TOUCH HUNGRY: CHAPTER ONE – SHORT STORY

Frankia Krane collected the small shovel, potting soil and a terra cotta planter pot set from the garden supply shop. She took her time looking at all the indoor plants in the nursery. There was a vivid array of selections all about her and every time she passed a plant she wants that very one, then two steps ahead she would fall in love with another plant.

She finally came upon a plant that was very unique from the others. The leaves were similar to that of a snake plant or Dracaena Trifasciata. Snake plants usually have speckles of green and cream colors, naturally detailed in natural waves and ripples with long, tall blades for leaves that look as though they want to reach for the sky. The only difference is that the other plant bared leaves with a texture like that of a lizard or reptile, with splotches in spectrums of browns and greens, with varying tones commencing from the very tips of the leaf to where it connected to its roots, hidden in the rich dark brown soil. The tag on the pot read, Dracaena Valiveal, also known as the Sliver Leaf Plant.

As though the plant’s leaf was charmed, Frankia instantly became compelled to caress the Sliver plant’s leaves. The texture of the leaves instantly incited an emotional response from Frankia. While she stood there near the table, stroking the leaves of this two-foot tall plant, she did not care if anyone was watching her. Though not far in distance, the store clerk, an aged woman stood watching her as she smoothed and massaged the plant’s blossoms. A cooing sound escaped Frankia’s lips, and a calm and nurturing feeling washed over her mind and body. She was not consciously aware of herself in this moment. There was also a cautionary note below this plant’s name that read, “please do not touch.”

“Excuse me ma’am, can I help you” The older woman who was on staff at the garden shop offered.

“I was looking for a new houseplant…and I think I found the perfect one!” Frankia responded.

“Well,” said the employee, “This one is a new species, similar to the snake plant that its origins are from the Congo Basin.”

“Congo? You mean in Africa? Well…”

The clerk spoke abruptly. “Oh yes. They both have origins in that region of Africa but the Sliver Leaf grows specifically in Equatorial Guinea, deep in the rainforest…growing wild, but still very rare.”

Frankia only blinked, then her attention went back to the plant.

“Oh and please do not touch it. Just water occasionally and we have a specific liquid…serum that helps with its nourishment. If you would like to purchase it, I’m available to receive your payment.” The little old lady said then motioned towards the direction of the cash register. Frankia immediately picked up the plant pot and followed the little old lady to the front of the garden shop.

TO BE CONTINUED…😬

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER TWO

This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her in January 2021 (C)

Poem: Focus On The Good

While the bombs go off about me

While the time-lapse scurries by

And my clothing drenched with mud and tears

And I

Just wondering while wandering

What happened

How I’d forget the details too

All the motions and how they connect

Through the motions, through duress

The distant bombs still tell of danger

And in this greatly catastrophic time

I found a crevice to hide, bound

And binding

Licking wounds encrusted with dirt and tears and blood

In belief that if I do so

Then perhaps all of this is dream

Not fact

The rights to this poem goes to Juana M. Gumbs as of 01/03/2021

Blog – How I Plan on Saving Myself #2: Failure and Picking Yourself Up Again

“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.” -Shakespeare’s Macbeth

Macbeth is my favorite Shakespearean play and we know what end came to the character, though he had goals and with his goals came failure and ruin…but with goals most of us do not prepare for failure. Most of us, our goals don’t end in ruin but yet we do not plan for those obstacles that may impede our path to accomplishing success. We visualize what must be done and by the end of day one, we are ready to either quit and/or exit promptly. Have you encountered this before?

So, I fell off last week with my first “how to save myself challenge” on meditation. Yes, I felt like Macbeth in that soliloquy, acknowledging my failure but I am working to recover this week. Getting back into the discipline of meditation is not quite as easy as it was over 8 years ago when I practiced diligently. At that time, meditation was also a part of my practice along with my spirituality. I have lost my path again even with that (looking into the vast nebula which is made of me).

Moving forward and getting back on track towards that goal is often put off for another day. Then you try again and feel empowered that the next day you have accomplished what you set out to do with laser focus. A week has gone by and you haven’t skipped a day of your dedicated purpose. Your pace is as steady as a heartbeat, not erratic or slowed.

