Thursday, December 16, 2010

The Christmas Stranger - Part Seven - Final

He could think of no way out that wouldn’t cost one or both of them their lives. Why on earth did his promise to his mother have to hit him between the eyes now? When he was this close to putting an end to being a road rat, his conscience had to kick into high gear?
            If he let her go Jonathon, Sr would just send someone else after her and if that someone was Bruno, he wouldn’t think twice about hurting her. As the plan was formulating in his mind he felt the need to reassure her that she was safe from him.
“I know you have very little reason to trust me, but I’m not going to hurt you,” Lance told her. She looked far from convinced, and really, how could he expect otherwise? “Tell me, what’s his method of choice?”
            Judging by the look on her face he’d done nothing to calm her, in fact, she looked like she was staring back at a madman. “Excuse me? What are you talking about?”
            “Your husband. I’ve seen that look before and I know what put it there. I won’t take you, or little Jonathon, back to that.”
            She knew better than to trust Lance of all people, but there was a part of her she was ashamed to say that did want to believe he was telling the truth. And then there was the other part, the one who knew how to survive, that was planning her escape using the frying pan on the stove if he so much as walked too near her little boy.
            “You have to change your name again. Hand over all and anything that could link you to Linda James,” he said as he told her of his plan. “You have to leave Jonathon James, Jr behind. It’s the only way you’ll be safe.”
            “No! That’ll never happen,” she said as she inched her way toward the stove.
            “That’s how I found you this time. You have to change his name too, and move far from here. We’ll burn your and Jonathon’s identification in the wood stove before you go.”
            “No.” Through her profound relief that he hadn’t meant to literally leave little Jonnie behind she still found a way to find the fly in the ointment, so to speak. “I can’t do that. It’s one thing for me to choose to give up my identity, another to take his away without him ever knowing who he really is.”
             “Take it from someone who lived on the run. I never used my real name until I was sixteen, and no, I didn’t like it. But I understood the why of it.”
            “How old were you?”
            “See? You were old enough to know why and who you were. Jonathon isn’t.”
            He could see her point but he knew they were running out of time. Just as that thought crossed his mind his phone rang and with dread he answered.
            She didn’t know what was being said or who was on the other end of the call but she could tell it was good news. Well that’s good. At least someone was getting some good news tonight. Too bad it wasn’t her.
            “That was Bruno,” he said when he hung up.
            The fact that it was Bruno and Lance was smiling ear to ear didn’t bode well for her.
            “I’m not sure how to tell you this but neither of us needs to run anymore.”
            “Care to explain?”
            “I'm sorry, well, or maybe not, to tell you that Jonathon died tonight. And from what Bruno just told me, Jonathon never got around to changing his will, and you now own everything...lock, stock and henchmen. You’re now the boss. Lance Becker, at your service,” he said with a bow.
            She stared dumbfounded at the man who’d made her life a living hell for the last few months who was now giving her the news that would free her...if she could only believe.
Linda felt a little guilty that all she felt right now was that this had to be a joke. No more hotels? No more running, changing her name? She could go back to being who she truly was? If true, this had turned out to be the happiest, merriest Christmas she’d ever spent.          
Could it be possible that her wish had come true this season? Oh, not that Jonathon would die, but to be free of his controlling, abusive behaviour without having to give up her son?
Her first order of business was to believe it. Second? To head for home and see to the arrangements for Jonathon’s burial. Then, she had some firing to do. Bruno gave her the creeps, and Lance, well Lance deserved to be set free of the life he’d led under Jonathon’s thumb. 
She now realized that if Lance had truly wanted to find her and harm her, he would've long before she'd made it this far. Maybe, as payback for all he had done for her, she’d ask Lance to stay on at the James’ house? After all, she’d need to have someone overseeing the place until little Jonnie was old enough to take over his father’s heritage. And what was her plan for herself? 
Well, her plan was to come back to Headingley, to happily and contentedly be Linda James, widow, and mother of Jonathon James, Jr.

