Raimundo Arruda Sobrinho - Homeless Man's Dreams Come True

Buenas Dias!

Yesterday I came across this tweet & felt immediately compelled to read the post attached. 

This will inspire you to never give up on your dream to publish your work: https://t.co/70rx9xbyKb #amwriting... by @lorettamilan

— William Scott (@TheCuredRebirth) September 5, 2016

What a touching & inspirational story! I couldn't wait to share it with y'all.
This is a MUST Read for those working towards their dreams.

Meet Raimundo Arruda Sobrinho

This #TravelTuesday I want to you journey with me to São Paulo, Brazil.

Born 1 August 1938, Raimundo worked as a gardener & bookseller. However, in the late 1970s, early 1980s, nearly at the end of the military dictatorship of Brazil, he became homeless.



Raimundo Arruda Sobrinho lived in anonymity for 35 long years, just one more faceless member of the thousands of people that make up Brazil's homeless population. Every day, he gathered whatever paper he could and honed his skills as a poet and philosopher. He sat in the same spot every day, his "island" as he called it, and every day people walked by without giving him a second thought. To the world, he was just one more dirty old homeless man occupying the streets.

It only takes One. One person. One encounter. One conversation.

Raimundo's wildest dreams was that maybe his words would be remembered one day, maybe they might be published, but he knew deep down that they would probably never be read by anyone at all. Then, one day, in the spring of 2011, something happened that changed his life forever.

A young woman named Shalla Monteiro took notice of him and befriended the old man. She would stop by every day to chit chat with him, and one day Raimundo gave her one of his poems. She decided to make him a Facebook page so his poems and stories could be shared with others. What happened next is a miracle. Watch the video below to learn more.

The Conditioned or #Incondicional  tells the amazing story & friendship of Shalla & Raimundo. It's now available on Amazon for purchase (Portuguese Edition)
You can also read the First Chapter Here, English Translated.

The power of connection. It could be as simple as pausing to chat with that person on the other side of the room. Or sending an encouraging text to a family member. Or introducing a friend to a fellow colleague.

We never know the ripple effect as we create points of association between ourselves and others. The world isn’t as separate as we imagine it to be.

So why not take the time to hear each other’s stories? And even champion each other’s dreams? Who knows–the doors we unlock for others may just swing wide open to usher us into our own destinies.

"They say that when the disciple is ready, he is the master."


Thanks Oprah Winfrey for posting our story at The Huffington Post!!

Man Homeless For 35 Years Reunites With His Family, Thanks To A Stranger’s Kindness

No longer homeless, Raimundo was able to take his poetry to the next level, with Monteiro’s help: His book of poetry, #Inconditional, was published in December of 2015. 

One of Sobrinho’s own pieces of poetry beautifully sums up the power of his story.

© Enricoh Alfonzo ~ Alfonzo Words

• I’d love to keep connected with you! 

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~Be Kind to One Another~ Ellen Degeneres

The Fairy Tale Adventures of Princess Kitara

Once upon a time. In a land far, far away. Far from the eyes of mortal men, lived the most 
beautiful Fairy Queen the Fae Kingdom had seen in a many a moon. Stories of Queen Shakira spread far and wide, stretching to the very edges of the Fae Kingdom. She was known for her incredible passion and grace, neigh a fairy in all of creation had ever been known to be as inspiring as she was to her kinsfolk.

Princess Kitara

Chirp-chirp, chirp-chirp, the morning chimes pierced into the very recesses of my mind to gently wake me from my slumber. I yawned very ungracefully, ruffled my hair more and finally got out of bed, stretching my wings ever so far. With a sluggish movement, I hovered to the balcony doors and with a deep breath, I pulled them open. I closed my eyes and smiled as the morning sun and scent
enveloped my senses. 

With a start, I caught myself and realized I had now hovered just over the balcony’s borders. I laughed, a triumphant laugh, today was the day. My 321st birthday, I was finally going to do it. For as long as I could remember, the only thing I had ever wanted in this world was to go on a great adventure, the kind that legends are made of, the kind that was both exciting and dangerous. Ever since I was little, I was taken to see every inch of Faeora, every kind of fairy and every moon since. Of course, the expeditions were planned by my mother, the Queen so the Fae Knights were always around me, suffocating my every move.

It was almost as if mother had tied them with an invisible tether to me. Knowing her, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least.

There was a soft knock on the door, three taps. Hoorah! It had finally arrived; I opened the door carefully and looked around nothing. Hmm, that’s odd, something pulled on my gown.

I looked down to find the tiniest and most adorable fairy girl. “Uhm excuse me miss, the master asked me to gives this to you. Uhm please don’t tells him I’m late, I like sweets you sees and well I uhm got distracted by somes.”

The way in which she talked was funny enough but looking into those big brown button eyes, how could I refuse such an honest request. “Of course, I will not (for one thing I had no idea who the master was), kindly convey my sincerest thank you to the master. And here you go.” I handed her a gold coin, “Go get distracted by a few more sweets from me, ok sweety.”

She skipped away with a large smile on her freckled face.

In truth, I really couldn’t wait to open the package. Years of befriending the right Fairies, and subtle hints, and of tiptoeing around the topic had finally yielded results. I carefully opened the package and in it, was surprisingly only two pages. I skeptically opened the first one with a frown. It was a letter from the ‘Master’.

“Dearest Kitty Kat.” (obviously a ridiculous attempt at obscuring my identity)

I venture not to think why any fairy would request such a ‘thing’ from me. However, be that as it may you once saved my favorite flower from a hardship and that I can never repay. However, consider this my attempt at such. The second piece of paper is a map to what you are looking for. Please do remember the following rules, as not doing so will most likely get you killed or worse (what was worse than being killed?):

The 1st and most important rule, do NOT fall in love with a mortal.

The 2nd and most important rule, do Not trust anyone especially those that claim to be Fae.

The 3rd and most impo-"

The rest of the letter was burnt off, hmmm that’s weird and why was every one of his rules the most important ones. But that was soon forgotten as I opened up the map, “I cannot believe it.”

