On bended knee
It was February 3, 2018, I loved her so. I already had the ring in my pocket and scared out of my mind. I kept telling myself in the tasting room of that vineyard as we tried every wine on the shelf. It helped to calm my nerves. "God, is this your will for my life?" I asked several times, without any answer as I glanced outside, watched the vines swing with the winter wind. "If I can get her outside alone, a perfect time to propose marriage to my beloved Laura."
Just then out of her mouth. "Let us go outside and collect cuttings from the vineyard, we can plant back at my home and grow our own grapes." She was even more beautiful when she talked about things we love together.
All of the fear and doubts that I had about us, vanished. I knew this was a door wide open. For everystep that I took forward, two opened up by themselves.
Laura gracefully, was in the vineyard ahead of me as I fumbled with the ring in my coat pocket. The fear returned with a vengeance. I had never been more scared in my life. "Twenty seconds of courage Will." That was all I could do to pump myself up, in a vineyard in Grapevine, Texas.
Without anymore hesitation, I just got on one knee and said some words that I do not remember saying. Laura's eyes widened as she jumped up and down. "Yes! Yes!" She kept saying as I put the ring on her finger. My mind was in a cloud, but bliss I found.
Out of time!
I had what is called a vision upon your head. Just a small flash of a movie (1-5 seconds long) the other day. It was simple, like the secret ingredient to New York Pizza.
I saw a muscle car at night, of course the headlights were on. The vehicle came to a creeping stop, the driver could not be seen. The brakes squealed. The driver tried 3 times to start the car. Suddenly, the car blew up in flames.
Not sure what that means lol. But it could be the begining of a movie/book.
“That is it. I am going to get something and kill all of you.” Mark said as a roach crawled across his kitchen counter, which Mark killed with the shoe off his foot. Not even the smell of freedom let him sleep better at night, no matter how much Mark cleaned, the rodents appeared. Mark tied his trash bag shut from the kitchen and thought what he could do to fix his rodent problem. He leaned against the front door, disgusted at where he was in life right now. Mark sighed. “Bromadiolone!” Mark said as he opened the pantry door, he remembered he saw rat poison when he first moved in. There it was, way in the back of the pantry, the label was faded. He was careful, he knew the little white powder was deadly. Mark was certain to hold it away from him before he opened it. He backed up slowly careful not to get any powder on his hands. “This stuff is deadly.” Mark repeated and sprinkled the white powder behind his refrigerator and close to the trash can.
“Mark Goodman!” A voice spoke from the hallway and spooked him. The white powder was somehow knocked over, and spilt all over the kitchen counter.
Mark froze, as the voice knocked on the door.
“Yes.” Mark said as he took a good look through the door’s peep hole. Suddenly, the back of Mark’s head exploded as the bullet passed threw the door. The gunman opened the door and quickly locked it and stepped over Mark’s lifeless body, and put two more bullets into Mark’s deceased corpse. The gunman begun to search the apartment, knocked over a few tables, he was looking for something frantically.
He opened the closet door, pulled miscellaneous items in haste. “It has got to be in here.” The man passed the kitchen and looked at the powdery substance on the counter. He wet his fingers and ran them threw the white powder, mistaken it for cocaine. He went to work again, ransacked the apartment. Within minutes, he begun to sweat heavily, by the time he had searched the whole apartment, he felt like he had the flu.
“Bromadiolone!” He said out loud and held the capsule he found on the floor beside Mark. “Oh God, no!” He cried out as he vomited heavily all over the floor.
The phone rang! The gunman was startled, he hesitated in his weakness. The sixth time it rang, he answered but did not speak.
“I assumed Mark Goodman is dead!” The man said on the other end. “And you did not find what you were looking for.”
The gunman hesitated. “Yes and no.”
“Excellent, the police are about to knock on the door, let them take you… We have a job for you that is far more profitable than killing rats. How about it John Hunt?”
“I swallowed rat poison by mistake. I feel deathly ill.” John said to the mystery man on the phone.
“I will inform them to send an ambulance. Lay down your weapon, once you leave the hospital we will contact you. You have much work to do in Mexico.” The voice said as he hung up the phone.
John dropped the phone, and fell to his knees. The sweat dripped from John’s head as he dry heaved constantly unable to stand.
