Your Loss, pt. 11

1940's airport

The beginning of the story

One day in London turned into Petra and Robert replaying the good parts of Niagara Falls. The first two days were spent fasting, and nearly dehydrating, in their hotel room. On the third day Petra and Robert ventured out, finding their way to a restaurant, and then to a racetrack, somewhere Petra could place a bet. It could have been anywhere, but Robert did love the horses. They got his heart racing in a way that nothing else could with the exception of the roulette table. Petra went along with it without much to say. She could live without gambling for once– the entire escapade a gamble, whether they lived or died, together or alone.

Continue reading “Your Loss, pt. 11”


Your loss, pt 9


The beginning of the story

Petra and Robert were less than two hours in the air, but it felt like more. Petra had been nearly killed, but it didn’t cause her the personal agony the hours did while flying next to him. Robert was polite. He let her sit by the window. He stood when she needed to walk about the plane. He ordered her a drink. God knew they both needed one. He was insistent that this ‘talk’ they were going to have was not going to be in public. He was not going to be standing in front of the world while she removed the dagger from his gut that she had left there in Niagara Falls.

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Your Loss, pt. 2

noir street


part 1


Robert took Petra out every night that week. Wednesday he took her on a river boat ride. The water that was green during the day glimmered under moonlight. On Thursday they settled at a smoky club, claiming a corner table as theirs for hours. She talked about times before the war and reminisced. He looked into her eyes and got lost. On Friday he realized as evening was coming on that they had not made any plans. The evening loomed empty ahead of him and he stayed home with the cat and tinkered at the piano. About 9:30, the phone rang and he jumped up, catching it on the second ring.


“Robert, I need you. I need you please! Hurry!”

Continue reading “Your Loss, pt. 2”

Second Childhood

Marion heard David come into the apartment and waited for him to come into her room before speaking. She was 85, disease having taken its toll on her body while leaving her mind intact. David walked to the head of her bed. “How is it today, Mom?” It was their way of discussing her pain and energy levels without talking about sickness. She hated that.

“4. Maybe 4.5. I saw a robin on the windowsill.” She smiled and lifted her hand to him, the child of her middle age, nearly 50 when he was born. When she was widowed, he moved nearby, only too glad to live away from his ex, and the town where he never did get to start a family. “Today is the day. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready.” He dropped into the small chair and ran his hand over her hair, smoothing it back. He pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to go yet and leave you alone.”

“I’m not alone. The nurse will take care of me.” Her blue eyes looked as crystal clear as they did when he was a child, despite her dark eyelids and being ringed in red. David picked up a notebook and looked over her usual scrawl of equations. “You’re sure then?”

“Positive. The sun and earth won’t line up this way with the planets for another 25 years. You must get to the ley lines we discussed. It’s today or never.” She looked up at a painting of Stonehenge on the wall. “You have the location and all my maps. You will find me there. The window is tight, between when I became orphaned and when I was taken to the refugee camp. Promise me you won’t wait. Then I can run again. I’ll have my childhood again. This time with someone I trust.” Her eyes looked tired and they fluttered closed. She let go of his hand. “Go.” He kissed her forehead and left.

David approached Stonehenge with a photo of his mother from 1945 with trepidation. He was scared that she was wrong about the timing, and of what he would find. He was as afraid it would work as much as he feared letting his mother down. Quantum physics was her field, and he trusted her completely. He stepped into the space where he expected to find the portal and braced himself. He felt nothing, and no different than the moment previous. Taking another step, he looked around. He detected no real changes that the naked eye would notice without a close study of the stones; but, he followed her instructions, leaving there and traveling to the town where his grandparents had lost their lives. According to her calculations, he would arrive moments after Marion had left her hiding place to find food. The war had been over for days, but she hid as long as she could make the provisions last.

David started across the bridge. The town was bombed about, but there were no sounds of battle. Suddenly he saw a girl running her heart out, her heavy braid bouncing around and slapping her in the back. She stopped suddenly when she saw him. She looked behind her, then to him once more, where he blocked her path with his body. He smiled, then opened his arms, to show that he knew her without scaring her off.

“It’s okay, Marion. Don’t be afraid. I am here to take you home.”

Tantalizing Tuesday: Carole Lombard

Carole Lombard suit

Carole Lombard was stunning. Dazzling. Bombshell? Most assuredly.

Carole Lombard gown with streamers.jpg

According to some, she was the highest paid actress in the late 1930’s. But the film I keep coming back to, the one I want to see again is My Man Godfrey (1936) with William Powell. I was mesmerized. I fell in love for the hour and one half that she was on the screen. It wasn’t for her platinum blonde hair. It was for her eyes and her smile, and most notably, she made me laugh.

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Tantalizing Tuesday: Noël Coward, part 2


Last Tuesday we began looking into the life of Nöel Coward. He was born Nöel Peirce Coward in 1899 in Middlesex, England. His body of work is enormous. He was a playwright, composer, poet, painter, he wrote short stories, he sang, and he acted.

What piqued my interest when I first started watching Coward’s plays and films was the depth of human experience and interaction. There is much within a small space. He would give us a one act play, perhaps 30 minutes long, and manage to punch into it such depth of feeling that one would have expected from a longer piece. For example, in the play and subsequent film,The Astonished Heart, that we discussed in part 1, we follow the characters along a relatively normal scenario. Surely the setting of marriage and cheating on one’s spouse is not new, especially in Film Noir. But just when you are relaxing into this simple story that you have heard before, pow! He lays something devastating upon you, in a quick twist of plot. I am fascinated by this sort of writing. I have dabbled in it myself but not anywhere near what Coward accomplished.

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Tantalizing Tuesday: Noël Coward

Noël Coward. Always with the eyes, and that little raise of one eyebrow. He had such an expressive face. Today let’s give the boys their due in this Tantalizing Tuesday with a man that I only knew of as a playwright , then found out he was so much more. I would give my left ti…..big toe for an ounce of his talent.

Reviews are mixed about his singing voice, but no one can argue about his songwriting abilities. This song is still being covered over 80 years later.

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Was I dreaming

The morning is alien
was it a dream?
I slept in London in 1944
stumbling over broken up streets
past bombed-out houses

I woke in the Colosseum
surrounded by lions
blinking and unable to see
dust in my eyes hair mouth
roar of the crowd in my ears

the door leading back outside
opened up to Ethiopia–
the want and cares
of day to day existing
beating against cracked earth

I wandered until finding
a patch of green
and falling back to sleep
I woke up here this morning
the air alien
and frightening