It was in a place I had visited constantly but never thought to look. The bath and dress up was a breeze with magic, with a wiggle of my index finger, it was done. I grabbed my already prepared travel sack, which I disguised as a tiny ruby red ring to go on that very same index finger. Just as I was about to leave, an invisible hand stayed me. Sigh, thinking back to that day only a few days ago……

Kitara had just entered the dining hall to find her mother dearest at the window at the very end of the hall. Mother stood poised and direct, as a Queen should, most regal in her rule. With her dark and languid black hair, and piercing green eyes. Kitara would have been the splitting image of her mother had it not been for her father, The King’s icy blue eyes and deep dimples. She tried to remember a time when her mother was full of smiles and warmth; it seemed like eons upon eons ago, so much so that the memories almost seemed fake. No, the mother she knew, the mother she had come to know could never have been such a mother. 

It must have been memories Kitara had made up in her head to compensate for such happenstance. Although Kitara knew what had changed her, it was a story she had been told by almost everyone in the kingdom no one more so than by her Mother. It was the day her Mother had lost everything. You see a Fairy’s wings were her very soul and according to legend, her Mother’s wings were the most magnificent in its beauty. 

It was the day she had lost her wings and the day she had lost the King, her husband and Kitara’s father to a human hunter. According to legend, he was the only mortal to ever enter Faeora and on that day tragedy struck the Kingdom. Leaving her kinsfolk with a very healthy and pretty endless fear of the mortal world. Ever since then, Mother has been on a tireless campaign to ensure Kitara was never hurt or harmed in any way. She increased the Fae Knightship tenfold and ensured a detail of 7 Fae Knightship at all rotatable hours of any given day. They were called the Galicia and were comprised of the most heroic and stoic warriors in all the land. Sometimes you would only need those 7 to win a war and yet now they were stuck babysitting the already over-protected princess. Kitara approached her Mother reservedly, nervously fidgeting with her morning dress.

“Mother.” She bowed.

“You’re 7 minutes late Kitara, I would have taught you by now that a Queen is never late only ever early, would I not?” Her mother replied still looking out that damned window.

Kitara knew better than to retort. “Yes Mother, I am very sorry Mother.”

“Come, we will have breakfast quickly as your day is scheduled with many an endeavor.”

They sat in tensioned quiet, her mother very delicately eating while Kitara hadn’t the stomach for this morning’s scones with picanut fillings. She took a deep breath and said, “Mother, my 321st birthday is next week and you promised I would get to go on an adventure outside the Kingdo-“

A fist slammed on the table. The Queen regained her composure yet fire still burned in her eyes. “I promised you no such thing young one. You are my daughter and as such you have obligations to your kinsfolk before any such meaningless and immature adventures.” This time, she sighed and with gentler eyes said, “My dearest Kitara please do not start this again, I am only doing what a Mother must to protect her daughter. Her daughter whom she loves very much. But such a love comes with conditions; I could not bear to lose you too. Maybe in a few years or so.”

Now it was Kitara’s turn to fume, “You did not promise? You did not promise? You do exactly the same thing every time Mother; you try to guilt me with Father’s passing. I am not him nor you, I am but both of you. I want to go on an adventure! You’re not fair at all! Argggh.” She stormed off to her room vowing to follow her dream even if it meant disobeying her Mother, the Queen.

I was jolted back into the present by Sebastian, my dearest friend, and a changeling. Meaning he could transfigure into anything he so desired, his favorite form of which was a sea blue feathered sparrow.

~You best get a move on princess, we haven’t the time for regret~ he said through telepathy.

Of course, he could talk but it was his own private joke to talk into my head like we shared a secret. My ring got heavier the further away from the castle I became; it was as if a weight was on my shoulders. However my excitement at the adventure to come far outweighed my guilt. 

~Shh, you’re thinking too loud. We’re here.~

I paused at the giant white oak tree, the very tree I had spent many a day reading and sleeping under. According to the map, this was the spot, a keyword was labeled next to it “Aspermortantium.” She read aloud, suddenly the ground started to shudder and a wide arc opened at the base of the colossal tree. I looked around and with one final glance at the castle in the distance, slipped into the unknown.

Queen Shakira

Shakira stood at the very same window she had become accustomed to for the past three hundred and twenty years. It was at this very window that she had seen what had irrevocably changed her life forever. Lord Barathus, how she hated fighting with Kitara but if she didn’t be so firm, the girl would be frolicking with Mountain trolls! Such an adventurous spirit, which she cursed because it came from her. Yet she did not realize just how important she was, how vital her survival was for the Kingdom. You see Shakira was losing her Magical essence and would soon be very much mortal, ever since losing her wings the magic has been seeping out of her slowly but surely. Soon she would be no longer the Queen of Faeora, just another faceless mortal doomed to suffering and disgrace. She needed to make sure Kitara was read-

Something caught her eye; it was Kitara’s eye! At the very topmost hill with the great White oak tree. The portal had been opened! However did she?! “Captain Verhad! Captain Verhad!!!” Shouting at the top of her lungs.

The captain and a squadron of Fae knights stormed the dining hall with murderous purpose. “What is it my queen”, asked the captain.

Shakira turned her cheek to the window to avoid giving away any further concern. “I said Captain Verhad, had I not?” She waited for the footsteps to die out before turning to the Captain, fool of worry in her face. Tears now streaked her perfect face, “Kitara has found the portal!! I do not know how but whoever told her will be severely punished. You MUST go after her, I would go to but only true Fae or Mortal may pass through and since I am neither I will only hinder you by such trivialities. Please captain, save my one true daughter.” The captain was out the hall without another word, he had already staked his life on protecting her many years ago, there was no need for a remittance. Oh Lord Barathus, please do not let her know the same pain that she did all those many years ago.

Johnny Padelaki

Man, I hate this shop, I hate the smell, I hate the books, I hate my grandfather for making me work here and I hate my father for letting him make me work here. It was an antique for Christ sakes, nobody hardly ever came to an antique bookstore to buy a book, why, when you can read the latest game of thrones novel at exclusive books. Arrggggh it was so suffocating.

For as long as I can remember I have always wanted to go on an adventure and as soon as I get my Anthropology and archeology degree, I am as good as gone from this squeaky old place. I could almost hear my rackety old grandpa now, “Young man, this shop has been in our family for generations. Why my father owned it and his father before him and his father’s father and his father’s father’s father. It is on sacred ground and must be preserved.” Sigh, I hated to disappoint the old man but I needed to get out of here and live my life. I was so going get a job at the archeology society of great London and volunteer for any and every expedition there was.

