Leaving an opening

Mari's instinct for self-protection was only semi-developed; she was always finding herself in situations that made more sensible people cringe. Not that she was a disaster waiting to happen; no Mari's luck was extremely well-developed, and she nearly always came through the strangest situations, totally unscathed.

Or so we thought. In reality, her armor was impenetrable. If there was an opening, no one ever found it.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Chain maille ring from sterling silver, with labradorite. Hand fabricated.

Greta Sails

She was all alone on the deck of the ship, taking the morning air with the rest of the passengers; the endless sea rolling, rolling, rolling on all sides of her, blue and green and silver in the sunlight. If she closed her eyes, she could see Johannes and the children back in Denmark: waking up, eating their breakfasts, and working, working, working to make enough money to follow her to America.

She would labor long and hard while she waited for them; she needed so little, and the money she made would make the time apart so much shorter. She wished that she could breathe deeply enough to fill the sails with air and make the ship go faster; the sooner she began her new life, the faster the old could catch up to her.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, turquoise, black walnut bead by Joan Jensen of Tazwood Creations. Hand fabricated.

Heart's Ease

Stop Abuse


It's going on 15 years now; for the first five, he invaded my sleep and I would wake up struggling to breathe, the feeling of his hands on my throat more real than the 2500 miles I'd put between us. When I went, I left without a forwarding address. It seemed utterly unreal and dramatic; swearing my family and friends to secrecy and taking off for the opposite side of the country. I'd never lived more than 25 miles from where I was born, and suddenly I'd multiplied that by 100.

It took me ten years to leave. Looking back, there were warning signs, but they were easily explained away. He always apologized; he never knew beforehand that I was going to get upset; he was just a bit clueless. He was frustrated at work, he wasn't getting anywhere, and he was always so sorry when he brought his anger home with him. He drank too much, but he was an easy drunk. He just fell asleep, and truth be told, I encouraged him to drink; he was happier when he drank. Usually. And on the occasions when he wasn't, it was easy for me to understand. He was drunk. He didn't know what he was doing.

He never knew what he was doing, not even the night he sat on my stomach, pinned my arms to the bed with his knees, put his hands around my throat, and squeezed. He was screaming. I could not understand a word he was saying. That was what bothered me the most; I was going to die and I didn't know what I'd done to deserve it. Our dog knocked him off and saved my life. He swore he was asleep, having a nightmare about being attacked, and I wanted to believe him. He'd always walked and talked in his sleep, and he was quite horrified at what had happened. When the nightmare returned a few weeks later, bearing a large kitchen knife, I finally woke up.

After I left, I overcompensated by being hyper-sensitive to anything that reminded me of him; I still have buttons that get pushed from time to time. I'm working on that. Getting out was the best, and hardest, thing I ever did. I'm proud of that.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Necklace; sterling silver, sapphires, lampwork by Gail Kops of Beadles. Hand fabricated.

Moonstone Beach

The moonstones that once littered the beach were long gone; perhaps they had never been here in great numbers, but she preferred to think that they had. It wasn't beach weather today; the fog was heavy and wet and the sea was surly. There wasn't much warmth coming from the sand, either. But she was dressed for it; the sweatshirt under her windbreaker kept her comfortably warm. She actually preferred the beach on days like this; except for a dog who was sniffing some seaweed, she had the whole bay to herself.

As she walked, she looked hopefully for moonstones; perhaps the wind had shifted the sands and there were some left after all.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, moonstone. Hand fabricated setting and chain.

Promises, Promises

"Yeah, sure, Mom," Lyndie said, fingers crossed behind her back, only feeling a little guilty about her deception. She only did it when her mom was being totally over-protective; sometimes it felt as though her mom thought she was five years old. She was fifteen! Old enough to know who to hang out with. Old enough to pick her own friends. How pathetic did her mom think she was, anyway?

She hurried off to the bus stop; just like her mom to make her late with her little talk. As she approached the corner, she saw a cop talking to her new group of friends . . . whoa, what was up with that? Her best friend since kindergarten grabbed her and pulled her off to the side. "Bus-ted!" Karen whispered. "I'm so glad you were late this morning!"

"Me, too," Lyndie said, fingers open wide.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, peridot. Hand fabricated sterling silver chain, bead and clasp.