Have You Jumped? If so, are you falling or flying?

“Jump, and you will find out how to unfold your wings as you fall.”

-Ray Bradbury

***

This is my mind lately as I work on my WIP:

My wings have unfolded – I am getting the hang of gliding, my only worry is after landing will I be able to take off again and find my way through revisions… ;o)

I don’t know. But I DO know that I am excited to be someone who stepped off the ledge, throwing myself into an adventure that I will forever be changed by…

***

How about you…have you jumped? Are your wings out and are you discovering all there is to see with ease?

- Or -

Are you like me, sensing that flying is awesome, landing looks scary and the return trip might be a reason to invest in Dramamine?

Just remember:

“Aerodynamically, the bumblebee shouldn’t be able to fly; but the bumblebee doesn’t know it so it goes on flying anyway.”

-Mary Kay Ash

Don't forget to enter my To Kill A Mockingbird contest!

Have a Terrific Thursday!

A Contest & A Mockingbird....

They're certainly entitled to think that, and they're entitled to full respect for their opinions... but before I can live with other folks I've got to live with myself. The one thing that doesn't abide by majority rule is a person's conscience.

~Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird, Chapter 11, spoken by the character Atticus

A steep, treacherous cliff shoots down on the right side of the car. Inhaling I grip the seatbelt and lean towards the middle of the seat. I do not want to see the depth of the sheer dropoff if the car were to swerve ever so slightly, I do not want to think of the danger below. The curves wind as we journey towards Monroeville, as we head to shop at the Vanity Fair factory store and spend the day at the Pecan Festival. My tiny fingers grip the book in my lap, my eyes closed tight until we reach an area of flat road. I release the breath I did not realize I was holding and turn the page.

I continue reading, my nine year old brain accepting the words but bookmarking phrases to ask my mother. She drives carefully as the 45 minute drive to Monroeville comes to a close. I am excited to wander the vendors at the festival. I have new wicker furniture in my room and I want a few things to match the unicorn blanket on my daybed. The words "footwashing" Baptists brings me pause. This is a phrase I cannot just bookmark. My mind sees what a child would consider the definition to be and in my gut I know I am mistaken. That this will be a question for discussion at lunch. We plan to go to Radley's Deli - I LOVE their grilled cheese and root beer. The idea of a day with just me and my mother makes me grin.

The minutes fly by and we are soon at our destination. The festival wraps around the courthouse. The streets smell of kettle corn, hot dogs and cotton candy. Vendors talented with woodwork, paint brushes, quilting surround the brick building. Across the street at the light murals depicting scenes of Scout & Boo peeking around a tree and the subject of the book now laying on the seat of the car watch over the residents and visitors. The temperature is cool, an Alabama fall is magical and here where characters live and breath there is no comparison...

We window shop, we purchase, we laugh, we argue over the worth of a small pillow in the shape of a unicorn and whether or not I will finish the red candied apple that has stained my lips. Lunch comes quickly and with it the reminder of the phrase in the book. I ask my mother and she sighs. I read things well beyond my years she says and it becomes harder and harder for her to explain things to me. I tell her that I am a big girl, that I want to read everything! She laughs and begins to tell me not just what the phrase means but of the author, of the book and how there are pages yet to come when I may ask more questions.

She touches my hand and asks me a very important question: "Courtney, are you any more important than the waitress?" Standing near the cashier is a young woman. She appears to be much older (meaning in her late teens). At first I think how I am a princess (seriously I took this title pretty highly as a kid - not like I do now *wink*) but then I shake my head. She asks me what I see when I look at the young woman. I describe her clothes, her hair, even her smile, my mother grins when I remember the chocolate of her eyes, and how she's very nice because she gave me extra cherries for my root beer. I never once mentioned the dark brown of her skin.

My mother nods and does not speak at first. Then she tells me she loves me, that she is proud of me and that yes I am big now and that I will enjoy the book even more after I finish it. I blush forgetting the quiz only enjoying the praise. I do not realize yet what she is getting at and to be honest it is years later when the memory slams me in the gut.

