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Storytime Tapestry Newsletter
The newsletter devoted to
spreading love and cultural awareness around the world.
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Feb 26, 2006
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Today??™s announcements
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I
would like to introduce Rashmi Kayala, as writer #298 for Storytime
Tapestry.? Please send her many emails to
welcome her to the group.
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Now onto the good stuff!
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Today??™s Valentines Stories
~**~**~
Silk Monika Pant ? Silk. It reminded him of the glorious sea waves sliding over each other. Of her smooth body in perfect communion with his. Of her lovely coil of black hair snaking down her bare back. He picked up his pen and began to write. Swirling thoughts in his head made him
incapable of capturing them on paper today. Exasperated, he pushed back his chair and with an impatient flick of his hair went outside. ? The sky was a purple bruise over the dark ocean. He wanted her Desperately tonight. Time stood by and watched him, as he lay down on the sand and stared at the velvet sky above. The stars twinkling there reminded him of the glittering lights that would adorn her huge mansion tonight.
Through a film of tears, he saw the stars move from their places and
drop upon him like liquid fire. His eyes burned, his heart was ablaze,
kindled perhaps by the fire before which she sat, in her red and gold
silk sari. Silk on silk, he would say, every time she had draped a
silken sari around her silky form. He could never have afforded one.
But, that had never deterred him. He would drape her form with gossamer
words, he said, or with velvet kisses. ? With a start, he got up and walked to the ocean. Of what use were his words now? He kept walking. Silk on silk??¦ he smiled and walked on. He remembered those silky arms twining round his neck as the waves closed over him.
Monika Pant
mpant65@sify.com
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~**~**~
The Gift Monika Pant ? Alyona looked at the neatly-packaged box and with trembling
fingers opened it. Nestling in the folds of the tissue, were a pair of
shoes. Blue suede shoes, with a golden star on top, which caught the
light and shone. Slowly, a tear trickled down her cheeks. ? She had wanted such a pair for as long as she could remember. At fifteen, she had already been acclaimed as rising ballet dancer. She remembered the painful sessions, balancing on her toes, the continuous ranting and raving of her trainer,
Mr. Petrovich, the pushing herself to the limits of her endurance. She remembered her aching legs in the evenings, as she sat stoking the fire, and she also remembered the dreams floating through her head as she lay down each day after all her chores were done. ? All through those days, she remembered passing by the shop
window, which displayed the blue suede shoes. They were delicate as a fairy??™s wing. With stars in her eyes, she looked upon the golden star on each shoe and every night, before going to sleep, she would count
the pennies she had saved. ? She had imagined herself wearing them for the
Annual Ballet Competition at the Kalmyk Theatre. She had imagined
herself as a fairy, light as a feather, pirouetting her way down the
stage, bowing to the applause. She had shared her dreams with no one but Alexei, her childhood companion, her heart, her soul??¦ Alexei, who had left Moscow last year to pursue his dream of becoming a medical practitioner. ? Alexei stood before her now, holding out his hands.
? ???Wear them and show me, I??™m sure your feet haven??™t grown much since
last October.??? ? His ringing laugh stopped suddenly like a bird shot in mid-air. His eyes had travelled down to the stumps??¦all that remained
of her beautiful feet. ? ???What??¦?How??¦???? he broke down, kneeling to
touch them. ? Slowly, Alyona lifted his head onto her lap and
murmured, ???Shhh??¦my dear??¦It doesn??™t matter now. All that matters is that you??™ve come back. I??™ve been holding back my tears for so
long.??? ? I am a forty year-old woman
from Lucknow, India. My family comprises my husband of 18 years and two
lovely daughters. I am a teacher in La Martiniere Girls' College,
teaching English to senior students. Last year I was diagnosed with
ovarian cancer, and had to have a hysterectomy, followed by six cycles
of chemotherapy. I am writing a novel based on these experiences and
looking for a publisher who would publish this novel. ? Monika
Pant B-183, Nirala nagar, Lucknow - 226020 Uttar
Pradesh India
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~**~**~
Ben: Thief of the Heart? ?
?© Darlene Arechederra
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He was the runt of the litter -- the tiniest little guy I'd ever seen.?
Maybe three pounds, if you counted the fur.? His sleepy, blue eyes were
too new yet to focus properly.? He let out a yawn, crinkling his small
snout in the process.
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He was pure chocolate.?
And I knew in my heart that he was mine.
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But, three young children
scooped him up, cuddling and stroking him.
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"Oh, Mom!? He's
adorable!? Can we take him home?"
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My heart plummeted to the cold,
gray concrete beneath my feet.? I heard it splatter.
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I didn't want to be
selfish.? I wanted this young, pigeon-toed Labrador.? But, so
did these kids.