Crash!!!! A loud thud followed by what sounded like a mountain of books falling (yes it had happened before unsurprisingly in this heap of tattered old books). I followed the sound to the study in the back, noticing that the books had fallen to reveal a long forgotten family heirloom. The Mirror was something he was told to never ever touch. Oh well, I only had two more days before graduation, what could one-touch do. Although it felt like an uncontrollable urge, like a gravitational pull. As my fingers roamed the ceremonial engravings on the frame, it started to warm up to the touch. A force knocked me off my feet and into a shelf. I came to at the smell of lilies, my vision blurred but my curiosity of that heavenly scent pulled me forward. I blinked several times before I saw her clearly. I girl who looked no older than I did, was lying on the ground unconscious from my observations. Dark black her and the kind of beauty that would make a man’s, this man’s heart stop beating. She opened her eyelids and from them the most dazzling eyes he had ever seen.

They were a piercing blue with flakes of green, no almost whitish blue in them. It was almost as if they were dancing in her irises. I am left speechless, even as a puzzled frown formed on her beautiful face as she looked around taking in her surroundings. Wait, what the hell was going on, there is no way just no way had she come out of the Mirror right? Right? No that’s absurd.

“Good day kind sir. Forgive me but I seem to be out of sorts. Is this what is called the Earthen lands? Ouch, it seems I have hurt one of my wings, no matter it will heal shortly”.

Now it was my turned to do the puzzled frown although I imagine I looked quite foolish to this goddess from the Mirror. From a frickkin mirror? Things like this can’t just happen. “Earthen Lands? If you mean Earth, then yes. Wings? I’m sorry but what wings?”

Now it was her turn to frown again, she glanced behind her back and so did I. “Do you not see them?” I shook my head. “-hmm that is most peculiar. I am princess Kitara, daughter of Queen Shakira, protector and savior to all the Fae, successor to the throne and protected by the Galicia. And who might you be kind sir?”

I blinked a few times trying to remember and understand that. “I’m Johnny Pedalaki and uhm no title,” I said nervously hoping I didn’t have soot all over my face from the explosion or whatever it was that brought this girl into my life.

The front door was pushed open with such force that the bell on it rang then broke, then fell to the floor, “Gimme all yo money!!- wait, hey no one is here. I thought you said there was always some kid here Henry.” Said the first guy.

“Dammit man don’t use my name! He’s always here. Be careful, he knows some kinda Kung Fu shit I ain't never seen.”

I rolled my eyes and looked down at Kitara, holding out my hand and muttering, “Mirror explodes and beautiful girl pops out then the store gets robbed by anti-geniuses, man when it rains it pours.”

Kitara piped up, “I am not familiar with that expression Johnny Padelaki no title”.

I put a finger to her lip, marveling at her and said: “It’s just Johnny, whoever are you?”

“I am princess Kitara, daughter of Queen-“

I smiled and interrupted “Never mind, come with me and you have to be quiet.” I pulled her towards a very old closet, she was behind me now, and God she smelled good. I felt dizzy but at the same time, I was not going to let anything hurt this undeniably beautiful creature. I motioned for her to stay put. Henry and his partner entered the room looking around. Firstly they only had a baseball bat and each of them had no protective clothing on, what morons. I burst out of the closet like a barbarian, man since when did I get this reckless. I threw myself at Henry, I knew this guy, he grew up down the block from me and now here he was trying to steal from me and hurt what is mine. I don’t know where this rage came from, maybe it was from all those years in the shop who knows but I pounded fist after fist at his face. A loud pop rang in the air followed by a sharp pain at my side, which was only superseded, by the most excruciating and exploding pain I had ever felt, I toppled off to the side off of Henry’s bloody face. Clutching my own side in agony and to avoid losing any more blood. Damn this frickkin hurt, no one ever says how much it hurts. The guys in the movies always make it seem like nothing and get up. I couldn’t even see straight let alone move.

I heard the closet door open again and Kitara stepped out, I tried to get up but cursed, I was useless I couldn’t even save her. Man, why had I been so reckless? Henry’s accomplice, let’s call him DonkeyFace said: “Well looky what we have here, damn you look fine baby come give daddy some sugar.” I could see enough to tell

Kitara was pissed. She rushed the guy, no not rushed actually flew at the guy and grabbed him by the throat with one hand lifting him up. DonkeyFace was choking for air, then she wiggled her index finger and he crumpled to the ground like dead weight. She turned to me with concern in her gorgeous eyes, man what I would give to never have to see that worry in her eyes ever again.

“Arrgggh, sorry I’m so useless,” I grunted, disappointed in myself.

Kitara knelt down and gently hovered her hand over my wound. Miraculously I watched in awe as the wound closed, I felt the bullet inside me dissolve into sweet nothingness. “I am so glad you are in good health Just Johnny, you have been so kind to me and I like your eyes, I wish to see nothing ever bad happen to you” I chuckled, She liked my eyes? I frickkin loved her eyes! She placed her hand over my heart and closed her eyes; wow was she going to heal my soul or something now. Her eyes popped open with delight, she smiled and it just melted my heart “You have Fae blood in you, it’s faint but still there.” Again it was my turn with the Willy Wonka puzzled frown,

“Uhm that’s weird, maybe it was a transfusion or something. Am I in trouble?”

She laughed, it was the most entrancing sound I had ever heard, “No silly, it cannot be transfused it is part of who you are. And no you are not in trouble and now neither am I hahahah.” Kitara stood up and magically produced a large ivory colored sword that shone like the moon. “Dearest Johnny Padelaki of no title and my savior. By your forefather the Fae Bronson (Hey! That’s my great granddad's name), and by my Mother before me, I dub thee Fae Knight of the Royal

Bloodline. Do you denounce all in the name of your Queen and kinsfolk? To swear only to serve and protect those you are charged with in innocence?”

Silenced prevailed, my mind was so jumbled but hey if it meant I got to see more of her what the hell. “Uhm I guess so.”

With that, she plunged the sword so deep into my chest that I’m pretty sure it came out the other side!

*************

Authors Note

Sorry! No Zemlja Dosta Chronicles this week, giving you some time to catch up on the story.
Here are all the chapters:

Chapter 1 - The Unicorn Queen, The Samurai & The Wizard

Chapter 2 - The Unicorn Queen: Ari's Origin

Chapter 3 - The Samurai: Eru's Origin

Chapter 4 - The Unicorn Queen, The Samurai & The Wizard Part 2

Chapter 5 - The Elven Trials

Chapter 6 - Hocirne's Return

The Fairy Tale Adventures of Princess Kitara was written as a bedtime story. I asked my big sister what she wanted for her birthday, told her she could have anything and she said she wanted a story. So, abra kadabra, voila here's the bedtime story I wrote.

