Angel’s Cove- by Sebnem Sanders

Thank you very much, SickLit Magazine for publishing my story. I love the photo! 🙂

SICK LIT MAGAZINE

Angel’s Cove

by Sebnem Sanders

Without a pre-set destination, I escaped from the city and drove down the highway. Sitting behind the wheel for hours, my hopes of finding a place that might inspire me had almost diminished. I took the next exit and turned into a country road. Cruising slowly on the scenic route, I came across a blue board that said Angel’s Cove.

Turning right, I followed the winding path that took me up the hills and down them, on the other side. A bird’s eye view of a village appeared in the distance. A rivulet shining like a silver beam ran through the middle of the settlement, all the way to the sea. Idyllic.

I parked the car and walked along the canal. Charming two-story buildings and cottages with thatched roofs and small gardens. Multi-coloured blooms cascaded down their windows and low fences, filling the air with…

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Strawberry Moon

Tags

amreading, amwriting, anthology, devotion, Flash Fiction, flower children, full moon, illness, life, love, Ripples on the Pond, separation, strawberry moon, summer of love, summer solstice

I didn’t realize this full moon was Strawberry Moon, again. No wonder it looked a lovely pink. The photos I took early this morning don’t do any justice to its beauty., but here they are:

Strawberry Moon, 17-18 June, 2019, Marmaris

So I thought, I’d share my story Strawberry Moon, from Ripples on the Pond , again, to celebrate this rare celestial wonder.

 

 Photos by courtesy of Daily Mail, i.dailymail.co.uk

 

 

It’s strawberry picking time. As the longest day flows into the evening and the sunset paints the sky with strokes of peach and apricot hues, we settle into our viewing spot on top of the hill. Munching on berries, washed down with wine, we wait for the full moon to appear on the eve of the solstice. A rare, natural combination, some say last took place on the Summer of Love in 1967.

 

You and I were so young then. We did not know what the future held for us. Our dreams inspired by California Dreaming, the floral prints on my dress and your shirt matched the flowers in our long hair. We wanted peace in the world. It didn’t happen, did it? Still, we had love and peace in our home, so I can’t complain.

 

Our work is done now, we are retired. It’s time for our children to bring up theirs. Their lives are tougher than ours. The world is in a state of chaos. The flower children have become senior citizens, with disillusionment in their eyes. Yet, when I look into yours, I still see the same sparkle that hasn’t faded over the years. You never give up, do you? Your optimism is infectious, despite the sinister illness that threatens to steal you from me. I’m done with protesting and denial. After the struggle to hold back tears and anger, acceptance arrived and sorrow moved into the background. To enjoy you and the last of our days, my only wish now, I don’t want to distress you with my grief.

 

A honey-coloured moon rises from behind the island. I hold your hand, not knowing whether we’ll see another summer solstice together again. I hope to, but- Threads of shimmering beams sketch a spiral avenue of light on the water. It widens as the orange sphere ascends the sky. This must be the road to enlightenment you talk about. You have taught me to look at things from a different perspective.

 

The golden colour of the moon turns to white as it moves higher. A pleasure boat crosses the bay, melodies and laughter lingering in its wake. Is this what life is about, leaving traces of our existence behind, only to be remembered by those we love?

 

Love, you say, is precious and rare. Some don’t know how to nurture it. We have managed to cherish ours, despite the challenges of married life.

 

It’s time to go home now, my love. You need to rest and build up strength. I will not think of tomorrow. Being in the moment keeps me going. I won’t dwell on what I’ll do or how I’ll cope without you. I’ll deal with that when the time comes.

 

You give me that smile again, the one that warms my heart. You’ve read my thoughts and you say, “We should come back here, on the next full moon.”

 

I release the brake of the wheelchair and turn it around. I push it gently down the path. One moment at a time.

Writer’s Dilemma

Tags

acceptance, cruelty, disappointment, losing heart, patience, rejections, sadness, terrorism, waiting, Writer's dilemma

https://www.facebook.com/LitRejections/?fref=nf

Sometimes ambition is not taken away by rejection, but by the cruelty of mankind.

‪#‎PrayForNice

 

 

Read, read, read,

Write, write, write,

Edit,

Review,

Submit –

Wait,

Wait … wait … wait …

Silence –

tweet, post, like, join,

edit, re-write, upload –

Submit,

SILENCE –

they don’t like me,

they don’t like my work …

Bombs, explosions, cruelty …

sadness, frustration, Anger –

Patience …

Acceptance –

never mind, carry on,

write, write, write,

Publish,

Smile ….