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"If they'll be good to
him, then let it be.? If that's where he belongs, then help me accept
that," I whispered to the Big Guy Upstairs.
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"Oh!? And help me
find another little mutt who's put here just for me," I added for good
measure.
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"Look, mom!? He wants
to come home with us!"? The kids shoved the pup into her hands.
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She held him above her head,
rubbing her nose against his snout.
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"He's cute alright.?
But we're not bringing any dogs home!"
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Sigh.? "Thank you,
Lord!"? I felt my heart zip back? from the concrete and return to
my chest.
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Mom placed him back into the
cage with his siblings and ushered the kids toward the exit.
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I felt a twinge of guilt.?
After all, did I deserve him any more than they?
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But, guilty or not, I wasn't
about to risk someone else snatching him up.? Hubby and I quickly went
over to the counter to see what was required to take this little guy home.?
There were rules, you know.
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"Oh, you can't take him
home todaaaay!"? Wouldn't you know it, he couldn't leave until he'd
been neutered.? But, we could pick him up on Valentine's Day -- still over
a week away.
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Honestly, I didn't know if I
had the patience to wait.? And, what if they messed up and gave him to
someone else in the meantime?
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Patience was definitely not my
virtue as I waited out the following week.? I swear, I almost took to
biting my nails again.
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On Valentine's Day, I held my
breath waiting for my guys to arrive home.? Hubby was to pick him up on
his way home from work before the facility closed.
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Hubby finally came through the
door, still in his work clothes and jacket.? But all he had with him was
his cooler.
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"Well, where's our little
guy?"? I craned my neck to check behind hubby.? Maybe the pup
was tackling the steps.
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"I'm sorry, Honey.?
There was a mix-up.? He went home with someone else, and ..."
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I didn't hear the rest of his
words.? The blood rushed to my head.? The only thing I could hear was
the pounding of blood between my ears.
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I swallowed hard when I felt
the tears coming.
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"There are other puppies
out there needing a home," I consoled myself.? Besides, hubby looked
guilty, and I didn't want him feeling bad about it.? A true lady would
thank him for running up to the city -- and quit feeling sorry for herself.
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I thought I heard a faint
whimper.
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"Lordie, I'm losing
it!" I groaned.? "Better help me quick."
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Hubby moved into the room,
unzipping his jacket slightly.? ? A small, chocolate snout escaped the
jacket.? A tiny tongue snaked out, slurping the bottom of hubby's cheek.
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Little Guy was home after
all!?
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"Happy Valentine's Day,
Honey!"? Hubby handed him over.
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Ah, finally!? He was
home.? And this was where he belonged.
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I examined every little piece
of him.? I'd forgotten how soft the pads of a new puppy were.? The
'puppy breath.'? And those innocent baby blue eyes!
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He was precious.? I was
hooked.
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* * * * *
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Little Ben came home to us on
Valentine's Day, six years ago.? What no one knew was that I'd been going
through a really difficult time in my life.? Ben was my blessing, arriving
into my life at the perfect moment.
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'Beaner' remains a daily
blessing for all of us.? He watches over and stands guard for his Labrador sister,
Frisco.? At 13, she moves slow these days.? Her joints are
tired.? He alerts her when company arrives, as she has lost most of her
hearing.? Ben has always thought she was his mother, as she was seven when
he arrived.
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We've learned to spell when
he's around, because he knows all the *good* words.? At only 35 pounds, he
looks like a young pup still.? He's adorable, pigeon toes and all.?
And you haven't seen anything until you see him *prance.*? Oh, yeah.
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Beaner brings me gifts from the
Great Outdoors.? I haven't been too successful in teaching him not
to.? He proudly delivers his gifts, dropping them at my feet.
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This innocent, tiny mutt stole
my heart on sight.? And I gladly handed it over.
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He is Ben, Thief of the Heart.
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I confess.? I love my
little thief!
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You know, some believe an
animal is just that.? An animal.? I disagree.? Animals are
teachers.? They teach us unconditional love.? They teach us about
life and death.? They teach us how to heal.
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They show us how to move on,
too.? Have you ever seen a three-legged dog sitting around feeling sorry
for himself?? Nope.? He adjusts and moves forward with what he has.
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My friend, never, ever
underestimate the power of a blessing brought into your life.? Our Maker
knows when the time is right.? He knows what we need.? And He knows
when we need it.