Part 2 of this story will be released next week as it was just too long to put in one blog post and hopefully, it's entertained you enough to look out for next weeks release.

Photography by AlfonzoWords

~Be Kind to One Another~ Ellen Degeneres

Precipice: The Second Most Important Date of Your Life

Inspire. Create. Write.TM

The Second Most Important Date is...The Proposal.

Mike stood upon a precipice, the winds of change blowing through his sandy blond hair. He'd always been a hard worker, always fighting for his dream to be the best advertiser out there. If he wasn't working, he was not living. His mind aflame with new ideas and slogans, constantly rearranging them like a conundrum until they became something meaningful. After becoming the head of the advertising department at PPC. He afforded himself with maybe too much of an ego boost. In actuality his life was committed to what he was good at, nothing less, that is until this day had arrived....

"Sir, where would you like the ten thousand lilies?" Said the petite florist.

He looked down at her, puzzled and for all he was worth, he could not figure out where on the baseball pitch to put them. Jenna loved lilies, in fact, they had met at a flower shop. This proposal had to go perfectly, it had to be as perfect as the moment they shared their first kiss. The orchestra, the stadium lights, the lilies, the digital board saying ‘Will you marry me?’ It all had to gel together the way his adverts would...harmonious.

"Put the lilies in a half-circle arc around the stadium, the table in the center on the pitchers podium, then add the orchestra near the left field to utilize the acoustics there and top it all off with the ‘Will you marry me?’ appearing on the board when I actually ask the question." He told the stressed looking caterer. She scrambled off to organize his demands. He rubbed his hands together with a smile, everything should run smoothly now. Although maybe a long run on the treadmill might clear his head.

He climbed the stairs to his apartment greeting Buster on the way in. Little Buster had been the dog Mike had grown to love, he'd never been fond of pets before, that is until Jenna ‘liberated’ him from a lab and brought him to stay with them. He was a scruffy little mutt, a mutt that Mike would spend his Sunday afternoons combing through his hair to get rid of any excess. Mike sat at his desk surfing the net and checking the latest ads out. He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew he was at the beach with Jenna, Buster and 5 other dogs that she had decided to walk today... As they got to the beach he knew with certainty what was going to happen next. Jenna let all 6 dogs go! Unleashing them on the beach, not knowing, or rather not caring if it would be a mission to leash them all again, especially Buster. She ran with them, hair tossing in the wind, screams high in the air, she ran. The dogs followed her like a pack, barking excitement. Mike laughed, this was one of his favorite memories of her. A memory that illustrated just how free and uninhibited she was. Everything he was not, she was his polar opposite in almost every way. She was life! The very essence itself, life incarnate in all its beauty and terror. Yes, terror. Her ability to be so, so, so down to earth was unnerving. He'd never met anyone so unencumbered. With a jerk, he woke up and felt like the keyboard keys were engraved on the side of his face. He went out onto the balcony as if standing on a precipice, the winds of change blowing through his sandy brown hair. He'd reached his epiphany within that dream, that one very vivid dream. He was going to marry Jenna, he was going to get down on one knee and propose to her.

Racing down the streets, through the busy nightlife of Manhattan, Mike knew exactly where she would be. The one place she had always felt safe, the stock exchange building. An unusual choice but Jenna had once said that it was exactly that chaos and insanity that made her feel safe. She would just sit there and watch people rant and rave over the stock market, voice upon voice each trying to be heard but lost within the echoes. Trying to push through the crowd to find Jenna was impossible, he'd get lost before he made it even a quarter of the way. So he climbed on a desk and took the microphone.

"SHUrrrrrrrrrrrR UP!!!" Silence greeted him back. "Jenna! JENNA!! JEENNNAA!!!!!" There! He spotted her, the crowd parting along the way and there she was. Her hair was all scuffed up and she looked like she'd been crying. He jumped down and ran to her, gripping her against his chest.

"Why are you crying?" He asked tentatively.

"Buster ran away today," She replied into his chest.

He chuckled, "He came home baby, Abdul must have let him in.” She looked up at him with so much hope he couldn't stand it anymore. Adrenaline pumped through him, Jenna must’ve found herself a whole lot taller than him now.

He descended to one knee and looked up into her brown button eyes. "When we first met you told me that I was the most egotistical, power-driven man you'd ever met. Well, I stand before you, not as that man, I stand before you today as… your man. The one you taught how to smile, how to be comfortable in casual clothes, how to laugh at the silliest of things, how to take a day off and the one you taught how to live out his secret dream even if it was just for one night. Jenna your beauty has only one equal, your spirit. You are all that I breathe for and from this day forward you're all that I live for. I don't want money or success or even that award for the best advert. All I want and need is you. Give me an angel as sweet and lovely as you and I'll love her with everything I have. Give me a home and I'd love it with all I have. Give me you, and I will give you my heart and soul. Will you marry me?"

Jenna looked down at him with tears in her eyes, smiling, she uttered a word that galvanized at the very core of his being. "Yes!"

Their lips met passionately somewhere after that, in all the chaos that followed. Cheers and screams rang high in the building. Whether it was to something that happened in the market or to their engagement… no one will ever know.

DeviantArt Cred: LiquidTheoryInc

THE END

***

Authors Note

This is a short story, Cover Reveal can be found Here

The Most Important Date can be found Here

Special Thanks to LiquidTheoryInc for allowing me to use his artwork at the end.

Enjoyed that? Share your thoughts or even better, your personal proposal stories, I love reading those. 

If you would like to join the Blog Tag fun, click on the link or the Image below. 

~Be Kind to One Another~ Ellen Degeneres

The First Date

Inspire. Create. Write. TM

This is a excerpt of Chapter Eight from my upcoming novel, The Cured: Rebirth

Novel Tagline:
Teen discovers a Cure for Cancer & has to make the Ultimate Choice. Save his Love or Save the World.

Main Characters:
William Scott: 15yo boy, spiky black hair, dying of stage four lung cancer.

Emma Ornnam: 15yo best friend & girlfriend of Will.

