Out the Other Side

As it turned out, Eugenia had enough time to relive every moment spent with the inventor of the bubble, and quite a lot of time left over to imagine their next meeting. And the one after that. His bubble may have saved her from a watery grave, but it took its own sweet time delivering her back to dry land. But deliver her it did, and she reckoned that she'd used the time pleasantly enough.

Still and all, she wasn't above teasing him a bit when they finally did meet up again; she couldn't help asking if there were other things about him that were designed to take just as long. The look he gave her told her that there just might be a thing or two; good thing Bronwyn wasn't anywhere around or she'd never hear the end of it.

He handed her a box with a sly smile, saying how much he appreciated her testing his bubble (and not breaking it), and wondering out loud if she'd ever thought about venturing into a hotter sphere. She briefly considered throwing the box at him, unopened, but remembering how well his bubble had worked, and, given that her Flights of Fancy had been mighty erratic lately, she decided to keep it.

Slipping the ring on her finger she looked up at him and said, "Can you guarantee that things will heat up if I wear it?"

If you'd like to read the previous adventures of Eugenia, check out Flight of Fancy and Time and Tides.

© 2012 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Surfer Girl

Jenna twisted her hair into a knot and tied it back, out of her eyes. Ends stuck out at odd angles, but she couldn't be bothered with that; as long as it couldn't get in her face, she was happy. Her hair was waist length, blonde, and full of split ends, but it suited her. It was easy, and she liked things like hair to be easy.

She kicked off her flip flops, stripped off her jeans and t-shirt and pulled on her wetsuit. Waving to friends who were just arriving, she picked up her board and walked toward the ocean, leaving her stuff in a pile on the sand. It would be there when she got back; it always was, and if someone needed those jeans enough to take them, that was okay, too.

She waded in, dropped her board, and paddled out to wait for a wave.

© 2012 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel focal bead by Lisa Peters ART.

Dance 'til dawn

Analisa smiled as she pulled the zipper up the last few inches and fastened the hook at the top. She spun around, feeling the silk of her skirt swish and swirl around her thighs, gently caressing her skin. Holding her arms as if the man of her dreams were in them, she danced around the room; the walls fell away and candlelight replaced the harsh overhead lighting in her bedroom.

The dress was magic.

She slipped on her shoes, and fastened a bracelet around her wrist. Tonight was her night to shine; the dress promised romance, and she believed.

© 2011 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Tribangle

Emilyanne loved to dance.

She loved to throw her head back, close her eyes and feel the music moving through her, wild and free. She made up the steps as she went along; she moved as though her muscles were a viscous liquid beneath her skin. Her arms were stringed instruments; her feet, percussive.

There was no difference between sound and movement when Emilyanne danced; she was the music given shape, she was the dance given voice. There was no beginning, there was no end; there was only now, right now.

She never wanted to stop.

© 2011 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel
Lampwork beads by Melissa Vess, Seed beads, bead-woven.

Flowers from a friend

Eleanor opened her eyes and took stock; she was still here. Not that here was a bad place to be; all in all, she was glad to be here, she just couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment with her life that had been plaguing her lately. It wasn't anything she could put her finger on; nothing was wrong, exactly, it just wasn't quite right, either.

She sighed.

She couldn't even do depression right these days. That was it in a nutshell; she just didn't feel right about things any more. Everything was just a little bit off; not enough off to make it worthwhile to call attention to it and do something about it, but just enough off to make her sigh instead of smile.

She just wished that someone would notice her; she realized with a start that she desperately needed flowers from a friend. Since she couldn't make someone else send them to her, she decided to send flowers to someone else who might want them, and, perhaps, make their day. With a wry grin, Eleanor launched herself out of bed and arranged delivery.

© 2011 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel
Polymer Clay bead by Ivy Koehn of iKandiClay. Beadwoven.