She was in many ways testing me. Trying to see if I had somewhere in my few years learned of a horrible judgment, whether or not the story would be something I would cherish and love or something that I would find fault with its ending. She knew then how Atticus, Jem, Boo, & Scout lived amongst the pages, she knew of the themes threaded amidst the setting; how they could be construed - how some might think Atticus wrong or that things should have turned out differently for the characters. She was merely trying to settle her own mind about the way her daughter was being raised, about whether or not the lessons on loving people had seeped into my young heart and if I had let them take root.

For those of us in South Alabama, the story is as famous as any. Nelle Harper Lee wove a tale that speaks of the way things happened and how many people should have handled situations, how parents should talk with their children, listen to their children, have faith in their children and how the color of your skin does not tell the color of your heart. 50 years ago she wrote a story that still stands the test of time, that still resonates in any town, in any state, in any country. For me it is a story of great love, of courage, of conviction and of understanding. I often looked for Atticus in my own father & was ever more pleased to find even more traces of that wonderful character in the living breathing version who kissed me goodnight.

I love this book and have read it many times, each time discovering some snippet that I must tuck away, some dialogue that I must etch into memory. Nelle gave us a gift and every year the tiny town that neighbors my own celebrates it, even if she feels all the hub bub is a bit silly, I hope that Nelle realizes how much she molded my life and so many others...

So when I journey down there for the celebratory festival this year ( July 8 - 11, 2010 ) I will walk the square. remember the story, the day I made my mother smile and the lessons I have learned even since...

I think there's just one kind of folks. Folks.

~Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird, Chapter 23, spoken by the character Scout

***

So folks in honor of this marvelous novel I would like to give away a prize package...

You Must Comment on THIS Post

New Followers: +4

Old Followers: +6

Bonus Entries:

Tweet +3 (@southrnprincess)

Blog Post +3

Sidebar +3

For every new follower you send my way +5

Tally your points +1

Leave your email in this format clsbarr(at)yahoo(dot)com

PRIZE:

One copy of To Kill A Mockingbird (50th Anniversary edition)

by Nelle Harper Lee

The DVD version of To Kill a Mockingbird starring Gregory Peck

Sur-prize from the Monroeville County Heritage Museum

Open to US & Canada only...sorry Internationals ;o)

CONTEST ENDS JULY 28 at 11;59 CST

I will announce the winner on August 1st

(Harper Lee's birthday is April 28, so why not choose that numeric ;o)

Have a Fabulous Friday!

Wednesday's Written Word: Beloved + Love Letter Blogfest...

My Wednesday's Written Word has been taken over by loving thoughts for the literary characters who stole my heart years ago... Frankie came up with this idea in order to honor our literary loves the day ECLIPSE premiered. It is for some to showcase Jacob & Edward and for others to give light on their favorite literary loves.

The word for today is Beloved and it is for more than one man! *GASP* yes, I am in the love triangle (really a square) so commonly found within the pages of our books, so common that it is rare to ever select a book that does not have the now expected 3 hearts where one is meant to be broken no matter the odds or actions of the others...

Yet here in my Kingdom my heart is safe, my love intact and my dreams filled with thoughts of not two but three men (I mean my husband isn't fiction but come on my heart beats for the real life humorous character who fills my days as well as the ones who fill my dreams)...

***

My Dearest Professor Bhaer,

It is over tea, as we both dislike coffee, that I revel in your sweet demeanor and unique wit. Try as I might to avoid running into you on my daily walks, it appears that fate has still managed to direct my hands.

You at once recognized my inky fingers for the writer I have hidden. Your kindness knows no bounds and your patience unlike any other.

It is in your sweet smile that I blush and lose all train of thought. You care not that I forget my umbrella in the rain, or run sometimes through the fields forgetting my stature. Your counseling when I need help is something I treasure.

I will never let your love for learning, your excitement for teaching those children who would not have the opportunity and your ability to make me forget everything around me when I feel your hand in mine be taken for granted.

Thank you my beloved Fritz.

Your dearest Courtney

Professor Friedrich "Fritz" Bhaer - Little Women 1868; Jo's Boys 1886; Little Men 1871 by Louisa May Alcott ( I read Little Women every summer, it has been that way since I was nine. It remains one of my favorite stories and Louisa is one of my favorite classic authors.)