***

At long last though the moment had arrived. Will stood atop the hospital's pebble-stoned roof in his favorite jeans, a plain white T and a black blazer loaned from his father. He was entirely ashamed of how loose they all fit on him now causing him to rub his hands together as if to shake away this nervous knot rooted to his body. He looked out below at the city before him where the lights below dazzled with the motion of the cars. Darkness was illuminated in a transcendent way in such fascinating patterns even though that was never the intention. Somehow, someway, the lights of different colors and shapes blended into this melody that he felt compelled to admire. Will remembered the first time he'd been on a plane at night, looking out below and just in complete awe at the perspective he had. The lights of the cities formed these immaculate patterns that seemed almost frozen in time and he wondered for the first time in a long time if this is what God saw when he looked down at them. Whether He marveled the way Will did at the genius of man and the splendid colors that they had created.

His phone beeped that familiar Whatsapp sound announcing what could only mean that Emma was on her way up. He did a final check on his breath, smoothed out his blazer, pushed his oxygen tank behind his leg and stood there practically burning a hole at the place where she was to appear. The staircase door opened and there she was, like something out of a movie. The pearl dress she wore curved with her body in the most sensual way, while the wind blew through her velvet black hair making her tilt her head ever so slightly and close her eyes as if she was enjoying the sensation. She slowly opened her eyes and looked around. Will could only imagine what she saw, the circular white trestle table, two cloches covering the food, an ice bucket with non-alcoholic champagne and a vase in the middle with a single red rose. She clasped her hands over her mouth, “OH my word Will! You did all of this? It's amazing!"

Will shrugged, "I had a lot of help, especially with the heavy lifting."

She came over to hug him, her vanilla scent wafted over the air before she got to him. The hug was tentative like they both felt shy about the whole thing. Will motioned for her to sit down, then proceeded to reveal their dinner in one fluid motion but his grip on the cloche handle was too weak and the thing went sprawling to the pebbles below. He cursed loudly but Emma grabbed his hand, "Wow this looks amazing, forget the silly thing and come sit down. Are those omelets?"

Will sat down still cursing his clumsiness in front of her but he calmed enough to say, "I never told you this but I don't really know how to cook at all."

"What? You? No… neverdays." She had this knowing grin on her face.

"Anyway I do know one thing and that's how to make an omelet, so I stuck to my strengths and viola, dinner is served."

Emma giggled, slicing up a piece and upon her first bite, she moaned into the fork. "This tastes amazing! I don't ever want any other omelet besides this one."

They spent the rest of their meal talking in general, Emma catching Will up on the scandals at schools, laughing over their favorite Theo moments. All the while, Will sat there as if time stretched on endlessly for this moment. He traced every feature she had while she talked to him. As if cataloging everything to keep close to him forever. From those light brown flakes in her emerald eyes, to the way her whole face reacted when she smiled, to the tiny beauty spot below her left eye that made her so damn sexy. When she titled her head to the side it accentuated her eyes in a most sultry way, like some mysterious goddess. Will wanted so badly to tell her all these things, he'd practiced a thousand times. Things like how it felt to have her in his arms or how at peace he felt when she was with him like his insides weren't at war anymore. That she was his best friend and about how connected he felt to her every time he told her about the darkest parts of him. He tried so hard to will his mouth to say this but instead what came out was about the time he farted and blamed her cousin who she didn't talk to for a week after. She laughed so hard that she choked abit on the champagne and didn't that make him feel for her more than ever.

"So Will, I just have to know who was that hooters woman that rocked up here? You've never mentioned any busty, dark-haired friends to me and I would've definitely heard about it from the guys had they known." There was that mischievous grin again.

Will exhaled, "Damn Emma way to throw a guy on the plank. Sheesh well I mean we met awhile back when I was searching for… something and I helped babysit for her while she studied to complete her engineering degree. She's actually fiercely independent, in fact, she almost broke my nose when I first offered to help her study. She takes a lot of night and weekend classes, so the babysitting helped a lot. Then Billy started with the whole 'daddy' thing and I just didn't have the heart to correct him."

Emma nodded, "Oh ok I see, well that all still doesn't mean I have to particularly like her. What's her name?"

"Monique Velasquez."

"Did you sleep with her?"

"What? No, Emma I've told that I haven't slept with anyone yet."

She muttered under her breath pointedly for him to hear, "That's not my fault."

Will couldn't help but smile at the situation, "Jealously looks cute on you Ems."

Emma huffed "Ha! Me, jealous of her? In your dreams Will Scott, in your dreams."

Will put his phone on the table, unlocking it with a swipe and hit play. Thank Sam for his obsession with movie scores. He stood up and held out his hand, "Ems, you're right she and every other women should be completely jealous of how beautiful you look right now. So stand up and come dance with your boyfriend."

She stood up without a word, placing her hands on his biceps and laying her head to rest on his chest as if listening to his heartbeat. Will wrapped his arms around her lower back pulling her close. He let that vanilla scent flow through him freeing every tense muscle in his body. For what seemed like a lifetime they slow danced there in silence just enjoying the music and each other. Emma looked up at him with purposeful eyes, "Will I know that your perspective on things has changed since you were given this unfair burden. I also know that every decision you've made since has been purely driven by how bad your condition is getting. But I need you to promise me something. I need just this one thing."

Will paused as he studied her eyes, they were pleading with him hoping for his answer. He felt gravel in his throat when he answered, "Anything Ems. Anything."

Emma took a deep breath in and he realized just as he had practiced trying to say all those things, she had been practicing saying this, "No more pushing me away, ok? It's us from here on out Will. I can't keep going through you pushing me away whenever things get serious or your condition gets worse. I need you to promise me that for however long this lasts or for however short it is, that we will go through it together. Whether you die tomorrow or whether you get cured, we're in this together. Forget the world, just you and me."

He answered her in the only way that mattered, with a kiss. Their lips touched and the whole world as messy or beautiful as it was, all faded away.

