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Reading books fiction Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you donā€™t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself.



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Read books online Ā» Fiction Ā» Longing For December by Shelia Burket (librera reader TXT) šŸ“–

Book online Ā«Longing For December by Shelia Burket (librera reader TXT) šŸ“–Ā». Author Shelia Burket



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again.ā€
She picks up her journal and begins to write:
Iā€™ve never felt so aloneā€¦when Iā€™m busy with the kids or painting or with my writing the pain and emptiness is dulled. When Iā€™m alone and it is quiet the pain is almost unbearable. Thereā€™s an empty space inside of me, one that may never be filled again. I hear the birds singing and see the sun easing over the mountaintops, a new day is coming over the horizon. Will it be a new day for me? I must be strong for the children, but what about me? I feel guilty for wanting to be held, but I do want to be held. I want a shoulder to lean on.
Once a long time ago, before Ryan, I loved someone, my first love. My mind and heart keeps taking me back to the moments that we shared. Iā€™ve often thought of him and wandered about him, what heā€™s doing, if he ever thinks of me. Heā€™s always had a special place in my heart. I want to reach out to him; I wouldnā€™t know where to begin. Iā€™m afraid, Ryan was the first and the only man that I ever made love to. Iā€™ve never been with another man; the thought of it paralyzes me. Blake once held me, when I was a young girl. He held me, I felt so safe in his arms. He made me tremble when he touched me, he scared me. I was afraid of how he made me feel. I could hardly breathe when he was near me.ā€ She sits in the silence around her and remembers him. The silence is broken as the children awake one by one as the daylight pierces through their windows. She heads to the kitchen to start breakfast, stealing hugs on the way. Everyoneā€™s off! Silence, she sighsā€¦ a few more cups of coffee before the day get started. She snuggles up with Clyde, coffee in hand, grandmaā€™s quilt wrapped around them. The kids are off to school all is quiet on the home front.
Savanna retreats to her escape for a long hot bath. She pins her hair up, readjusting yesterdays ā€˜doā€™, turns the radio to classical hits and turns on the water. In a white terry cloth robe she walks through the house and turns off the ringers on the phones. Time to relaxā€¦Out of the second drawer in the bathroom she finds a box of matches. She begins to light the candles that consume the every available space in her tiny blue bathroom. Two beautiful golden candle operas sit on her counter top, one on each side of a large oval mirror trimmed in gold. She unrobed and enters her paradise. The water that surrounds her massages her every muscle with its intense heat. The aromas of calming lilac fill her senses. The cities of floating bubbles go by her silently as if she werenā€™t there among them. Only the light of the candle operas, lights the small room of escape. Steam rises from her naked body. She looks at her red toenails sliding her big toe inside the faucet. A thought of disaster flashes through her mind as a fire truck arrives busting her bathroom door down. ā€œThatā€™d be great,ā€ she laughs, maybe theyā€™d be cute, or at least the one that pulls my toe from the faucet,ā€ she giggles to herself. ā€œA man in uniform, I could do that,ā€ she convinces herself. ā€œA man periodā€¦ā€ she sighs. ā€œA real man, with hands that get dirty not manicured one that can throw me over his shoulder like a caveman, whew!ā€ ā€œWell maybe at least sweep me off my feet.ā€ Itā€™s been a long time since Iā€™ve been swept,ā€ she laughs out loud.
After her relaxing bath Savanna slips into a pair of worn Leviā€™s, flip-flops, a white tank and a large white sweatshirt, her summer/fall attire. Grabbing her keys she is off to work. Painting seemed to be therapeutic; it took her mind off of unpleasant things. It was Friday, thank God! She looked forward to the weekend, the kids were going to grandmaā€™s, it was overdue for some ā€œme timeā€. Harmony was coming over to spend the day to hang out and do the ā€œgirl thingā€. Later they planned to get together with Tia, Crissy and Sierra for dinner and a chickā€™s flick! Three oā€™clock, Savanna closes the shop early and heads home. She stops at the drive through and picks up McDonaldā€™s for the kids and is on her way. Sheā€™s home by 3:30pm the kids run to the car,ā€ Did you get us cheeseburgers? Cassandra asks as she plunges towards the car. ā€œOkay, get back guysā€, she motions. Savanna feeds the kids and grabs a mocha iced coffee from then fridge. She heads for her well worn recliner and kicks out the footrest. ā€œMommy arenā€™t you hungry?ā€Oh honey, Iā€™m restingā€, she smiles. ā€œIs mama Oliver coming?ā€ ā€œYes sweetie, go ahead and call her.ā€ ā€œCaden are you going?ā€ Iā€™m gonna run up later, were playing tonight at Billā€™s.ā€Cyle is your bag packed?ā€ Almost he yells unconvincingly.ā€ Hurry up honey okay?ā€ Okay momā€.
The days light began to fade and Savannaā€™s mother arrived to pick the kids up for the weekend. At last she owns the eveningā€¦ā€What to doā€, she wanders to herselfā€¦ She picks up her journal and finds an empty page, she pauses and lights a cigarette. She picks up a gold pen to write;