Dear Colin,

At first I was unsure as to why your presence unnerved me. Your dashing good looks and loner demeanor made me suspicious. My own haven had become habit and the fear of the unknown tried to hold me back. But it was the kind heart that you tried so hard to conceal that when discovered stole my own.

You gave me a new outlook, a realization that love can see past the physical qualities that we think mar us to relationships. Instead you embraced me. The me from the inside, the soul, the spirit that yearned to be understood and wanted desperately to be seen as stronger than even I thought I could be. You saw that. You saw me and I am forever grateful.

It is your love that steered me beyond certain prejudice and opened a young mind to the idea that anything is possible, mysteries can be solved and love can remain through the test of time. Our journey through myth, legend, trust, fidelity, past lives and reincarnation planted the steps needed for my current imagination to continue creating stories.

Thank you Colin. I will love you always...

Courtney

Colin McCallum- The Court of Three Sisters by Marianne Willman 1994 (This, like Little Women, is a book that my young hands read over and over and over again. The spine is worn down almost to nothing, the pages crinkled, it was a book more than likely considered a bit too old for my young mind but my heart understood every page. I still read it now at least once a year. It holds the adventure, the romance, the paranormal, the unbelievable story line that has since inspired many of my own works.)

So please visit the other Love Letters and discover new dashingly delicious hunks/ladies to haunt your dreams...

Have A Wishful Wednesday!

For other blogfest entries and other Wednesday's Written Word entries please visit my Original Works page.

Monday Memos.... Experience

"If you will call your troubles experiences and remember that every experience develops some latent force within you, you will grow vigorous and happy, however adverse your circumstances may seem to be..."

-John Heywood

***

Experience - the conscious events that make up an individual life; something personally encountered, undergone, or lived through (definition - courtesy of dicionary.com)

Experience is a word that crops up everywhere in life.

To get the good job they want experience.

To understand the value of friendship it takes an experience shared.

To write a great story they say write from experience.

To truly know sorrow we experience loss.

To truly know happiness we experience love.

Which experience? Which set of events do we catalogue as experience?... All of them.

Life is a collection of obstacles, of dreams, of needs, of wants, of desires all culminating into one experience. How could we call life anything but wonderful? It is the journey & the result. It is both beginning and end.

Experience should never be looked at negatively. It should always be positive.

The traffic jam is a time to think about the day's agenda or to reflect on the shared moments from the night before.

The years spent in an office, toiling away at charts and reports should be seen as character building and a lesson in how not to or how to treat those around us.

The days spent washing clothes, cleaning house, aiding with homework, laughing out loud, shedding tears and wiping noses should be acknowledged as an empowering experience- as touching the life of your family & being touched by their love in return.

These are all experiences that crop up in books. We reach for the shelves searching for someone who has written about experiences we relate to or those that we only dream about. Every page offers one more bullet on our life resume. Though we are reading and vicariously living through a character we are experiencing the emotions all the same.

So keep collecting things to list. Even when it seems that the experience is one that does not make you smile immediately. Remember that those experiences are the ones where we learn so much about ourselves...they are the cherished ones that show our inherent characteristics...

***

Experience the blogosphere...

Elle asks why you put a book down? (or don't?)

Elana asks What Makes a Good Writer?

Raquel has a great list of upcoming Blogfests! Check it out!

Congrats are in order for Carrie Harris! Her Book Bad Taste in Boys has a release date! Yep! Scoot over and don't run scared from the Richard Simmons photos!

MaryBeth poses the ultimate question: Why don't they have Summer Reading Program for Adults?

Sara is giving away

SISTERS RED & The Tension of Opposites ends 7-4-2010 hurry go enter!

Win the Truth Teller's Tale by Sharon Shinn over on Jennifer's site! She has 500 followers - CONGRATS JENNIFER!!

Have a Magnificent Monday!

*Yes I was MIA all last week...I plan to do a post about that tomorrow - crazy experiences in my household lately but I am truly cherishing these... ;o)

Monday Memos!