DeviantArt Cred: SsGirlo

***
Happy❤ #ValentinesDAY❤

Will sat there as if time stretched on endlessly for this moment. He traced every feature she had while she talked to him. As if cataloging everything to keep close to him forever. From those light brown flakes in her emerald eyes, to the way her whole face reacted when she smiled, to the tiny beauty spot below her left eye that made her so damn sexy. When she titled her head to the side it accentuated her eyes in a most sultry way, like some mysterious goddess. Will wanted so badly to tell her all these things, he'd practiced a thousand times. Things like how it felt to have her in his arms or how at peace he felt when she was with him like his insides weren't at war anymore. That she was his best friend and about how connected he felt to her every time he told her about the darkest parts of him. He tried so hard to will his mouth to say this but instead what came out was about the time he farted and blamed her cousin who she didn't talk to for a week after. She laughed so hard that she choked abit on the champagne and didn't that make him feel for her more than ever. #ValentinesDay

A post shared by Enricoh Alfonzo (@alfonzowords) on Feb 14, 2018 at 6:20am PST

© Enricoh Alfonzo ~ Alfonzo Words 

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~Be Kind to One Another~ Ellen Degeneres

Life Lessons of a College Dropout

Inspire. Create. Write.TM

A father kneeled before his son. He gently stroked the boy’s hair and smiled at him with pride.

“You are such a good boy.”

The son nodded his head, hungry for his father’s praise. He looked up to him, this strong omniscient man. The child adored him. He would do everything for his father’s approval.

“Don’t be like that no good friend of yours, you hear? He only roams around doing nothing. He will never amount to anything! But you. You will go places! You will become a distinguished lawyer and earn tons of money.”

Again, the boy nodded eagerly and ran into his room. He had to study. He had to prove to his father that he is worthy of his love.

Years passed and both the boy and his no good friend went to college. The boy exceeded and made his father even prouder. But his friend struggled and eventually had to drop out of college.

“See? My father was right! He really is no good,” he snorted haughtily.

Even more, years passed and the boy, now a young man and a distinguished lawyer is sitting on a bench in a park. He is eating a stale sandwich, but he doesn’t notice it. He is glaring into the distance. An empty look in his eyes brings to light a painful truth. He is not happy. He doesn’t like what he does for his living; he doesn’t like how he lives. He doesn’t like who he is. In reality, he doesn’t even know who he is!

A pigeon flies over his head and sits on a branch above him. It coos and discretely poops on his shoulder. The last straw! The man starts to cry unstoppably.

He is always working, never taking rest. He never does anything fun. His wife doesn’t love him. And quite frankly, he doesn’t love her either. He only married her, because his father said it is time to get serious. That it is appropriate for a man of his status to have a wife. Not just any wife, oh, no! The one from a respected family.

Earlier that day he met his childhood friend. A small business owner, but he still takes life as a play. He roams around the world. From one of his previous journeys, he brought his new wife with him. What a wife! Ten years older, Philippine woman with two children from her previous relationship. Nevertheless, the friend is thriving.

The saddened lawyer never in his life met such an exuberant person. His childhood friend, that no good drop-out-of-college emanated genuine joy, happiness, and zest for life.

Naturally, the man asked his friend what is his secret. After all, he did drop out of school, so his prospects of success weren’t pleasurable.

The friend grinned in amusement. He leaned towards the man and revealed his wisdom.

***

I. Dream. Dream Big.

“Cherish your visions and your dreams, as they are the children of your soul; the blueprints of your ultimate achievements.” ~Napolean Hill

What’s the richest & wealthiest place on the planet?.....(Drum Roll please)………………….

The GraveYard.

It’s overflowing with unfulfilled ideas & dreams, all lost to the void.

To Dream is to live many lives within this Infinitesimally fleeting One. To Dream Big is to leave a Legacy for future generations to follow. Are you willing to lay your dreams & ideas to the grave? or Are you willing to soar higher than any before you?

II. Family is Power

“I would see the world Burn & my soul claimed to eternal Torment, rather than endure a single moment of their Pain.” ~Alfonzowords

When the world shrieks & groans at you, a moment with Family is a moment of strength. They will shelter you, harbor you, support you, fight you, drain you, empower you & altogether love you, Unconditionally. They only require the chance.

III. Love is a Kaleidoscope

"There are all kinds of love in this world but never the same love twice." ~F. Scott Fitzgerald

Love comes in all shapes, size, colors & above all else, it is delivered unto thee in Free Will. Follow your Heart as often as you can with as much bravery as you can muster. No worth is found later in that safe choice laid out for you on a platter of silvers. Heart-Throbbing, Mind-Numbing, Life-Altering, Passion-Entwining, Maddening-Inducing, Love is the stuff of legend. It will bind you, release you, conquer you, enlighten you & breathe for you. Never miss that opportunity to say “Love you.”

IV. There is no I in We

“Help others get what they want & you will automatically get what you want.” ~Zig Ziglar

For a long time, I laid waste to every sentence that began with “We”. I alone felt compelled to soar ever higher and look down from the skies. Such a daft-dingbat, wallow-bee was I. It is only through Equality that we learn true Humility. Everyone is Me & I am Everyone, yet we are All unique. Today I stand with my fellow man & woman, naked in shame over past deeds but honest & true to every future hour that I live. Adamant in my will to be considerate, empathic & most of all, humble to all that enter my life. In hope, I wish it for you as well. Everyone matters.

V. What Is within You

“The two most Important days in your life are, the day you were Born & the day you find out WHY you were born.” ~Mark Twain

Personal Development is akin to finding the True Divinity within the Real world. It is beyond our comprehension yet wholly underrated & misbegotten. The most important key is to find your WHY, which stands for: What Hurts You. What makes you want to get out of bed in the morning, what makes you push past all limits, what activates you to action above all else. Is it your child, your partner, your parents, you family, or even yourself? Make it as an emotional answer as you can. Remember it always & forever. Read more, listen more, and watch more. Never settle for a “full cup”, always be willing to learn & grow. Personal Development is the greatest “Life-Hack”, greatest wake-up call & altogether the greatest resource you could ever have.


VI. Haters, gonna Hate

“Evil Prevails when good men do nothing.” ~Edmund Burke



Human nature is to grow up wanting to belong, to be liked, respected & valued but naught for your integrity & happiness, shall you sacrifice. There is a reason that only 1 percent of the world is Wealthy in every sense of the word. It is because the other 99 percent aren’t willing to go the distance. Every excuse, reason & logic is used to define their rooted routines. And that is Ok, it is their choice & theirs alone. But when you decide, when you find your WHY and make it your absolute Dream, they all fade away like a puff of smoke. The melody that you compose will sing louder than all the 99 percent voices combined. You cannot please everyone but you can accept them for who they are. We are here to serve mankind and not oppress any one voice, regardless of the tone.