“Open up it is the police!” They said from the hallway as the door was kicked open. John tossed his pistol a way from himself and placed his hands in the air.
Why the drug cartels hate me?!
I was invited to take a trip to Cabo San Lucas over the summer. The scenery was breathe taking. The water was the perfect blue and the seal that jumped unto the back of our boat sealed the deal.
Later that evening, we choose a resturant called "The Office" for our meal. We took our seats by the water and was instantly bombared by the locals that tried to sell us anything from t-shirts to marijuana. I was alarmed at first, this would of never happened in the states.
"No, no." I said repeatedly. I am in sales myself, so I was familiar with the numbers game and how the vendors constantly bombared you while I wanted to eat with my family. For thirty minutes solid, we were bombarded. I finally had enough and politely, sad "no" with a little hand gesture that must of offended their drug cartel boss right away.
When the next vendor came to the table, he looked as if he was doing drugs, no shirt, no shoes and no manners, reached across the black line they are not suppose to cross and stuck a joint in my face. I quickly gestured "no" from the dis-respect he had for our family.
He grabbed his private area vulgerly, "you fu6$ american!" He yelled and cursed in perfect english.
"Will, do not get up!" My sister in law warned me. "That guy just called you a horse."
I have to admit, my fight or flight instinct kicked in quick as I wanted to fight that guy for running his mouth like that. But I knew he would die a drug dealer in due time. Secretly, I also knew why he hated me, our spirit collided in war that nobody sitting at that table would understand.
I had almost finished my novel and the main character had killed many drug cartels. Again, it was just a book but I knew that writing something profound and deep had a spiritual effect on you and the atmosphere you bring.
I politely waited as he moved on and actually eneded up buying a t-shirt from a sweet little hispanic lady. I loved the hispanic culture. I could easily move there and embrace their point of views. My point is, I understood when no one else did, why that drug pusher and I did not like each other from the start. Our writings can be spiritual.
are there any
“The Lion in the Thicket”
The lion jumped at me to establish himself as sovereign and slapped the floor with his paw and roared so loud my ears rang, the surge of fear I felt drove me out of that kitchen. I slammed into the dining room table, knocked over chairs, “Grandama”, I yelled. The chairs tackled me it seemed as I tried to catch my feet. I ran through the living room and hoped a Lion would not be behind me. The stairway was my escape, my momentum carried me almost past it. I knocked off several pictures that hung on the wall as I ran up the stairway, in a frantic to get back to my weapon that I kept in my room.
I locked my door and grabbed my gun from beside my bed, pulled the bolt back and loaded a round into the chamber, “Grandma, there is a lion in the kitchen”, I yelled as claws came through my bedroom door as I prepared to fire. “Stay in your room”, I yelled with no response from her and then lion pulled his claws from the door and ran back down the stairs. The house shock as he rubbed the walls of the stairwell.
Christian/Fiction,18-99, Approximately 69,000, Will Tolar, This is my first novel and I would like to recieve guidance for future writings. Have you ever wanted to ask God a question? Paul Schaffer lost his beloved and hears a story of redemption from a man dying in a nursing home, John Hunt. Paul has a choice, take a risk or remain in his small world of darkness. Your next life is hidden in the scary thing that is before you.. My target audience would be christian and non-christian readers, I can even include the daydreamer as well. Bio- I am 37 years old, married to my beautiful wife Laura and I have a daughter who is 1.5 years old. I own Diversified Farms USA(www.diversifiedfarmsusa.com) a grass fed beef business that supplies beef to the local families. We hope to get certified by the state to process beef for resturants within the next year. I graduated from La Tech in Ruston with a Bachelors in Liberal Arts, that has yet to benefit me on a resume in the last 12 years. I worked in the oilfield to make ends meet but I never fit in there. Since Covid, we have been actively building our brand as a local beef supplier. My personality is generally laid back, but I do have a business mindset. I also enjoy helping others find what they are looking for in life. The Lion in the Thicket has taken me 3 years to start and finish. So I cherish every word on the page. My writing style is yet to be discovered, I would imagine fiction. I am taking writing classes as we speak. I enjoy telling stories to family and friends, exaggeated like always. My hobbies have been narrowed down due to being married and a little girl constantly demanding my attention. I enjoy fishing on the Red River at night for catfish. You never know what you will catch. I live in Cotton Valley, La.