Family...a group experience of love and support.

-Marianne Williamson

***

There are books, there are movies, there are poems, there are songs that tell us what a family is. None of them the same, none of them wrong - all of them can be right.

When I sit down to work on a project, family is something that inadvertently creeps in. I don't always recognize the familial relationships at first but then as the characters develop they become more apparent. They sneak into the friendship between a hero and a victim. They wrap around the one destined to save them all and they surprise the one who lost his/her faith in humanity. I see it between characters who society would say are too young to grasp the meaning and between older characters who had all but given up on connecting with someone else. The feeling of family is something that I cannot help but pepper into my work.

I am blessed to have two loving parents who support every avenue I want to take. My love of reading, writing and art is because they always let me know they would be beside me no matter my direction. They told me when something I created was good, when it was okay and when it was something they did not connect with. It was never bad because they taught me that so long as I am creating, putting my heart into my work then the end result is something to be proud of. It may still be something that needs work, could be improved or might be shelved; but it was worth it because I loved it at that time.

Family does that. We help each other, we call the bluffs - yet we are there when the wall crumbles down, we stand our ground, we give, we take, we endure the times when the page is blank and we feel alone but we know we are not.

My Royal Court on the right hand sidebar are people I go to when I need advice, when I need help, or when I just need to smile. There are people who are not listed over there that visit my site and provide the same support.

Each one is a member of my family:

I have a Wolfpack Leader who makes me grin every time I see her, especially if the Tiger got in the bathroom again...

A girl who feels that "shame" comes in the form of Vlogging or in a story about a gameshow...(we will find that video one day!).

A picture book author who has a knack for finding the perfect quote every day and seems to keep a permanent smile on her face while constantly dreaming of books.

A man who can spout Frost, Hemingway or Woolf - knows classical music like the back of his hand - enjoys great Vodka, writes stirring flash fiction and has a heart of gold when referencing his own immediate family.

There are bloggers who share my love of Disney, who know why Crimson & White are my favorite fall colors, who are Royalty as well, who can teach me line editing, who help with my POV. So many people who I consider family. Who I mourn with when they lose someone, who I laugh with when sharing a joke, who I cry with when they need me, who I offer support when I can.

You all make my writing better. You all make me better.

Thank you for being such a great family and for providing a Southern girl a taste of the world through the keys on a keyboard and the wonderful idea that one day, one day, I may get to meet you all. What a reunion we would have...

***

Some family updates...

Let Talli know what you think of Something Old...Something New... it looks great to me!

WhatWord Trick do you like? Don't know well go see Shannon O' for her take...

I think Shannon M. is trying to have as many contests as possible...and I love her for it! Go enter to win Lisa Mantchev goodies!

Simon reflects on the mind of a teenager experiencing the power of Frost and his current state of mind when re-reading a classic....check it out - it will move you, I promise.

Karen tells you togive up on her...but I won't and I know you won't either ;o)

Natalie asks: Book reviews? Love them or hate them...

Please note that on my left sidebar are my blogrolls... There are a ton of blogs worth checking out so if you get a moment, scroll through, add one to the list above and introduce yourself to my family. I promise we won't bite... unless of course you wander over to one of the horror writers...can't promise anything there!

Have a Marvelous Monday!

My Hero...

A father is always making his baby into a little woman.

And when she is a woman he turns her back again...

-Enid Bagnold

***

He is my hero.

He is my friend.

He is my father.

I thank God for him every day.

Happy Father's Day!

Besides doesn't he have the best smile?

Love you dad...

Breaking the Rules Blogfest!

The wonderful Elizabeth Mueller is hosting a blogfest focused on the rules...well actually focused on breaking the rules...

Yep this is no ordinary blogfest. She has asked us to post something from before we understood certain rules to fiction (course I still like to break a few, like, completely, absolutely break some.. love me some adverbs; seriously ;o) ) Please enjoy a snippet from a story I wrote in the 5th grade (1992)...yep... went into the basement and selected a few journals to peruse. I used to love to buy blank journals and write my own 'novels' in them...my friends & family thought it was so cool. In a way this post is in honor of their support. I would not be blogging today or working towards publication if it weren't for all the rule breaking writing I used to do.