The End

In keeping with the spirit of the season I chose to end ‘The Christmas Stranger’ on a good note.
Merry Christmas!
May Stephens

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

The Christmas Stranger - Part Six

She had the small town bad habit of leaving her back door unlocked which made getting in the house easier than he thought it would be. In a matter of minutes he was hiding in a dark alcove off the kitchen, listening to Lucy and Linda’s goodbyes. This was running so smoothly he could hardly believe it.
            Cooing and gurgling to the baby, she flicked on the light and walked into the kitchen totally oblivious to Lance’s presence. Putting Jonathon in his baby seat - then turning her kettle on - all the while telling the baby how much she’d missed him the night before.
“We’re never going back to that life again. I promise to keep you safe, little Jon.” She wasn’t happy to be packing to leave town before dawn. There were times, like now, when she wondered if she was being selfish dragging Jonathon away from his father. What kind of life had she set him up for, never able to settle in one place for long? What kind of life was that for a little boy?
He knew the moment she’d spotted him. Her spine went rigid and in one move she had one hand on the baby seat huddling in the corner with Jonathon behind her, her other hand on the hot kettle. “You’ll have to kill me to get to him,” she said as she spun around and faced him.
When a line like that made him feel like a shit-heel, it probably was time for a new line of work, he thought, unable to look into those eyes staring back at him with such desperation and not have a flashback into his own childhood.
In that moment, Lance was eight years old again waiting for the beating his father was about to lay on him for what would be the last time before his mother pushed Lance behind her and took the beating that was meant for him.
It was one of many she’d taken, but that night was different for after his father had drifted off in a drunken stupor, she’d taken Lance, never to return to that world again. The years spent on the run had been financially tough, but he had to hand it to his mother...not once did she consider going back.
When Lance turned sixteen and refused to run anymore, his mother swore a promise from him that he’d never allow himself to treat a woman that way. So it was very disconcerting to see that fear in Linda’s eyes and know it was fear of him.
 Correction. That was the look of fear from living the same life his mother and others like her had. And that was what had been nagging him all along. His instincts never steered him wrong and he was sure they weren’t about to start now.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

The Christmas Stranger - Part Five

His boss wouldn’t care that Lance sat in the cold from dawn to dusk, fearing the exhaust from his car would give him away while he watched and waited for Ethel/Linda to leave. Although his boss would be glad to hear that Lance, keeping a safe distance so as not to spook her on the lengthy drive, had the boy’s car seat in sight.
His instructions (after being assured how patient his boss had been up to now) as of an hour ago, were to get the boy tonight using whatever means necessary. This job could end none too soon to suit Lance. Then maybe he’d retire. Yeah, he thought, like the boss would allow that.
She stopped in front of a brightly decorated house, not the one he’d followed her from this morning, and parked at the roadside with him a few doors down. If anyone was watching they’d see a diehard runner in a black jogging suit out for a winter evening run.
He jogged by in time to see her step out carrying Jonathon, along with so much baby paraphernalia it was a wonder she didn’t tip over sideways into a freshly- built snow bank. Finally, his luck was turning around. That luck took a quick nosedive when it registered somewhere that although that was definitely Linda’s car he’d been following, the woman who now stepped into the light of the porch lamp was not Linda James.
“Son of a,” he said to himself while a whirlwind of questions ran through his head. Now what was he to do? Was the baby in her arms even Jonathon or had he been following the wrong woman? Had she known it was him following her this morning? Was this a set-up to throw him off her trail?
“Good night, Lucy. Tell Ethel that Jonathon can stay overnight with me anytime. And congratulate her on winning the contest when she gets back.”
“I will. Thanks again, Maggie, for everything.”
Under the cloak of darkness their voices carried, assuring him that he had at last found Jonathon. “And where baby is, Mom won’t be too far behind,” he said into the silent night, as he crossed the street and sauntered back to his car, giving her a couple of blocks lead before turning his lights on to follow.
As she parked in Linda’s driveway he cut his engine and lights in front of her neighbour’s house, and hunched down. Scoping out the quiet surroundings he spotted the path that ran between the two houses; a hedgerow-lined path that would keep him hidden from view and led right to her basement window.
Perfect, this job was going to be simple after all, he thought, as with gloved hands he opened his car door after a quick look around. His senses now humming as they always were when he knew he was close to his prey, as hidden from view, he watched Linda pull into her driveway.
One day he would look back and applaud her for the car switch that had almost – almost - thrown him off her trail, but for now, he was tired of playing her cat and mouse games. Tonight the jig was up.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