VII. Your Story is your Own

“This is ten percent Luck, twenty percent Skill

Fifteen percent concentrated Power of Will

Five percent pleasure, fifty percent Pain

And a hund’ed percent reason to remember the Name!” ~Fort Minor, Remember the Name

Everyone is Us & We are Everyone, yet we are All unique. Within each of us lies a journey, a song, a story for the ages. It is only by living it that we can truly unravel the wisdom that comes with it. You are strong, a creator, a guardian, a light in the darkness & candle to the wind. Burn bright, burn eternal, burn warmly & in awe of the beauty that exists all around you. Reach out, share your story. For there is no Greater agony than bearing a Story Untold within You. A friend will listen, a friend will care. Family will listen, family will care. But a stranger will listen, and a stranger will bare. You will touch their souls, irrevocably. Go forth now, be better than the person you were yesterday. Live a life of Dreams & Family, of Love & Community, of Wealth & Acceptance. Uncover that story you belong to, unveil the magic that is within you. And if nothing else, Believe. Believe that your One True Self, can shape this world for the better.

***

The young lawyer’s friend followed his heart. He was not filled with his parents’ expectations for him, as the man was. He paid attention to his own dreams, desires, and aspirations and he wasn’t afraid to take the necessary steps toward achieving them. Along the way he had fun and enjoyed the whole process. He took 100% responsibility for his life and turned it into something worth living.

On the other hand, the lawyer made his father’s vision of him for his own. He went after what his father said was good for him. He forgot altogether about his own wishes and succumbed to father’s visions for his life. He didn’t share them with his father. Hence, he was miserable in life.

Who do you want to be?

********************************

Authors Note

I'm beyond jazzed to introduce you to the guest blogger who helped me rock this post on Life Lessons. We pooled out experiences to give you this short story & the listed 7 Life Lessons. After the success of the post I did with the ever-talented Sumarie, I had been searching for another megastar to work with. Lo' & behold, I found her and it took me only one paragraph to fall in love with her writing style & voice. Both powerful in its own right, I marveled at the strong message she brought forth. So without ado, I give you.

Nina Obran:

After being single practically all her life Nina embarked on a journey of self-discovery and personal development in order to make peace with herself and find the love of her life. She wrote a book 7 Daily Habits for Singles Not to Be Single Anymore (link: http://www.amazon.com/Daily-Habits-Singles-Single-Anymore-ebook/dp/B01DVUVY3C) to help herself with this endeavor. Living what she preaches she is not single anymore!

You can find her at www.ninaobran.com.

If you would like to join in the fun of The Blog Tag. Click on the link or the picture below.

~Be Kind to One Another~ Ellen Degeneres

The Recipe of Love

Inspire. Create. Write. TM

Phantom pains had become the bane of my existence, to have to go through this hellish torture every day was as unfair as it was frustrating. Waking me before that blasted alarm clock could even try. 

"Margie...Margerie...Margerie!" I called out groggily, realizing all too late that she ain't even here to begin with. I grunted unhelpfully and kicked off the blanket with one leg. I used the assist handlebar that hung just above the bed, to heave myself up. Looking down I immediately felt unilateral anger well up inside me, letting out a sigh, I exhaled longingly. I closed my eyes and did as the Guru Vikram had requested, I said my affirmations. 

"I am still a man, I am still a husband...a father am I, still. I Will not let this define my existence. One step at a time is all I need. Aum Shanti, Aum Shanti Aum."

With that, I pulled over the titanium contraption and grabbed the lotion from the dresser. Margerie usually did this for me, and she did it so well. This would be my first day attaching it without her aid. My lubricated hands slowly crept down my leg, shaking all the way. When I reached the stub, that dull devil of a phantom crept up my body causing pain tremors to run through. I cursed loudly, shook my head out and began the slow, soothing rhythmic massaging over my stub. Once a sufficient amount was applied, I wrapped the stub in the elastic sleeve and carefully mounted the titanium contraption. It slipped in comfortably enough and I wholeheartedly ignored the feeling of ice cold metal. 

The major concern was getting up, thankfully, my thoughtful Margerie made sure the assist-handlebar that hung from the ceiling, was also attached to a railing that could be moved around the room in a circuit. So I gripped the handle and hoisted myself up, balancing my weight on the one leg. I clenched my heart and placed the remaining weight on the other leg. The pressure of metal against bone and muscle hurt like the seven hells but I endeavored, my affirmations still fresh in my head. 

Today’s mission was of the utmost importance which would determine the very future of my existence. I grabbed my lion-headed cane to steady myself as I limped my way into the living room. It took me twenty-seven minutes longer just to get to the supermarket & restaurant for supplies. By the time I reached home, my legs gave way & I plummeted into the leather-covered comforter. Reaching over to the landline, I dialed the only two numbers I bothered remembering.

“Buenos Dias Papa!” My mind eased at the sound of my Becca’s voice, chuckling at her words.

“I see Spain is agreeing with you then my little bumblebee.”

“Oh Yes! It’s totes fantastic, can I stay here forever Papa?”

Becca spent the largest part of the conversation talking my ear off about the sites & bites of Spain in all its glory. I was content to just listen. We hung up minutes later, only for me to dial a number that I had been dreading to dial.

Please don’t be enjoying yourself too myself My Margie, please. I thought.

“Hello, Jeremiah.” A stern monotone voice countered.

“Missy. Where is my Margie?” I grumbled, not at all pleased with who answered my wife’s phone.

“She enjoying her life, brother-in-law. Can’t come to the phone.” Missy spat out the word ‘brother-in-law’ like that title wasn’t going to last for much longer. If she had her way, I had no doubt that my assumption would come true. I hung up abruptly, utterly pissed off now, then altogether fell into melancholy. After all, this was my fault.

Five years, six tours in the army & not a single scratch on me. One miserable accident on my motor bike & BOOM! Crippled for life. Not even going to make the excuse of a 'mid-life crisis' now that the kids were all grown up. Not even going to justify my mistake. But that was not the worst of it. If I had been distant before, I became further more so once I lost my leg. The defeat in me was palpable in its despair, taking out all my frustration on Margerie. I got up and went over to the TV cabinet where a photograph of Margie lay. It was beautifully taken such was Becca’s talent. Margie was out in the garden, tending to her tulips when Becca caught her just as the wind swept through her cropped brown hair, indulging in a closed-lidded reverence at the feeling. She looked almost ethereal and so damn good for her age. The next photo was the one taken on our wedding day. 

