Tag Archives: love

Opening Pandora Take 100

Maybe a scene later in the book, or maybe nothing at all.  😛 The joys of pantsing your way through a manuscript means you have no idea what’s happening, lol. Each chapter you write is like both you and the reader discovering your words for the first time.

“You know when you love someone to the point of the dissolution of your own skin, your body disappearing into the hallowed embrace of their arms, when their breath becomes the only thing keeping you from drowning, when their eyes are the only light you see guiding you from the darkness of your own soul, when you can’t imagine an existence without their smile, their laugh, their touch. And you know when that love gets severed from you like a limb torn from your body, ripped from your very sinew and bone, pulled apart and scattered like bitter carnage for the wolves of betrayal and misery to ravage and destroy.” I stared at Dr. Monroe, willing him to challenge me. I needed a fight. Someone to yell at, rail against. But he merely uncrossed and then crossed his legs and tapped his pencil against his chin, as his cool expresso eyes studied me.

I leaned back, the energy drained from me. “Well then, you’ll know what it was like to lose her.”

Rock and Car: A Breathtaking Tale of Extraordinary Love Against Impossible Odds

The following fanciful tale is based on a true story… a story that resulted in $1100 damage, a tow, and tears. No actual people were injured in the telling of this story.

Rock & Car

Once upon a time there was a rock. It was an old rock, long forgotten by those who tread near. Covered in moss and lichens, it had withstood the test of time. It spent its days content with its solitude, grounded in its security. It didn’t want for anything that mother nature couldn’t provide. It was an old soul, wise and watchful.

Once upon a time there was a car. It was a humble car, never racing or causing a fuss at stop signs and traffic lights. It whisked its owners from destination and back without asking for anything in return. It loved the feeling of its thick tires on the road, a blanket of dew on its windshield, and the heat of the afternoon sun on its hood. It was a cheerful soul, giving and playful.

Rock and Car were never meant to meet. So far apart, their worlds were separated by miles and purpose. But fate has a way of bringing the impossible into being. The strings of chance, merely a puppeteer’s magic, pulling circumstance and causality our way. And when opportunity finally ceded to fate’s siren song, Rock and Car were forever altered.

It was more than a glancing caress, more than a passing touch. Their impact shattered the quietude of dusk, the breathtaking collision sending shock waves through them both. Car’s thick tires lifted from the ground, sending tremors through its body, the sensation startling and unfamiliar. Rock’s visage, once impassive and aloof, transformed into deep grooves of connection and warmth. The two souls merged so completely only chains and pulleys could drag them apart.

But part they did. And when the time came to say goodbye, there was only a reverent silence, their gaze never wavering until the trees swallowed their sight.

Was it love or merely a transient fling? One can’t possibly say. But for a brief moment, Rock and Car had shared an impossible union, and in that flash of brilliance, life would never be the same.

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

 

How Do I Spice Up My Sex Life?

Conversations with the Goddess

Here is today’s Conversation with the Goddess:

Dear Goddess, how do I spice up my sex life?

W.M.

I am the Goddess of passion and desire. Let go of your fear. Be bold. Give your fantasies room to breathe and grow. Experiment. Your partner’s reaction will surprise you. There’s something you’ve been wanting to try for a while now. Go for it. You’ll both enjoy it. Don’t be afraid to play.

Goddess keep you,

MACHA

 

Good-bye

Goodbye: A short, short story by Marissa Campbell
Goodbye: A short, short story by Marissa Campbell

Raindrops glisten and plop, falling off glossy leaves. My boots shuffle, the dirt loose under foot. The shovel rests against a slender sapling in silent vigil. A smooth grey rock, streaked with veins of pink and white, placed with care—a reminder. The peony weeps velvet blossoms. The air is still, heavy with damp. The clouds mourn, mixing with my tears. Plop, plop. I clasp the worn collar in my hands, the leash limp hangs by the back door. Good-bye.

 

 

 

White Bristles

This is a free flow exercise I did recently during a writing retreat. The facilitator led us through a relaxation exercise followed by visualization.  The concept was to keep writing, keep the pen moving until time was up. This is the piece that resulted:

White Bristles, by Marissa Campbell
White Bristles, by Marissa Campbell

“Come sit on the bed, love,” she says.

I move closer, my bare feet on the carpet not making a sound. My pyjamas, a soft cotton, keeping the summer night’s cool air from making me shiver. The window open to the sound of crickets, a train whistles in the dark distance, the full moon brilliant in the ink sky. I sit on the bed.

She lifts my hair in her hands and begins to brush, the white bristles smoothing out my long blonde hair. She finds a tangle; her strokes slow, her attention gentle and light until the knot gives way, the strokes rhythmic once more.

I missed my grandma. She was closer to me than my mother, their home more comforting than my own. I would count the days until the weekend, until I could once again climb my trees, play in my garage, eat warm apple pie and get tucked into bed, the pink lava lamp globing and sinking, breaking and floating, its motion a lullaby, my grandmother’s words, ‘I love you,’ embracing me each night as I drifted off to sleep.

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

Buggie Blanket

Bumblebees and butterflies embroidered in even rows.

Soft yellow cotton soothes restless dreams.

Faded and frayed edges worn thin from little hands seeking reassurance.

He clutches it tight.

Slippered pyjamas pad softly down the hall.

Sleep well, my son.

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

Our Dance

Our Dance, a Poem by Marissa Campbell

Little patter of tiny feet.

I hear them in my mind.

A small inquiring face,

Appears gently by my side.

I can give no answers,

I only smile.

The pitter-pat returns,

To a bed growing cool.

He is restless tonight,

But I am here.

He waits patiently,

Puttering about his room,

Unable to commit to dreaming.

He knows I will come.

I listen out for dangers,

A mother’s ear posed and receptive,

But there is no worry,

Just a dance of familiarity,

Weaving in and out of time.

I rise and tuck him in.

A whisper of love and pride.

Sweet dreams now.

Our dance rests,

Until morn.