Darlene Arechederra
darone@swbell.net
dar@RatRaceRemedies.com
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Darlene Arechederra leads the delightful series, "Coming Home: A Woman's
Journey to One-Income Living."? Women of two-income households who
want to find their way back home from the workplace will enjoy this gentle,
energizing jumpstart.? Visit with Darlene at http://AffordToStayHome.com
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~**~**~
Poetry Contest Section
~**~**~
Saga of Love? ?
by Rashmi Kayala
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Your glittering eyes
Captivates me
Tender moments of you and I
Like a river flowing through time
The thought of you enthralls me
With every sweeping mass of
clouds
And I stare at your picture
In my room with a smile
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I reminisce
Fond memories of last fall
when we held hands and walked the
trails
Whilst the scent of flowers
filled the air
And myriad petals blew away in
the breeze
The gentle touch of our hearts
Unveiled a sweet revelation
We were in love
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But ever since you??™ve been gone
Days are long
And nights even longer
Through the glass pane,
I see a burst of rain
? Swiftly you flash by me
And I stare at your picture
In my room with a smile
rashmi@kayala.org? ?
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~**~**~
The Forgotten Smile
by Rashmi Kayala
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Untainted love
Lucid and divine
Her presence engulfs us
Like the dawn whose emergence is
certain
Her love lingeringly bright and
eternal
Sounds of agony escape her
as she wanders along many
pathways
I comprehend,
a sudden pause of silence in my
life
a lost paradise
Without her the atmosphere is
cold and flat
Akin to a dusty mirage
A door appears hazily
One step closer
My self-reflection, I see
She brought the lost smile to my
face
Like a Cheshire cat.
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My Bio
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Rashmi Kayala
Digital Artist
email:rashmi@kayala.org
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I am a Science graduate from India. Married, and moved to USA in the year 2000. I am a resident of California for over 3 years
now. Being an art lover, I chose to be an artist by profession. As a
self-taught artist, I enjoy painting oil on canvas, watercolors and I am a
Photoshop fanatic. Also, a recent Cosmetology graduate. I? have an
abounding desire for creativity and I relish the feeling of being immersed in
the field of art.
Honestly, I am an amateur writer
in the process, still learning to craft the art of writing.? As a child, I
always? had an inclination to literary arena but back then, I probably had
a stronger urge to explore the field of art and design. So be it. Today, I take
pride in my art and I feel blessed with this passion. However, I never stopped
myself from pursuing? to write. I? savored? my
writings? for? friends and family.? But that wouldn't make me a
writer, I knew.? I had to initiate a step? to make it happen.? So,
I am here today among the skilled writers hoping to learn? from them the
art and craft of? writing.
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For my readers, I'd like to share
a few lines that mean a lot to me: Writing- the art of
communicating thoughts to the mind, through the eye- is a great invention of
the world.... Great, very great in enabling us to converse with the dead, the
absent, and the unborn, at all distances of time and space; and great not only
in its direct benefits, but greatest help, to all other inventions.
- ABRAHAM LINCOLN
Please feel free to visit my blog
to view some of my writings and artworks. Thanks for contributing your time!
Blog: http://www.rashmikayala.blogspot.com
FOR WRITING -"ASPIRATIONS"
http://www.rashmi-kayala.blogspot.com
FOR? ARTWORKS -"POSSESSIONS"
http://www.rashkayala.blogspot.com? FOR
WRITERS TO? INTERPRET MY ART-"INSPIRATIONS-THE REALM OF
IMAGINATION"
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~**~**~
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Senior Writers
Chief writer: Sharon Bryant
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Agee, Vance; Apted, Violet;
Baker, Kathy; Batt, Al; Berry, Nell; Blaine, Pamela; Boda, Ginger; Buhagiar,
Victor; Cassady, B.J.; Cavalera, Robyn; Crider, Mark; Deming, Barb; Doherty,
Maria; Gilbert, Robert, Jr.; Goodier, Steve; Braun-Haley, Ellie; Harris, Kathy
Anne; Hunt, Sharlett; Hymes, Christina; Jacobson, Gary; Kiser, Roger Dean;
Kerens, Claudia; Kevin, Tim; Jenkins, Pamela; Liles, Norma; Lily Jodi Flesberg;
Lock, Joyce; Mazzella, Joe; Morris, Deepak; Ojeibge, Georgewaters; Petry,
Dianna Doles; Roberts, Susan; Shiveley, Debra; Shaw, Bob; Sims, Richard;
Streidel, Saskia; Swarner, Ken; Vaknin, Sam; Verhoeff, Jan; Walker, Bill;
Walker, Joe; Warner, Gordon, K; Walsh, Sue; Weymouth, Barbara J.; Whirity,
Kathy; White Robert;
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Storytime Tapestry Staff
Carol Roach -
Founder/publisher
Thelma Hartselle - Co-Founder,
Moderator
Clara Westerfer ??“ moderator
Bob Johnston - moderator
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