At first, with your goal set, you then decide attainment and timeframe. Such examples are saving for three months for a new car or reduce that belly fat to a sexy midriff for summertime or build-a-business using these successful tips and steps to financial freedom. In any case, no one leaves room for the fumble, the failure or the agony of defeat. Nobody realizes that they can fall and get back up again, tomorrow. And it is alright. Trust me when I say it is and don’t stop getting up after it all.

These are my original thoughts…life lessons and fumbles. I’ll being posting on my journey. Please subscribe for original content and leave a comment if you like!

SHORT STORY: AwAkEn (Limited)

It was a faint touch on the shoulder that stirred her from sleep. The sun crept across the window, but she wasn’t conscious of it in the least. The second touch was on her elbow, then on her ankle, then an aggressive tap on the brow. This rouse her from sleep abruptly.

She sat up quickly from the shock, realizing that no one was in the house she slept soundly in for the past several hours. Her breathing quickened and she searched around her bedroom, but there was no one.

DREAMSCAPE: YOU ONLY VISIT ME IN MY DREAMS NOW (Short Story)

Strange, I became accustomed to dreams of you pleasuring yourself with other women. Some of their faces blurred, others were women that we knew. Genie of my dreams, you are my reality and within my reality you are pristine. I could not understand why my subconscious missunderstood you to being unfaithful.

Now you only visit me in my dreams. In reality, you started a fire in me and now it is too much, you want to back out. In this dream I had a few hours ago, the reality was different. You came to me in my dreams. You entered into my home while I slept soundly in my bed. I was nude under the covers, but you only watched me. Then I stirred and you came into my view. Genie, I was elated to see you and you came into the bed with me and we rolled around in my giant bed together. We laughed and smiled at each other. The sunbeams glowed around you and the moon reflected from your eyes. I caressed your face, my fingers drizzled over your beard. I kissed and held you tighter. You mde me feel in this dream that there is hope in us. I looked up at you as you stood at the edge of the bed, Genie. You stood radiant, more brilliant than ever and I cried.

I woke, being both in awe and saddened because In being a wake, I realize that I have lost you. Possibly forever. You will never remember the good times we did share.

Thank you for reading about my dream I had just this afternoon.

This original blog post was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her April 2020 (C)

DREAMSCAPES: HEXED BY THE PAST (Short Story, Nightmare)

No matter how far into the future you run, you cannot escape your past. All that talk about leaving behind the past and starting anew makes no difference to the past, especially if the pasts still remembers you. Especially if the past is fucked up, alive and has vengence in its heart. Its coming for you.

This dream, actually, this nightmare begins in a two-story home. The home I llived in as a child. It was dark and dismal, natural since nothing really good happened in that house. It was a place of living nightmares at times. From time to time I can actually recall a memory that was light and lifted.. Often if I “dream” about this house it is often a nightmare. This time was as no other.

So, I kinda left my ex and his family behind some years back. Let us just say that I was very close to his mother and sister, and as time went by and I separated from their son and brother, our relationship was broken as well.

In this nightmare, my ex’s sister was performing a damning ritual against me. She was in my childhood home, willing malice into being and preparing it to seek me out. As she mixed a concoction on rats blood, petrified wood shavings, baby’s breath, a sizable portion of my kinky hair and castor oil to bind, she hummed a tune to herself. In this nightmare, I hovered in my astral body while she invoked this spell upon me. I was terrified, but at the same time understanding. Probably part of my guilt. As she mixed and ground the spells contents with her mortar and pestle, I felt myself let go of the guilt I felt from those past entanglements. For some reason, at first I thought the spell was to hex me, damn me for eternity, but instead it was one that freed me, healed me and sent me on my way to make a better future for myself in relationships that I have presently and for the future.

We remember dreams for a reason.

Thank you for reading about my dream I had this afternoon. I figure my dreams or nightmares make light to things I probably don’t want to reconcile within myself. I remember in order to bring light to some things I need to grow out of and consciously face.