So visit the other bloggers participating here and go find some writing of your own before you became aware of punctuation, adverbs and structure - you may even discover a character or two that you still love!

***

A breeze lightly touched Anastasia's skin as she walked through the courtyard. Her morning ride on her favorite horse, Whispers, was what she looked forward to every day. She hastened her steps and soon reached the stables.

Quietly she clucked her tongue and to her delight a soft whinny called from one of the stalls. Whispers always answered her with a soft, loving whinny then eagerly would nudge her pockets for a piece of apple or sugar.

"Oh, you've gotten smart. Now you know exactly where your treats are." Anastasia said teasingly.

Quickly she lead Whispers out of her stall, warmed her up with a short walk then adjusted the tack.

By quickly mounting, she eased into the saddle. The two began a brisk walk, then began a full gallop towards the woods. As she neared the trail, Anastasia noticed a small blue scarf-like object on one of the branches of a nearby oak tree. She picked it up, thinking perhaps she would find the owner.

The familiar trail wound around an area of land that opened to a large meadow that was beside a brisk, flowing stream. Whispers knew the trail by heart, so Anastasia slowly slackened the reins and let her go.

Soon the two were at the stream. Beautiful daisies, buttercups, and any other such wildflowers grew bountiful in the meadow along the stream. This was the one place Anastasia relaxed at.

Bringing Whispers to a halt, Anastasia dismounted and slipped out of her boots. Tying Whispers to a nearby tree so she could obtain water freely.

Suddenly the sound of hooves pounding the ground was heard. Curious, Anastasia began to look and see who it was. Worry began to seep into her body. The land she was on was private property. Owned solely by her father, a well-known nobleman.

Fearing that some hunters might have gotten on the land she quickly untied Whispers and led her to a busy area where the two could be concealed. Another frightening thought struck Anastasia, thieves sometimes used thick forests to hide out.

The pounding of the hooves got louder as the horses got closer and closer. Now Anastasia was positive of the fact that there were many horses headed her way.

Anastasia's heart was pounding like a drum against her chest, as the first equestrian appeared before her.

A man of around mid-thirties with red hair and beard, rough looking as of a seaman from the wharfs. Another equestrian of early forties, with a deep brown complexion, short and stocky. The two dismounted beside the stream and before the two conversed, they drank from the stream.

Eager to learn what the two were doing, Anastasia crept quietly towards them.

"Well, Jameson, looks as though we came in undetected," said the red haired man.

"Sure did Curland. Maybe the old guy who owns this land doesn't visit here often." replied Jameson.

"I've heard he's exceedingly wealthy. A nobleman, he is. Oh well, I'm sure the lout will allow us to rest." Curland informed Jameson.

"By the way Curland where are the others?" Jameson asked in an impatient tone."They've got the loot. If they backed out, I'll have their heads!"

"They didn't back out. They know they won't get paid without us." Curland said laughing.

The two stopped talking to get another drink of water. As they were finishing four young men on horseback appeared.

"Well, well, hello!" one young man of his early twenties said to Jameson and Curland.

Anastasia was struck by his good looks. Tall, gallant, muscular, not the type to be a common thief at all! At least not to Anastasia's knowledge. They were always rough, unattractive and burly, like Curland.

"Why, Brontein, didn't know you'd joined our brigade." Curland said sarcastically.

"Well, I just thought joining your little venture might create an interesting time."

"We best be going anyway you two, we'll return tomorrow." Jameson said to Curland and Brontein as he remounted.

Curland, Jameson, and Brontein rode away from the stream.

Anastasia crept quietly out of hiding. Now being able to breathe normally she led Whispers out of the bushes. She kissed her on the nose and said thank you. It amazed her that the horse had remained quiet.

She decided to walk Whispers a little ways on the way home. But she then decided against it. She was too curious as to where the thieves came from. The one called Brontein was still fresh in her memory. His lips, the way his deep blue eyes danced, his muscles. The blue tantalizing eyes played over and over in her mind.

