Category: Literature

The Problem With Love – short story

This story is dedicated to Someone who enjoys my writing, Melissa. I hope you enjoy :).

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the Problem With Love.

By Isabella Shores

She ducked down behind the curtain as he looked up at her window.  The new neighbour.  The Adonis!  The most beautiful boy on earth!

Sitting on her bed, homework piled around her, her heart pounding with that one glance, she wondered if he would be at school tomorrow….her school?  Which class?  He looked her age.  Would he be in her class?  She melted with excitement, and that’s when it happened the first time.

At school the next day, an hour in to the morning, her teacher startled her up from her book by tapping his ruler on his desk.  As she looked up she saw him.  Dark, tall, lanky even.  Dark fringe falling over one eye.  She caught his blush as he was introduced to the class and saw his nervousness as he flicked the fringe back….the cutest thing she had EVER seen.  He looked straight at her and that’s the second time it happened.

In the Department of Psychic Reasearch they ran a load of tests on her.  The intense interest around her was palpable.  After all, not everyday did they have documented proof of levitation.  Thank heavens for mobile phones that, although meant to be handed in at the start of school had been surreptitiously stowed away, only to be brought out with all speed to capture the schoolgirl floating 3ft off the floor.

Nothing they did could induce her to rise however so they decided to go back to source; her school.

Nothing.

With promises to contact them if anything should happen again, the Department left her with her worried parents.  After discussions about new schools and changes in diets, the mother calmed down enough to let her go back to normal life.  Quite rightly her father pointed out that moving her now could just make the situation worse.

The next time it happened was in the school gym.  Playing basketball against the boys, the girls were losing if only slightly.  She had the ball and as she tried for the net her hand brushed against Alan’s.  The ball was tipped into the basket very easily as she was almost level with it.

The girls team was furious.  Being disqualified for cheating was not what they had in mind and she was banned from the team.

As she grew into a young woman she left to go to college.  Levitation was almost forgotten as she carved out a new life.  However, when she left college to head for university, and saw him across campus, heard the screams from below her, she finally put two and two together.  It was Alan causing it.  She needed to meet him, talk, perhaps that would stop it.  If she saw he was not as gorgeous in real life as she had made him it to be, then she would come back to earth.

the next time she saw him was later that week where, with her pockets full of rocks and her bag filled with Dumbbells she had borrowed from the gym, she plucked up her courage and found him in the library.  He smiled shyly at her and then caught her hand as she started to rise.  Dragging her down beside him he whispered, ‘it’s me, isn’t it?’

They stuck together through uni and got good jobs close to each other, meeting for lunch every day.  She kept a silk belt on so if she got over happy he could bring her back down, gently.

He asked her to marry him whilst on a fairground ride, whilst strapped in.  Took 6 sessions of loops and whirls before she could leave it.  They both felt quite ill afterwards but she was now promised to him.

They married outside, in the formal gardens of the local Hall.  At the wedding the bride and groom looked resplendent in their bridal wear saying their vows

She was at her happiest.  The best day of her life and, when they reached towards each other, they both smiled softly, thankful for the gold padlock and chain around their ankles, holding them at ground level.

Behind them,  40 guests gently rose above their chairs.

 

 

 

 

Art? What’s up with that?

If art is to nourish the roots of our culture, society must set the artist free to follow his vision wherever it takes him.
John F. Kennedy

John F Kennedy said that society must set the artist free to follow his vision wherever it takes him but who, and what, is an artist and art? Every forum I have ever been on has had this question thrown up at one time or another and some of the answers are … well just strange.

Since time immemorial we have drawn. We capture moments, tell people stories, open our hearts using art or words. Before we spread the words with words the ruling people of the day would send out picture cards with threats, news, events. We call these cards now ‘Tarot’ but, back then when people were mainly illiterate, they were the leaflet of the day.

Cave drawings are turned up now and then from eons ago, where the hunters of the day would show the family and tribe what had happened on the last hunting trip. In medieval times people spent hours creating tapestries depicting large battles. When we started printing, illustrations became an important addition, bringing books to people to whom the written word was still foreign…or, for that matter, allowing foreigners to detach meaning.

[su_box title=”Cardinal Turrecremata” style=”noise” radius=”17″]The first illustrated book published in Italy, Cardinal Turrecremata’s ‘Meditationes de vita Christi’, published in Rome in 1467 by Ulrich Han of Vienna (2d ed., 1473; 27.36), in which the thirty bold woodcuts serve as important aids to devout meditation.[/su_box]

Like cave painting, the first purpose of dance is probably a tribal group appeasing a spirit or accompanying a rite of passage…or a re-enactment of that weeks hunt, fight, event. Looking at the America Indian, often I have seen their dance comprises of stories….same with Chinese dance and Indian.

At present I am bedridden and yet, even now, as I look around the bedroom I see nothing but art. It’s on the designs of my curtains… the art on the wall ….the adverts on television I’m watching ….the teddy bears who were crafted, which is part of art.

I have an old antique wardrobe and there are sculptures on the panels 

My clothes have been designed with an artists mind and, over in the far corner I can see three guitars ( a classic and two electric ), a part of music which is a part of art.
Actors in the plays I watch are called artists.  The writer is master of his section of the art world.

Art is not just photography or painting with a brush on canvas.  Art encompasses a lot more than that and is all around us.  There are few places in this world we can go nowadays where there is not some form of art to see.

So the question I asked at the beginning, basically, what is art, is the question without an end. The answer is all around us in everything you look at. It could be what you are listening to now.  It could be something as small as looking at the design on the curtains in your room. It’s on the leaflet just dropped through your door. It’s on the billboards and notices in the cities and towns. It is in the words on the page you are reading now.

This to me is art.  What is it to you?