This original blog post and short story was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her. April 2020 (C)

SHORT STORY: Trouble Travels Down De Road

Ivy came out of her house and exclaimed, “dis day so hot and steamy!” Then, she sighed and faking a faint, she set her sights on the open road. She thought to herself, no child in the neighborhood would dare run on this burning road without slippers today. It was late in the afternoon on the island of St. Croix and unless you were sitting near the beach or waterfronts on either side of this tropical island, you would not feel a breeze bless your cheek nor forehead right now. Even the candy lady, Ms. Bernadette, down the road ran out of lemonade as well as soursop ice-pop! With even the slightest of movement, beads of sweat would rise upon the thinnest skin in places to give pause…

Here comes Big Marjorie, walking down the road with her large brown purse, silver hoop earrings and can be seen from a distance with her colorful display. Her updo and waterfall curls with her bangs were swooped to the side. As she marched downhill, all of her extended belly and curves bouncing as she hasten her steps. Ivy met Ms. Mary on the porch of her house. With a scowl on her face, Ivy said, “Whey she tink she goin’?” As Marjorie came closer with footfalls as heavy as a mighty juggernaut, you can see her pink and yellow “Sunday’s Best” dress shuffling in the breeze…

Ivy couldn’t help herself, she said to Ms. Mary, “Buh wait, whey da breeze come from?” Swiftly, Marjorie passed the neighbor’s houses on both sides of the road.

Again, Ivy blurted out to Ms. Mary, “Meson, she lucky no minibus was passin’ ‘cause she tek up the hole road like ah float in ah parade! She woulda geh bounce down foh sure. Marjorie ain geh no sign on she sayin’ ‘butt meh down please’!?!” Ivy laughed loud and hard. Ms. Mary only look at Ivy over her bifocal glasses, nodding her head.

Marjorie continued on her way to her destination, a big bright smile on her face, her lips were cherry red. In truth, Ivy nor Ms. Mary could guess what was the final destination of Marjorie this summery evening. They sat on the porch most days to “pung melee” or gossip about their neighbors around them. They would mostly make up tales from heresy or create their own curry to the mix. This evening it was to make up a story behind the mood of Big Marjorie.

“Well, she look well swell in she dress, mama. Maybe someting goin’ on down de road we don’ kno’ ‘bout?” Ms. Mary began. “Maybe we ain heh ‘bout it?” She offered to Ivy. Instantly, Ivy frowned. She was still wearing her sleep bonnet on her head, she frowned hard with her cigarette butt hanging in the right corner of her mouth. Then her lips pursed hard now as she took another puff from the ciggie. Ivy’s chestnut eyes turned dark and narrowed, then she cusssed. “Deh bettah not be havin’ no party I wasn’t invited toh, cause I neeeeeeeeeeeed toh be dey. How she more importan’ dan meh!”

Like a cyclone, Ivy whisked her way into her room for 10 minutes. There was all sorts of sounds that come from it, such sounds a small storm would make. When she emerged, she was wearing her long red thin strapped sundress, hugging her slim figure. The bonnet hid her thick and long brown, sun-touched locks. Those locks now drizzled down her shoulders and back. On her narrow feet, her gold sandals shone as though they were from mount Olympus and her smile, though her teeth slightly yellowed from her constantly smoking, were straight…her lips painted with bronze.

“Aye-Aye,” Ms. Mary croaked. “Yoh ain geh meh ah chance toh come out.” So she ran in her own house as quick as a mongoose and sprint back 3 minutes flat with a short pixie-cut wig and an eggshell colored daring pants suit. “I ready!” She bellowed out. So now, both ladies hurried down the road wondering who was having fete without them. They both were vex but excited to see who is going to want to dance with them. In their own minds, they fantasized about who else will be there. If they will have cruzan rum or Hennessy to drink with they coke? They even wondered who they will cuss and fuss at for not inviting them. Ivy let out under her breath, “is ah dam shame!” Then, her mimic, Ms. Mary squeeze out through her missing teeth, “Issa dam shame, foh true!”

They both hot on the pursuit of Big Marjorie and this party…but lost Big Marjorie’s trail. Then, they both found themselves standing in the middle of a cluster of several homes. Ivy looked at Mary, Mary looked right back at Ivy…there was no way for them to figure out which house Marjorie duck in and out of sight! This made Ivy’s face turn red with embarrassment. “She gave us deh slip!” They then walked by all the houses in the area listening for music, not a jam in earshot!