The Christmas Stranger - Part Four

“And the winner is...Ethel Hathaway. Ethel, if you’re listening, head on down to the station to pick up your winnings.”
            She had to have heard that wrong. It couldn’t be her. There must be another Ethel Hathaway, one who’d entered the contest.
“Well, they say everyone has a double, but I never thought it would happen to me,” said Ethel. Then she saw the look on Lucy’s face and knew. Ethel never thought it could happen in her lifetime but Lucy was so excited she couldn’t speak.
“Lucy?” Drawing her name out slowly didn’t produce the effect Ethel had hoped for.
“Well,” she laughed, “you weren’t going to enter. So I did it for you.”
Lucy knew five thousand dollars wouldn’t go very far in these times, but winning it certainly could ease the tension Ethel was feeling as Christmas approached. She saw the struggle Ethel went through each day, the stress that never seemed to be far away and wanted to make life a little easier for her and her beautiful little boy.
“Why would you do such a thing? There are people out there that need that money more than I do, Lucy. I have a job, I can provide for Jonathon,” she said angrily.
The tension Lucy had intended to ease mounted higher. She was crestfallen that Ethel wasn’t happier, indeed not happy at all by the look of things, about this.
The hurt and bewildered look on Lucy’s face was enough to make Ethel feel she should have changed her name to Scrooge but before she could attempt to smooth things over with her friend she needed to get her panic under control.
In reality, she knew there was no way for anyone who heard the broadcast to know she wasn’t who she said she was...with the exception of one...and hoped that ‘he’ hadn’t been tuned in to hear her name called. And it would be enough money to get her and Jonathon safely away, and, money that couldn’t be traced.
            “Thank you,” she said through the forced smile she was far from feeling. “It just caught me off guard. Thank you for being such a generous spirit.” And with that, and the hug she gave Lucy, her friend was back to being herself again.
            “So, what will you do with it?” Lucy asked.
            “I don’t have a clue. I suppose I should figure out when I can make it in to pick up the cheque before I try to decide what to do with it.”
Ethel was never sure when someone would come along who’d be able to out her for a fraud. If they wanted proof she was Ethel Hathaway, she had it, but she hoped they didn’t scrutinize hers too closely. The friend of a friend who’d doctored the new cards for her assured her he was the best not in the business. Maybe that’s what worried her...
            Lucy broke into her thoughts once again. “You have to pick it up by seven o’clock tonight...or you forfeit it. That was in the contest rules.”
            “I have to pick Jonathon up from the sitter. I can’t possibly make it into the city by seven.” Well, maybe it was just as well. Maybe that was a roadblock put in front of her by God so the money could be passed on to someone more deserving.
            “Why don’t I go pick Jonathon up and take him back to my place? You can come and get him whenever you get back. No rush.”
“No. I can’t let you. You don’t have a car seat for him.”
“Then I’ll take your car, and you can take mine. I just filled mine this morning, so you have enough gas to get there and back,” Lucy said as she watched the wheels of doubt turning in Ethel’s head. “You’re just looking for excuses. Now, quit over-thinking and just go before you run out of time!”
“Are you sure? Being around an infant can be very trying when you’re not used to it. What if he runs out of diapers? Or formula?”
 “I’ve seen you pack his diaper bag. I’d stake my life that you have enough diapers, formula and anything else he might need for a week packed in there,” said a now exasperated Lucy, “Am I right?” How could one person have so much stress over winning?
“Okay,” she laughed, getting into the spirit of things, “You’re right. And I know he’ll be in good hands with you. I’ll just give Maggie a call to let her know you’ll be picking Jonathon up, and then I’ll be on my way.”
Lucy had said they're goodbyes to their boss, Eddie, and was dressed and ready to leave before Ethel had even hung up from her phone call to Maggie.
“Give my little guy a hug and kiss for me. Tell him Mommy’ll be home as soon as I can,” she said as they switched car keys and headed off on their evening’s journeys. “And Lucy?” she said from across the parking lot, “I don’t know if I can ever thank you enough for being the friend you are to me.” She would miss this town, but she was going to miss Lucy most of all.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Weddings...and other Milestones

On the afternoon of October 9th, 2010, my husband and I, joined by very cherished family members and friends, gathered to watch our youngest son marry the woman of his dreams.

I look to the altar and watch this young groom, our son, as he patiently waits for his bride to arrive. Their eyes lock together as she walks down the aisle and anyone with a still-beating heart knew the look of love that passed between them.