"Augh! I don't even know him! He's a thief!" she reasoned with herself."Just forget him."

She walked towards the area Brontein had gone, a nagging instinct told her to leave. But womanly curiosity urged her forward.

Right then a twig cracked behind her.

Before she could blink the young Brontein was in front of her.

***

Yep. Forgive my young love of big words and handsome men. lol I hope you enjoyed this - I got a good chuckle typing it exactly as I wrote it. The urge to correct, erase, and burn was deep. My love for my 11 year old self is too great, so it is EXACTLY copied from the book. What I do think is interesting is that even now there are some descriptive aspects that I still love to do when writing, even when the rule is against it. Dang my stubborn streak - I need to work on that.

This is just a small portion of the journals I still have - goodness knows how many total there are. This snippet is from the tan DaVinci covered one-far right.

Don't forget to visit the other bloggers participating here

***

Have a Fabulous Friday!

Wednesday's Written Word (on a Thursday): Xeric

Back to the routine, he looks at me...

I nod, gesture to the bowl...

The slips are few, only 1o lay waiting...

He unfolds one, grins....

Xeric

I will kill him later...

***

Hard, red earth crackled below my feet. Beads of sweat dripped down my forehead, lingering only at my chin before splashing against my chest.

Why in God's name would anyone live here? Too damn hot!

My foot connected with a small rock on the ground and I watched it tumble beneath the prickles of a cactus plant. Splotches of red dirt covered my new white flats.

Six hours I had been walking around.

Six hours staring at shades of orange, red, and green.

Six hours - one big circle.

Of course the car breaks down in no-where-Arizona. Why on earth would I expect it to break down in sunny LA? Oh no! God's sense of humor is definitely at work today.

The lone bottle of water in my pack had been gone for four hours. The lilac and honey scented makeup remover cloths (not so tasty by the way) had dried out an hour ago and the concept that cacti are easy to extract water from had died fifty six seconds before being pricked.

I love that my GPS system - "Guaranteed to work anywhere - we have the strongest signal!" yeah right salesman - lost signal the minute I took that last turn. Serves me right, this trip was a stupid idea anyway.

My father wanted me to finish school at Brown. I wanted to see the world.

Well so far the world has made you bleed, sweat in places you failed to know you had sweat glands and jam a toe while kicking the tires on a lovely Land Rover. Outback vehicle! PSH! More like out of gas, out of service and out of its mind vehicle!

Thank goodness the sun was going down.

I had not realized that exploring the Arizona desert was going to be like leaving the country. There had been road maps, hiking trail guides - not that I would ever hike purposely - and Discover the Wild West! booklets at every convenience store. It would have been more convenient had they said: "Stay away - you will get lost city girl - the desert is really one giant dust bowl - go shopping instead."

For six hours I had walked around. Well for three hours I truly had walked a circle, then I realized that I needed to walk away from the car to find help. Yeah took three hours to nail down that I really needed help - go figure.

Father would laugh at this. He would tell me I was ridiculous and that in an hour he could have a helicopter scoop me up to bring me home. Only this time I wasn't going to call for help - as if the cell phone had not been dead already this morning.

I really thought I plugged it in last night.

I can only imagine my father's face when he gets the call that I missed my morning classes. The last time he had taken away the credit cards. Too bad I've known those numbers since I was nine. He was furious when he discovered that I had charged a month's stay in Paris - but never went. I hope that couple had a great time. They were so in love and such nice neighbors.

What were their names? Hmmm... oh well it doesn't matter.

This time I had cashed in some bonds and empty the account he kept for me. Now the money was hidden beneath the backseat of the car - just waiting for me to spend it all. He had always said that money was the answer to any problem in life. That it can write the book or erase the words.

Well, daddy too bad it could not erase six wives, two jealous step-brothers and the fact that your only biological daughter rebels at every rule you set. Money hasn't fixed that yet, has it?

Perhaps it would be different if I would not have realized that my own father values me less than his own income. Sending me to a boarding school because wife number five felt that living with a teenage girl would make her age faster!

My laughter echoed among the barren land in front of me; the only sound to accompany the jingle of my car keys against my leg. Oh she had not aged faster but she'd divorced quickly when she caught him with a woman half her own age!