Both ladies were vex, roaming along the road, sneaking from house to house…eventually, they quietly moved through the now dark street and came upon a small white house. It was so tiny, but there was faint soca rhythm sounds filtering through the air. They followed and got up really close to the house to listen. The soca music grew louder the closer they came to the front porch. Ivy started excitedly swinging her hips already in anticipation, Ms. Mary started to get on bad, throwing her hips and wide bottom in a swaying motion. “Dis is it!” They both thought. They were working up their waists, following the music and advancing up the white steps onto the porch. The door was unlocked, so they both swing on through, their eyes tightly closed and faces in passionate expressions while they worked up and danced. They came in the house bawling, “PARTY!” and then opened their eyes to now find Big Marjorie naked in the living room on top of a very old and skinny gentleman. “Oh shit!” Ivy and Ms. Mary bawl out in unison.

Thank you for reading this short story. It was inspired from my upbringing in the Virgin Islands and my Caribbean background. I wanted to share a bit of our dialect with the world. Please leave comments and constructive criticism or critiques.

This original blog post and short story was written and copyrighted by Juana M. Gumbs. All rights are reserved by her. April 2020(C)

SHORT STORY: TWO HATS AND A BALDHEAD

The air conditioning was turned on high in the blue 2019 Nissan Camary as they were flying down the highway. On the radio Mercy Chinwo’s Jesus Loves Me Too Much played to the loudest setting for the volume. All three women, mumbled portions of the song as they were on their journey. Their heads were bobbing to the beat of the song, preparing themselves for the event at the Janis Jesuit Witness of The Bush Burn Episcopalian Church somewhere in Georgia where they would attend a women’s luncheon. Two of the elderly ladies wore hats, and the third was bald headed. The lady that drove the car was hitting the highway at 75 miles per hour all the way, whether the highway signs advised her or not. They wanted to make it before most guests and even more prompt than the pastor. Her heavy foot on the gas had the other ladies clinging to whatever they can in the vehicle to grip themselves for this adventure.

Understanding that they were leaving from Columbia, the capital of South Carolina, to the unknown areas of wherever this church was that they was seeking, they needed to have someone who wasn’t afraid to break the law behind the wheel. Mildred Wainwright Hubble, the driver, couldn’t turn her head this way or that since she wore a church hat that was wide on all sides. It was egg-shell colored with one pastel green sash around the head portion and lace covered it. Truthfully, if it wasn’t for that sash or lace, it would resemble the likes of a sombrero. She used the side view and rare view mirrors every now and again to switch lanes. Her stocking covered feet, overlapped her tight fitted sandals, her fat feet mashing the gas and breaks when needed. She drove as though she was blowing like the wind down I-20. In the passenger seat, sat Michaela Turner, with her head in a low fade and lips pursed into a frown. She never liked hats and took pride in keeping her head as bald as possible since her 40’s after she was told she had a head for it. Katrina Manard Mahalia Jones sat in the back seat, behind Mildred. Katrina’s hat was handmade and she took pride in her hair-hat wearing as much as possible. With every hat she made, a wig was attached to it. Today’s hat had a short bob wig under a small brimmed hat the color of sage green, with a blue sash and a single pink flower.

In the distance, sirens was bellowing. The music was at top pitch and the women was more concerned with arriving early that neither of them noticed the trouble brewing in the rare of the car. In a flash, Mildred caught the lights of the police car in the rare view mirror a mile away and put both fat feet on the brakes! The car screeched for a few feet before it stopped. The cop clocked them a few miles back, but neither of them saw. Too busy bobbing their heads and the music as well as the dastardly driving was distracting. Mildred cussed loudly. As soon as they came to a stop, Mildred told Michaela to take the wheel and say she was driving. Michaela was the oldest…Mildred thought they could play on the sympathy of the officer. Then Mildred scrambled to the back seat to escape and deceive the police officer. Katrina just watched in amazement when the women switched seats. Their seemingly elderly demeanor movements went away and Mildred’s quick jack rabbit jump into the back seat happened in a blink. Michaela on the other hand, struggled to get into the drivers seat. Her slip for her decked out two piece skirt jacket suit almost got caught in the gears while she threw her legs over in the drivers seat to save her friend. Unfortunately, she knew that throughout the years, Mildred has incurred a few speeding tickets and most were unpaid.