Nausea

Tags

arms, chaos, devastation, human values, lunacy, nausea, news, peace, reason, sanity, sorrow, turmoil, war, words

Cover of the

Hardback Edition, 178 pages

Published June 1969 by New Directions Publishing (first published 1938)

 

 

 

I used to get angry at Sartre

for writing prose under that title

I no longer do

because I get nausea every time I read the news,

the balance of my bank account

seems less catastrophic

compared with what’s happening in the world,

here, there and everywhere

In need of a saviour to forget the misery,

I cling to words like a life jacket,

and try to create a world where

things happen differently,

not an utopia,

but one where values still exist

to encourage me that all the things

I have learned have not gone to waste.

 

I want to change it all,

return it back to sanity,

but I’m powerless with my weak voice

against the chorus of lunacy

 

Shall I accept it and keep quiet?

What about integrity and perseverance?

Don’t they no longer matter,

the things that make us human?

So the pen seems to be the only weapon

against the arms that create havoc on Gaia

Maybe someone will listen and ponder,

watching the devastation of dust and fumes,

after the guns have exploded.

 

Words, he said, as well,

so I listen to the master’s voice,

and try to cure my nausea

with my only tool to bring reason

to the madness that surrounds us,

despite the turmoil of wars.

King of Hearts – by SEBNEM SANDERS (S.E. SANDERS)

Many thanks to Sick Lit Magazine for publishing my story. 🙂

SICK LIT MAGAZINE

King of Hearts

Annoyed with the dismal news on the television, Joe grabbed the remote and switched it off. Tapping his fingers on the table of the hospital bed, he pondered on what to do next. Time warped and stretched infinitely in the ward, as various illnesses spread inside the bodies of the patients at the speed of light. Book or magazine?  Book, another life story to delve into. A temporary remedy to ignore his own one.

As he turned to the bedside table to browse the unread paperbacks, the bald head of a child appeared through the doorway. Big blue eyes, above a white mask covering the rest of his face, he peeked into the room.

“Hey, alien child, what are doing on my stage? Planning some kind of burglary?”

“I’m exploring the building.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be upstairs with the other alien kids?”

“I’m not an alien…

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Soothing Waters

Tags

awareness, fireballs, learning, pain, seapeople, soothing, sorrow, the sea, water

 

The leaves of the tall eucalyptus trees lining the narrow lane sang an unfamiliar song in the warm breeze. Murmurs, mutterings of ghosts from another life, in a quaint language I had not heard before, yet understood.

“Come,” they said, “just follow the road.”

So I did, though it was twilight, but fear didn’t cross my mind. Where the eucalyptus trees ended, a horse carriage waited. The driver beckoned me with a smile. I rode the cab that took me down the path between the orange groves all the way to the edge of the sea.

I thanked him and stepped down. The full moon illuminated the beach and the waters of the bay. To the right, colourful beams of life from the slow town danced upon the water, to the left a haphazard array of dim lights twinkled like fireflies on the ancient sites.

There was music without music. I sat facing the full moon, my eyes drifting between the shores.

Then I saw Marvin, walking to the shore from the sea.

 

“How did you know I was here?” I asked.

“We have ways of understanding,” he said.

“Did you come to see me?”

“Yes, and to extinguish the fires.”

“What fires? There are no fires here.”

“Fires are everywhere, we help people deal with the pain.”

“You mean…”

“You know what I mean…”

“Where do they go?”

“There are many places, it depends on who they are.”

“I came back to find you and you were gone.”

“We cannot stay in the same place for longer than we have to.”

“So will you be gone again now?”

“I must, but this is so that you know I exist.”

“I know you do, but I couldn’t prove it.”

“Proof in the third dimensional existence is difficult. Awareness is unable to produce such physical evidence.”

“Will there be more fireballs? More sorrow?”

“I’m afraid so. Until they learn.”

Marvin stroked my hair and kissed me. Then he rose, and bowed his head, a farewell smile lingering on his face before he disappeared into the sea.

In the emptiness, I watched the moon’s reflection on the bay and pondered.

Still so much water to extinguish the pain of fire, despite the many more fireballs to come.