sense…

She had leapt out of bed and ran to greet her children. Why hadn’t she realized that was odd? And had she really thought they would be angry she had been late? They weren’t talking to her because they couldn’t see her!

“Oh my God, I’m dead. Some party this turned out to be…”

Originally published for Instagram’s Romance Writer Challenge June 2019
Prompt day 11 “Party Time”

The Murder Awaits

The man startled at the sudden sound of the screeching crow outside his window. He had been sitting at his table, writing in longhand as his predecessors had done but tonight his writing was fevered. On his shelves, the predictions of his lineage were contained in centuries of journals. Some were proved, others had not yet come to pass. He was the keeper of their knowledge and recipient of their training.

Now he was the teacher, as was the tradition, he had taken three apprentices over the course of His lifetime. His newest apprentice, had long ago retired for the evening but he had kept working. He had many predictions still to articulate. Much unrest was on the horizon.

As the day began to lighten, the gravelly cry of a crow broke his reverie once again, now echoed by a chorus of voices. The murder had arrived. He shuddered slightly as he wrote, tethered to his fate, worrying over the apprentice. She was unlike him, dark and mysterious, but talented like he had never seen. He shuddered again. The murder of crows became a roaring chorus as the sun began to barely kiss the ground with its warming light.

It was past time. She had left him the fatal drink, his “medicine” mixed cleverly by her own hand. Oh yes, she was talented, indeed: talented and devious… He had known when he chose her what she would become. It was necessary, though it chilled his blood.

He wrapped his journals carefully and hid them where she would never find them, along with a handful of previous predictions he had kept secret. He hoped… prayed… the hints he had left in the village would lead the savior here when all seemed lost. The cawing crows, the murder, gathered closer to his windows… The old man looked the closest one in the eye, uncorked the bottle and drank in decisive gulps.

Originally published for Instagram’s Romance Writer Challenge June 2019, Day 25 “Foreshadowing”

Waiting

Source: (Picture of a hospital corridor)

The man paced the hospital corridor outside the waiting area, straining his eyes down the long hallway towards the door to the OR. Through the waiting room doorway, as he passed, he could see his wife sobbing quietly, a box of tissues on her lap. He took a few steps toward her but was distracted by the sound of the automatic doors on which his attention had been previously focused. His teeth clenched. He turned, apprehensively, to see a tech emerging with a cart full of supplies. Shoulders sagging, he returned to his pacing, only to catch sight of his wife, once again.

“I should go to her,” he thought but he remained frozen in place staring at her, still straining his ears for the inevitable sound. The ticking clock on the waiting room wall reverberated in his head, like gunshots on a battlefield, “A battlefield,” He thought, “My son, the soldier… I should have discouraged him…” As if hearing his thoughts, his wife’s sobs became louder and increased in intensity, “I should go to her…”

The door sounded again and the man turned expectantly. This time, finally, the doctor emerged. The man felt his heart stop beating. In fact, everything stood still… Everything except the doctor whose measured steps echoed as she made her way down the long corridor, her face an unreadable mask…

Originally published for Instagram’s Romance Writer Challenge June 2019, Day 21 “Show Don’t Tell”

The Worst Part

Source: (Picture of a computer keyboard)

She thought the worst part was the rape itself but then there was having to tell the doctors and nurses, then the police and the DA and… Pretty much fucking everybody. How many times did she have to describe her torn vagina or how it felt to be anally penetrated? How many people needed to know intimate details about her genitals?

Then she thought the worst part was the sentencing. Her life would never be the same. She could barely get out of bed or leave her house but apparently her life sentence meant nothing. What did her rapist get? A three month jail sentence and a year of probation… He was sorry, after all… Why should this ruin his life?

But no… Apparently the worst was yet to come. The pain was frustrating but the fear was worse. She sat carefully at her computer with tears streaming down her face and typed “How do I find love after herpes?”

Originally published for Instagram’s Romance Writer Challenge June 2019, Day 20 “Embarrassing Research”

Cover Art

Maria stood shocked in the aisle of the bookstore staring at the familiar picture on the cover. How could she possibly be seeing the face she had hoped to see for so long here, on the cover of this obscure book from the returns bin? It couldn’t be… but somehow was… unmistakably, Ebony.

She picked up the book, gently tracing the curves and lines of the familiar face, eliciting a tactile memory of soft, lovely skin. In the photograph Ebony’s soft smile held just the right mix of mischief and smoldering heat. It was a look which had always made her feel weak with desire and she felt the flush of it now, remembering their passion.

She missed her soft kisses, pined for her safe embrace, longed for the sweetness of her taste but Maria knew she could never go back. It was her fault. She had lost herself in a drug fueled nightmare and when she awoke she found she had also lost Ebony… both literally and figuratively. She knew she didn’t deserve the real thing but she could have this book.

“Oh, My Love,” She cooed softly, “if this is all I can have of you…” She took the book to the counter, paid and left cradling it gently beneath her coat.

She never read it but it rarely left her sight.

Originally published for Instagram’s Romance Writer Challenge June 2019
Prompt day 18 “Cover Art”

Writers Room

Source: (picture of a meeting in progress)

“Ok, writers! Today we’re flushing out character arcs for Season 3. Who’s got an idea for Zaina? Stacy. Go!”

“I think she should go really dark and we can trace her progression from light to dark to redemption.”

“Huh. Ok. Jim. Go!”

“Well, What if Zaina suffers a tragedy and gets really depressed and angry and does a bunch of evil stuff which alienates her from the team and then we can bring her back to the team through a series of redemptive acts.”

“Yes, Jim! Love it! Awesome idea! Stacy, you could learn a lot from Jim.”

Originally published for Instagram’s Romance Writer Challenge June 2019, Day 22, “Character Arc”