The police officer finally came to a halt behind the 2019 Nissan. He wore his classic cop shades, salt and pepper mustache and hat as he strolled up to the ladies vehicle. Michaela rolled down the window, grinning, hoping her winning smile will soften the officer’s heart. She paid for all those teeth.

The officer said, “Good day, ladies.” He looked at each one of them, a frown worn on his lips. Katrina was seemingly nervous. “Ma’am, do you know how fast you were driving?”

Michaela quickly blurted out, “Officeeeeeeeerrrr…we are on the way to a grand event at a church in Georgia. We are trying to get there. I wear glasses, as you can see. I relied on pure faith, not sight.” Her teeth like large chiclets as she grinned away the deception. Katrina in the back seat behind her, just erupted and broke wind from her nervousness. It was loud and stinky, but Michaela maintained eye contact with the officer.

“Ma’am, you were driving at 91 miles per hour in a 70 miles per hour zone!” The officer announced, “That is way over the limit that is allowed and is considered reckless driving.”

“Jesus take the wheel,” Michaela blurted out, feigning faint and clutching invisible pearls at her short neck. “I swear, I had not noticed the speed zone. Is there a solution to this? We were moving with divine purpose, you see officer.”

“Lady, I don’t think Jesus could help you out this situation, but I’m a god fearing man myself. I can pray for your safe passage…after I write you up this here ticket…It will take me a few minutes, though. I can see y’all was in a rush. Y’all could pray until I come back. Where’s your driver’s license and insurance for the car, ma’am?”

All Michaela did was drop her jaw, she couldn’t protest. Mildred put her head down the entire time, not uttering a word, while Katrina was passing gas loudly in the back, excusing herself after each one. The stench rose and muffled them in the car. Michaela quietly rolled down all the windows.

After the officer left them a ticket that all three women would have to put in to pay for, Mildred then told the two ladies she would take to the wheel once again for the remainder of the trip. Michaela said, “No! Nope, now this is on my record, we may not have any more blessings between here and our destination to deal with your hot foot!” She pouted.

Mildred shouted from the back seat, “well, let me at least sit in the passenger seat! Geez and bread! Don’t lecture me now. We almost the same age!”

FROM THE AUTHOR: Just practicing my creative writing. An attempt at humor. My niece and I were taking a trip to Augusta GA when we saw some ladies with two hats and a baldhead and she inspired the name for a story. A close friend of mine provided some plots on the adventure. Please use the comments section to give your thoughts and criticisms on this short story. I write on different genres and haven’t found my niche, yet. Thank you for reading!

SHORT STORY: POUR MY HEART

This was their first valentine’s together and Laurie was careful in choosing every item with precise detail. “Everything in love,” she repeated to herself as she went about purchasing balloons, cupcakes, chocolates and even a jar to put sweet messages to honor him. When she arrived home, Laurie was so ecstatic while putting all the items together and carefully writing a letter to him so that he knows why she invented the “Pour My Heart” jar.

Before he left for work that morning, she quickly slipped into his vehicle to create the display of items. In the passenger seat of the car she put the cupcakes, gift bag with chocolates and all five of the helium balloons. The balloons were an assortment of stars, hearts and one balloon that said “You are Special”. He always let her know as long as they were together that he was not into celebrating holidays, but she wants him to always know that he is loved. One more thing to make the display complete, the “Pour My Heart” jar! She forgot it in the house!