The picture biography of my little boy’s life, etched solidly on my heart where it can never be lost, starts playing silently, keeping time with the bridal music. In that moment of moments when speaking their vows, I look up to see, not that little boy, but a young man pledging his love to his bride, his bride quietly speaking her  vows through her tears to the man she loves.

Lost ties, late rides, the endless errands and tasks involved with a wedding are all but forgotten, for in that moment I look to see my husband quietly wiping away tears of his own, and I know I am blessed to have been here before, as I will be again. In different surroundings watching a different couple, the tears he last shed for our oldest son’s wedding on August 22nd, 2009 are tears he will no doubt shed once again when our last – but not least – son marries the woman of his dreams.

For those tears that we share are ones of happiness for the men our sons have become, of sadness for a time long ago kept alive in our hearts, and tears of joy. Joy for the future we’ve been blessed to share as our sons set out on that journey called life. And joy for the honour of getting to know and share our lives with the women who love them. Joy that we were blessed to be there to have those picture biographies playing.

To Billy, Brian, Brad, Melissa, Grace and Torrie: We love and cherish these moments with each and every one of you and wish nothing but the best life has to offer.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

The Christmas Stranger - Part Three

“You fit the bill perfectly, Ethel. You’re a single mom, a widow. Who could be more deserving to win five thousand dollars? Just think of how much easier that could make life for you and Jonathon.”
            Lucy had a heart of gold but her chattering was falling on deaf ears today. There was no way Ethel was putting her life story – how she became a single parent - over the airwaves for today’s ‘Cash Giveaway of the Day’ contest. Not even to win cash of her own that she could use to buy her more time.
She would’ve loved to make the little town of Headingley, Manitoba her hometown; to stay where the townsfolk had welcomed her and her son with open arms. It saddened and frustrated her that she’d have to sneak off like a thief in the night once again.
For she recognized the face in her rear view mirror as the man who would, if given the chance, put an end to the safe world she was avidly trying to create for herself and Jonathon.
Lance Becker, her husband’s go-to man. Need someone found? Need someone to go missing? Need to find the wife of an abusive and controlling man? Call Lance Becker, he’ll get the job done.
Ethel knew he was nearby. She couldn’t shake that same old feeling off throughout the day...that feeling of being watched. Looking around, finding no one or nothing out of the usual order of the day didn’t make her feel any better. Since the day she’d found Jonathon’s security room with all screens showing various snapshots of every move she made throughout her days she had learned to trust those instincts.
“It’s five o’clock. Today’s contest is now closed. After this jingle from our sponsors, Reg will announce today’s contest winner.”
They were about to make some woman very happy and Ethel wished whoever she was all the peace and happiness the season could bring as she readied herself for her long drive home.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

The Christmas Stranger - Part Two

His boss was irate that she’d been gone a few months and Lance still hadn’t delivered the package to his doorstep. In Lance’s defence, she certainly hadn’t made the task an easy one, changing her name and appearance as she had. Linda James, wife of Jonathon James II, mother of Jonathon James III, from Vancouver, British Columbia was pretty good at hiding her true identity.
It had taken the better part of two months before she’d made the mistake that put him on the trail of ‘Meredith Halfpenny, divorced, childless woman from London, England’.  By purchasing the car she now drove with her husband’s credit card, Linda had left a paper trail that led Lance straight to Calgary, Alberta only to find that within days of buying the car she’d moved on.
Ethel Hathaway, widowed mother from Washington, DC, would’ve retained her anonymity had he not had every electronic path covered. One use of the boy’s health card was the blip on his radar screen he needed. This time he’d make absolutely certain that would be the blip that would cost Linda her freedom.
Lance had his qualms about what had caused the wife of a very wealthy man to go to such lengths to hide, taking their infant son - the only heir to the James’ family fortune - with her. Though he had to remind himself he was getting paid to find and return her – willingly or unwillingly, harmed or unharmed - not figure out why she ran from his boss in the first place.
            The only tell that young Jonathon was still with her was the car seat anchored in the old car she drove but he’d yet to see the boy. Lance hoped to spy him when he followed her home, for he knew he’d be putting his life on the line to return with the wife and not the son.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