DeviantArt Cred: HalatSoph

What an ass I had been. Margie had been so supportive after the accident, taking care of my every waking need. I would be bathed, clothed & feed on a daily basis, to which I barely noticed. Consumed with my hatred for my predicament. It had all become too surreal, realizing just how much I had taken for granted, the ability to walk on two legs. How could I feel like a man again? How could I feel like a lover again? It tormented through all the seconds a day had to spare, devouring my mind into an abyss. The day before she left for her sister’s place, was the worst still. 

She had been helping me to fit on my artificial limb when the blasted thing sent my nerve endings into a wall of fire. I lashed out screaming at her for incompetence and rocketing that silver leg into one of the mirrors in our room. The sprawling glass had caught her in the arm. The thing about my Margie was that she didn’t make a fuss at all, she calmly cleaned herself up & with love still within her eyes, she announced she would go see Missy for a few days. It was that very next morning that the earth-shattering realization dawned on me, I had been blaming my sweet sweet Margie all along. Lashing out at her, believing her not to understand what I felt like. A part of me still thinking that she would be gloating over my pain for not listening to her about the motor bike in the first place.

I shook myself out of those wallowing thoughts, no, this was not the time to get lost in reflection. I had created this problem, now was the time for action. I was going to win back the love of my life, the mother of my children, the heart of my heart. Years ago, Margie had fallen in love with Indian cuisine during our vacation to India. Her favorite among it was butter chicken. To start in my begging for her forgiveness, I was going to prepare that meal for her. It had been decided that any One gesture would definitely not be worthy of an apology to her. I would come to prove to her each & every day going forward, just how much she means to me. Granted, it had been years since I have used a stove or cooked anything for that matter. One of the many things, I had to repent for with her.

15 minutes later…

Things were going great! The ingredients mixed into the pot well, it smelled & looked good. I was feeling nine shades of proud with myself, excited about seeing Margie’s reaction to all of this. Too late did I realize that I had incorrectly placed the bottle of oil. It toppled over as I reached out a hand unconsciously, oil greased the floor beneath me. I gripped out frantically but the only thing I caught was the handle of the pot. And so I, together with the pot, joined the now very slippery floor. 

CLANG! I closed my eyes tight in anticipation for the pain that was soon to follow…but none came. Looking up I saw that, thankfully, my hated prosthetic had taken the brunt of the curry'd explosion. Made a note to appreciate it later.

For now, I had to slap my forehead in embarrassment and thank Christ that the kids hadn’t been here to see that. After cleaning everything up, I chose to empty my metaphorical cup so to speak. Forgetting everything I knew and started the recipe anew.

First, I doubled checked my inventory of ingredients.

Swallowing my pride, I gave Guru Vickram a call. Anything for my Margie. Step by step he walked me through what to do.

As instructed, I began by marinating the chicken, which involved a helluva messy affair. I used the lemon juice, turmeric, tandoori spice with the ginger & garlic paste for this part. Allowing the chicken to be imbued with spicy goodness, I took a break to watch the last quarter of the game on the telly. Next, I added the required two tablespoons of Butter Ghee to a new pot, letting it liquefy before adding cumin seeds & mustard. Once the seeds started to pop I included the sliced onions and completed the mixture with 250ml of hot water when the onions started to brown. Then I toppled the chopped tomatoes & the reminder of the spices into the concoction, splurging on some sugar as well for the sauce. 

Funnily enough, this reminded me of that cartoon my Becca loved as a kid. What was it called? Pugglypuff girls? What I do remember is that they were created by ingredients. Sugar, spice & everything nice. With the added bonus of chemical X. Didn’t that just make me believe that my Margie was created with the very same ingredients? Definitely posing that special X factor, having waited for me through my long tours away, raising more of our kids than I ever did, being a loving wife and taking care of me after the accident. She truly was the greatest thing I have ever done with my life.

Guru Vikram was very specific of the temperature settings & when to reduce it along the process. In a separate frying pan, I sautéed the chicken in ghee & oil (careful this time to relocate the bottle as far away as possible). The rich aroma of sizzling spicy chicken permeated the room, leaving me light-headed & my tummy growling. Sufficiently cooked now, I tumbled the chicken into the sauce. My leg was in burning fury but I ignored it, so focused was I on the task at hand. After about ten cruel minutes on high heat, I administered the fresh cream & garnished with chopped coriander to finish off my ministrations. The ten-ton tension on my shoulders eased after a very elongated sigh, I did it! I survive my very first cooking fiasco in years.

Later that night….

Like an antelope on high-alert, I stood there, painstakingly waiting for my Margie to enter through the doorway.

“Jerry….Jerry! I’m home.” Margerie called as she walked into the kitchen from the garage. She squinted into the darkness. I poised myself as best I could and switched on the lights. An audible gasp escaped her succulent lips. I could only imagine what she saw. The dining room table all decked out in her fancy table cloth, with her fancy plates. In the center a bouquet of her favorite flowers, Chrysanthemums. Dangling from the ceiling I had hung a few origami shapes, the very skill that had got me a date with this insanely hot woman in the first place. They danced with the air, reflecting light from the candles below. Then there was me, decked out in the Armani suit she had gotten me but had never worn, shaved faced and all spritzed up with that after-shave she too had gotten me in earnest.

Margarie clasped her hands together and blurted out, “Jerry, I just….I cannot believe this.” She sniffed at the air, surprise over taking her expression. “You! You made butter chicken as well?!” Tears stung her eyes now as if she didn’t deserve this, I cursed myself internally. This was definitely a problem I was going to deal with first.

Cursing more and with great effort, I approached her on bended knee & took her dainty hand in my gruff one.

“My Margie, my sweet sweet Margie. You have no idea how sorry I am for how I’ve treated you this past year and even before that still. If you’d let me, I’d like to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Starting with this, because you deserve it all and so much more.”

Margie fell to her knees beside me & hugged me close. Her heavenly scent, carrying me into the best peace I’ve had in years. I vowed silently that I would never let go of her, ever again. 

DeviantArt Cred: blondepassion

~Be Kind to One Another~ Ellen Degeneres