Eccentric Tea Woman

  My guide and I stepped out of what looked to be an overgrown rosebush and faced a Japanese-styled house. The house exuded a sense of calm as we took off our shoes and entered.  Hello, I called out, is anyone here? He is, my guide replied, and apparently has been waiting for us. We were next.  I nodded and we walked further into the house. Paintings of cranes sparsely decorated the walls, while the scent of jasmine greeted my nose. We finally found an older man seated before a low table in the back room. His eyes were focused on the teapot and three cups on the table, only to suddenly look up at us and smile. Greetings, he said, and welcome to this home. I am the caretaker of this house. Please, sit and have a cup of tea with me.  We sat across from him and watched as slowly poured our fragrant cups of tea into the cups, then handed a cup to each of us. I bowed my head and then took a small sip. Vegetal green and just bloomed jasmine flowers tickled my lips and tongue.  My task is to

  I have seen him in my dreams So much a normal part of my night, now. He still scares me. His eyes, green, verdant, powerful -  They to me with emotions I have never felt When I was alone. The figure in my dreams hunts me down Night after night, yet smiles when he captures me As if he holds a fit of laughter So close in check. His long, twisted hair, fans softly across my cheek Sighs, long, drawn out, a longing Terrible hunger, unable to quench This Lord of the Green, Dionysus in the flesh. Madness, it comes for me Through the eyes of green, staring, holding me Bound, wrapped in His pagan arms. Am I feeling love for the first time? Or, is this the last? He smells of musk, freshly turned earth, Kisses made of water, magic And Death. Rough, calloused hands, made dark by moonlight Touch my face, that same smile lingers As a torment to my existence. Still, he does not tell me of the secret, The why of the smile, damn, forever Like Paradise Lost, Milton’s sacrificial lamb. “Make me a Furie

 BookBar is a bookstore for wine lovers and a wine bar for book lovers. I didn't get it until I finally visited the cute bookstore on Tennyson Street in Denver on a sunny Saturday morning. As soon as I walked in, I felt strangely at home. Not because of the wine (I'm allergic), but because of the energy the place exudes. Actually, let me back up a little. Tennyson Street is one of those areas in Denver in which you could spend an entire day - restaurants, pet stores, parks, bookstores, and other places to delight your senses. The more I explore Denver, the more I'm seeing pockets like Tennyson Street. Havens of Third Places for people who need a break from their work and home. BookBar consists of books galore plus a cafe that serves all kinds of drinks, both non-alcoholic and alcoholic, and you want to find a table and just chill. I wandered through the bookstore, not really looking for anything in particular, until I reached the local authors' section. I located a supe

  (starting a new collection of short stories. Hope you enjoy!) I remember the first time. Don't we all? Don't we all want to remember the first time we fell through the grey gauze, stumbled actually, and landed in another world? Another world that had stood in silence next to ours for so long, yet we on this side never knew of it? I think we were cheated. We were told to be born, grow up, learn everything that didn't matter to us, grow old, and die so that others would have a shot at being miserable.  I woke up. And saw. And fell. When I finally stopped rolling, I looked around and wanted to cry. A sky the colour of a ripe lemon. Massive trees that swayed in jasmine-scented breezes. A multicoloured teapot lay next to me. I got up to a seated position, then took the teapot in my hands and studied it. So, I said to myself and watched the words trip out of my mouth and fly away, this is what the other side looks like.  Yes, it does, said a voice from all around me.  I quickly

  Monday. That day when everything in the world seemed to reset itself. That day when you looked forward to a new week ahead and wondered how it could all go wrong. That's what went through Simone's mind as she opened her eyes from a good and long night of sleep. She felt the dread creeping over her, some unknown malady that slowly sunk its claws into her body. She stared at the cracks in the ceiling. Monday, she sighed. That dread now covered most of her body as she rolled out of bed and trudged toward the bathroom to get dressed. It seemed only yesterday when she had stars in her eyes at the thought that finally, she would begin working on her third novel after so much praise for her first two. Yet, after selling her idea for the third book to her publisher six months ago, she began to feel dread about it. And, that dread always seemed to come on a Monday - her nemesis. To the rest of the world, Monday was just another day yet to her, it was a reminder to get cracking on a no