The Christmas Stranger - Part One

“Only 29 shopping days left ‘til Christmas, folks.”
That’s not what Ethel wanted to hear blaring from her radio on her morning commute to work.
Heading to a job that the only satisfaction it gave was that she could pay the bills was made tougher by the new-fallen snow. She was glad she’d had the sense God gave a pea and had her snow tires installed last week. And having another year’s tread left on them had to be considered a blessing...didn’t it?
So folks, that’s today’s contest. We’ll start taking calls at eight o’clock.”
            Ethel’d been so focussed on the fool who’d been tailgating her for the last kilometre she missed what today's contest was all about. Oh well, she was sure even before she had her coat off and hung, Lucy will have filled her in on the latest Strictly Country FM radio contest, and the tailgater would be entirely forgotten throughout their days events.
            Their boss took his love of wildlife a little too far she thought each day as she hung her coat on the antler-shaped peg. “Good morning, Lucy,” she said.
            “Did you hear the latest? About the contest? Are you going to enter? You should. If anyone qualifies it’s you. Oh, and good morning. You’re later than usual.”
            She was always surprised Lucy could get a breath in easier than anyone could get a word in when she talked. “Oh, some idiot was following so close behind me I was worried if I didn’t slow down I’d hit a patch of ice and take us both out. He barely kept from clipping my bumper as I turned in to park.”
            While Lucy filled her in on the contest qualifications said idiot was parking further up the road, hidden from the view of the restaurant. In a grove of trees he prepared to wait her shift out. He had nothing but time...

Stay tuned....

Monday, November 8, 2010


There must be Peace in one's heart before it can take root and grow throughout the world.

May Stephens

Friday, October 29, 2010

Peggy's Cove, Nova Scotia

More than the strong ocean winds bring a tear to my eye amid the turmoil of the Atlantic Ocean, for there lies to me one of the most peaceful, most powerful natural places in the world...Peggy's Cove, Nova Scotia.

There are more than a few legends that surround how Peggy's Cove got its name, but the one I'm most anxious to believe is the one where a young girl named Margaret was the only survivor when, in 1800, the schooner she was on hit the rocks of the cove and sank. Margaret, having no family, or memory of who she was, was named 'Peggy' by the locals who saved her.

Whether legend or fact, standing out on the rocks smoothed by the ravages of time, I can't help but feel the pull of my conflicting emotions. Be it tears of joy for past survivors, tears of sadness for loves long since lost to the mighty Atlantic I know for some of us, Peggy's legend need only live on in our hearts to be true.

Trapped (conclusion)

She could hear but could not see him as she struggled through the ice that ran through her veins. If she could only get out, light from the lamp would illuminate her tormentor’s face once and for all, she thought, edging her way to the balcony door. It opened to the fresh smell of freedom.

Peering cautiously over the edge of the railing she wondered when her journey would come to an end. How many more times would she spend chasing shadows only to end  each night looking on as her body lie broken on the rocks below? Dreams were for the living, she knew, but when, oh when, would somebody find her so she could finally tell her story? Until she could tell of the man who pushed her over the edge, would she ever be able to rest in peace? 

The End
Happy Hallowe`en!

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Trapped (cont.)

It was sheer will that had her swallowing the scream that threatened to escape as metal on metal echoed within the lighthouse walls but sheer will alone could not prevent the pervading chill that enveloped her body. Seemingly with a will all their own, with perfect precision and speed such as she’d never known her feet possessed, up the curving staircase she unerringly ran.
A quick search as she entered the lantern room told her there was nowhere to hide but she took brief comfort that the only whisper of breath came from the blanket of fog that cloaked the room.
“Aye, and now you have come to me at last.”

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Vacationing in Nova Scotia

Our journey begins tomorrow morning at first light. Myself and my better half, two of our sons, and our one son's girlfriend will all be crammed into our Jeep Liberty for about a fourteen hour drive. Oh and let me not forget to mention that our border collie will be with us as well...riding in the back. What a ride it should be!

This trip will all be worthwhile as we are taking it to celebrate one of those monumental moments in a parents' life...our youngest son is getting married this Saturday. Throughout the next few days I will try to keep posting of our adventure.

Until then...happy reading!