Her love is in the shower when she races into the bedroom and into their walk-in closet to retrieve the jar. As she slipped out the room while he was in the bathroom and she closed the door quietly behind her. Finally, she got to the car and laid the jar on the seat, in front of the cupcakes. Laurie stood back to admire the display on his passenger seat. Then, there was the ringing of a phone somewhere within the car, nearby. She was stunned because her boyfriend’s phone is always on his nightstand near his side of the bed whenever he is in the house. Where was the ringing coming from? She looked around the front seat as well as the passenger seat of the car and could not find a phone. The ringing stopped momentarily, but then started again frantically. She looked in the back seat, then stopped again to listen carefully as to the location where the ringing possibly came from. Laurie checked the compartment between the front seats, nothing. Then she looked in the glove compartment and heard the ringing intensify. There was papers and other objects in there, even a gun. She had not known about a gun that he owned, though suspicious, she did not touch it. While digging around in the compartment she found a pregnancy test and dropped it instantly…when realizing what it was. The phone started to ring again, and this time she saw it. It was a flip phone, black and it flashed furiously as it rang. It felt like five minutes or more before she picked it up, then put it to her ear to listen.

The person on the other line spoke first. It was a woman’s sultry voice that whispered from the phone.

“Greg, I’m so glad I got you. Happy Valentine’s, baby!”

FROM THE AUTHOR: Just practicing my creative writing. Please use the comments section to give your thoughts, criticisms on this short story. I write on different genres and haven’t found my niche, yet. Thank you for reading!

SHORT STORY: NOCTURNA TOUCH

The mundane ringing of the door alerted the store keeper, Travis, to the presence of another customer. It has been a long day, with few curious folks entering and exiting without purchases. Perhaps he may be lucky this time, so he perked up and offered salutations to them.

“Hi there, look around and let me know if you need assistance,” he uttered the same script as he did for anyone that crossed that threshold. At first he thought it was genuine, but time has made it habit.

“Okay,” they would usually reply. This time there was no response, just a nod of the head from a woman with wide almond eyes, heart-shaped face and black bangs with a ponytail. She had not looked at him, just nodded while she looked at the first product near the door. This made him curious, because it was the dildo section. It would be a lot to say that this was not the type of store most women would come to alone to peruse through sex toys and novelties. In his experience, most women would come with a man or other femailes. It wasn’t always the case. He looked from his booth, follwing her with his questioning eyes. Something about her…her stark ivory colored skin, in contrast to her obsidian hued hair brightedned up the room even in the dull lighting. The features of her face he analyzed, starting with her cheekbones, high and youthful. She carried herself in a way whereas she seemed older…but he was not sure. Observing her clothing, he noticed she wore all black, even her stockings, black fishnets. Finally she made her way to him after looking at the bedroom candies and handcuffs.

“So, what do you think,” this Aphrodite spoke to him for the first time. The lilt in her words offered that she may be foreign.

Travis mouth was caught open for a bit, being that he was taken by surprise and roused from his thoughts of her as she turned her attention on him. Unknowingly, she was the best thing he saw all day, probably all week at this business. Even as he closed his mouth, he had no words for her in that moment. Before he could blink, she was in the booth with him. She closed the door and now she was in his world walking toward him before he could think to refuse. To his surprise, she held his face before he could protest or even react, and kissed him so deeply, that every hair on his body rose electtrified around him. It scared him a little at first and then he became compliant, soft limbs except for one. His pants bulged and she welcomed him into both her hands, caressing. Taking in his hurried breaths, then low moans, he even almost closed his eyes because the escatasy was all encompassing. At this point he wanted to know more of these emotions, this higher vibe provided in her delicate hands, stroking and cuddling. Before he knew it, she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants through her power. Her will be done, the obsidian haired maven, alluringly licked the palm of her hand and massaged him as he was ripe and extended. Travis gasped then sighed as he felt the wetness against him. That feeling was everything and his head felt as though it was going to pop. The only thing that kept bringing him back to awareness was that he remembered that anyone can just walk in at any moment. That thought made him more eager, anticipating the next sensation, the waves of delight was out of this reality. While he knocked his head back as the electricity coursed through his back from her hand job, he gave into her wildness. In a swift movement, she was on her kneess and he looked down at her charcoal hair in that high ponytail and she grinned up at him at first, then burried her head in his lap.

“Why,” he spoke softly, “It…” He couldn’t finish his words only fell off a cliff as she performed this art. He closed his eyes and she sucked and wet his tender head, so he thrusted his hips as a response. The lights behind his eyes, they flickered and danced while he slipped into this mist she took him into. Instantly he thought of holding her ponytail to get a better hold of her pacing. Just as he thought so, he found that his hands made the movements as quick as his thoughts.