The Gucci sunglasses hanging from my now stretched tank top slid to the ground. I bent down to pick them up and saw a beer bottle in the dirt. That's odd. It is the first piece of trash I have encountered. Straightening I began to survey the area I had been walking. The sun was setting and a light darkness had begun to descend on the dry ground.

Thoughts of my father had distracted me from my surroundings. The cacti, the sporatic long grass, the xeric flora was still around me but it appeared to also show signs of human activity.

Focusing I began to listen for signs of a highway. Instead I heard a coyote howl and what appeared to be music; faint and in the distance.

MUSIC! Yes! Okay where is it coming from?

Quickly I stepped to my left and followed the sounds. As the music grew louder so did laughter. At first I paused to make sure I was not laughing.

Desert sun really does make you crazy!

Stepping around the various cacti I started moving faster. The ground was hard in spots and slippery in others; the sandy earth was killing my calves with every step. The terrain shifted and I found myself climbing a crimson hill, dodging rock and weed with each foot closer to the sounds. Finally reaching the peak I froze.

Below me, only two hundred yards was a ranch style building. Lights surrounded a large pool, music drifted from a stone patio. I could see people mingling and hear their laughter. To the south of the building I saw more smaller buildings, each built in the same Mission style. I could not see a road but I did see an area designated for cars.

A few young woman carried trays amongst the group laden with glasses and what I assumed was food.

What on earth? Wait - is that margaritas? OH THANK YOU GOD!

Stumbling forward I began to head towards the crowd.

I passed underneath a light fixture and an alarm began to blare. The sound startled me and I tumbled forward the last few feet, landing beside a wall. My back slammed against the dirt and I hollered out.

"Over there! I just heard something!"

The music stopped playing and the alarm was turned off. I could hear footsteps as I began to get back to my feet.

Just as I straightened up a bright light was shone in my eyes.

"Hold still! Who are you?"

Raising my arms I closed my eyes to the bright light.

"Lucidia Grayson Calhoun - from Manhattan. My car broke down, like so far away from here and I have been trying to find someone. Please, dude, drop the light - its killing me."

The light maniac chuckled and lowered his flashlight. I assumed I must look harmless - but also like a tumbleweed.

"Welcome to Heaven' Agua Seca, Lucidia from Manhattan. I apologize for the alarm, we set them at night so that our guests feel safer. "

I caught the word heaven and again wondered whether or not the sun from today had gone to my head.

A warm hand grasped mine and I looked at deep brown eyes peeking beneath dark black hair. He was built like a swimmer and boy did I want to see him in a swimsuit.

"I am Cosa. Owner and manager of the spa. Welcome. Let's get you inside and we can help you contact someone for your car. 'K?"

Holy crap he's cute.

"Um, did you say spa?"

His grin grew and I watched as he assessed my dirt laden clothes. He paused at the Gucci sunglasses and the emerald ring on my right hand. He was no idiot.

"Yes, we are happy to offer you accommodations if you like?"

He led me to the front of the building, passing people all along the way. Everyone looked concerned until the music started again and the party continued. Two guys at the bar looked me up and down as I passed then grinned as they downed two shots.

"Sir, what are your rates?"

"Ma'am, for a standard room nine hundred per night. For a suite, two thousand - it does include all our services when you stay in a suite."

"Two suites, please, adjoining. I like my space. Oh and give me double the services - I've had a long day."

"Do you have a credit card you would like to use?"

The giggle bubbled out and I began to recite the numbers to my favorite American Express card.

Oh daddy! So sorry you could not come on this vacation either....

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(Feel Free to visit past entries via the Original Works page at the top of the blog or the right sidebar menu - How WWW works: these are written on the spot with a time limit of 45 minutes - no word limit. Each word is drawn from a bowl where the 26 letters of the alphabet are represented by words selected by my husband. I have no idea what words are in the bowl nor which ones will be pulled out each week. I use this as a great 'interruption' from my current work in progress to keep my creative juices flowing & to not get bogged down with current major projects)

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Have a Toe Tapping Thursday...