Friday, October 1, 2010


Out of the night's darkness she approaches the lighthouse - the moon as its backdrop -  and drops to her knees at its door. The  hoot of an owl reaches her ears from somewhere nearby and with great hope to find sanctuary from the ghosts that chase her this night bravely she rises and turns the rickety, old handle to enter the dusty gloom. Deeply she breathes to settle nerves frayed by what she could only hope was a current, though unusual, flight of fancy.
 "I've been waiting for you, lass."  The stir of her hair told her that whisper of breath from out of the darkness was not her imagination. Slowly, slowly she turned to stare into the inky blackness behind her to once again be denied the vision of her tormentor. She never understood how your heart could race while your feet turned to lead, until this moment when the world around her turned in slow motion. Too slow to reach the door before the clicking of the lock, she was trapped.

To be continued...

Thursday, September 23, 2010

What else was I gonna do while sleep eluded me?

In the wee hours of the night, yet another one spent staring at the ceiling at 3 am, I got to thinking of all the things that cause insomnia and have convinced myself that most causes can be categorized into one (or a combination) of three categories. And have worked out a funny (somewhat) solution for all.

The first - not enough activity (mental and/or physical) in the daytime to make sleep possible.
Nothing a good fire lit under your butt, with a heaping helping of caffeine-related products, wouldn't cure!

The second - too much activity (mental and/or physical), sugar or caffeine late in the day.
Sitting around like a sloth at night in front of t.v. is okay (just don't think, snack on anything but veggies, or have caffeine - and yes, unfortunately this does mean chocolate). Bonus!?

The third - burning the candle at both ends.
This happens when your body and mind can't agree on which fire needs to be lit or extinguished.
Nothing a little TLC wouldn't cure in the right measures, at the right time. So you'll pardon me while I go make myself a pot of tea with a side of chocolate for breakfast.

...and if none of this works, talk to your doctor. After all, I'm just a writer trying to inject a little humour on what can be a frustrating situation.

Food for thought: Did our ancestors suffer insomnia? Somehow I doubt it with having to do everything the hard way - during daylight hours, spending quality family time by lamplight or moonlight when the day was over and falling into bed exhausted to prepare for a repeat the next day. Maybe it's time to stop fighting what our ancestors left us with...our Circadian rhythm?

Monday, September 20, 2010

What it means to be a writer

I'm a country girl at heart. I was born in Welland, Ontario (Canada) and raised nearby in the small town of Fenwick. 
Growing up in such peaceful surroundings, sheltered from the rest of the world, it was a sanctuary of sorts. At least it probably was for my parents. Me? I thought it was the most boring place in the world as a teenager. 
There was 'nothing to do' but use our imagination...and work in the garden.
I met my husband-to-be at the age of eighteen, at nineteen we married and moved away. For twenty-six years we moved around our great country but it wasn't until I turned thirty when my father passed away that I learned to appreciate the lessons I'd learned growing up in that 'boring little town'. 
That was the year my love for gardening was a tribute to him. A way, albeit a small one, to pass something Dad loved on to our children. It took longer for me to recognize my love of writing, my NEED to write. 
I'd spent a great deal of time as a kid writing poems, letters, whatever I was in need of at the time, without a thought then that it was something I HAD to do. I've always kept a journal (although I throw them out when I've filled one - who really wants their 'feelings' sitting around in books for someone else to read after we're gone?). Ideas for books would flit about in my head to be dismissed by my own negativity...after all, who was I to think I could write? 
As one by one my sons grew up, running their own lives, writing was what I turned to, to fill in the gaps, and I realize, at the age of fourty-eight, that writing is as much a part of me as breathing. My love of family will always come first, but my writing is a very close second and always will be whether or not I am ever a 'published' author...but getting published would be icing on the cake!

Friday, September 3, 2010


I can remember a time - not that many years ago - when learning to use chat lines and Facebook was daunting and scary territory. As with anything else in my life though, I embraced it, learned from it and conquered it. Now, there's not a day goes by when I'm not 'checking my news feed' or seeing 'who's online today'. And that brings me to my being here today...blogging.
I didn't think I would ever do it, and I must confess to feeling a little out of my league here, but, at the suggestion of some friends, I've now jumped on this bandwagon they call blogging.
Be it good or bad, here you will find a variety of poems, jokes and witticisms, with maybe a short story or non-fiction article or two thrown in and I do hope you will enjoy them.

"Reading makes the world go round."