Sometimes I wander what my life would have been like if I had chosen a different road, but then everything would be differentā€¦..good and bad. If Blake and I hadnā€™t taken separate roads in life then the children that Ryan and I had together would not exist, Ryan and I would never have been. God has a plan for our lives and we are not to question it. I am thankful for the life that Ryan and I have shared, but I am alone now. Iā€™ve never felt so alone. I want to hear the sound of laughter again, to feel the sun on my face and smile. I want to feel the arms of love around me and know I have a soft place to fall.

She sighs and her mind drifts back to another place and time. She closes her eyes and dreams of him. His piercing blue eyes penetrate her soul. She feels his soft lips against hers, then on her neck, she feels his warm breath against her skin. She sighs again, opening her eyes she sees the amber horizon in the distance and wanders if he remembers her. He stares into his coffee, black, no sugar, as his index finger taps the side repeatedly. He remembers herā€¦her auburn hair, fare skin, her perfect lips. He longs for her. He sips his coffee; he too wanders what his life would have been like, had they not parted. Would she have married him? Would she have bore his children? Would she have loved him, does she still love him? All these questions race through his mind. He had married, had a son, his life had been a good one, but still he thought of her. His marriage was not what he imagined it to be and it had ended after six years. He shakes his head and sighs, ā€œSavannaā€, he says out loud, where are you?ā€™
Time had not altered the love that they once shared. Memories lingered in the air like an old song playing softly calling them home. Both Savanna and Blake separated by time and distance were together in a dream they shared. Two stubborn hearts beating together as one. Would fate bring their lives full circle?
The phone rings, reality jars Blake back to the everyday grind of a work day. ā€œBlake Danielsā€, he answers. ā€œDadā€ a familiar voice is on the other end. ā€œWhat time do you get off?ā€ he asks.ā€ Around sevenā€, Blake says to his son Jake. ā€œHowā€™s pizza sound?ā€ no onions okay?ā€ Okay no onions just sardinesā€, Blake laughs. ā€Oooh! Yuckā€, Jake fake coughs. ā€œIā€™m kiddingā€ Blake laughs again. He hangs up the phone and shuffles the papers in front of him. He opens his desk drawer and takes out a pack of cigarettes. He lights up and stares into the distance. Miles of towering office buildings soon become a blur. He is far away from the city, he is home again. He takes a drag from his Marlboro red, putting his feet on his desk he leans back and in his mind he searches for her. He was 19, the day is hot with a warm breeze. He takes her by her tiny hand, he softly kisses her fingers. He crushes his cigarette. A sadness lies within him. He lights up again, its 6:45, he calls it a day. Blake heads home picking up a pizza along the way. His mind still drifts back to the love he left behind. He tries to picture her now, sure that the years had been kind to her. Would she remember me, he asks himself. It was so long ago. I hurt her, would she forgive me? We were so young, he whispers. A part of him wants to find her, wants to see if the flame that once existed would still burn as bright as it did in the days of their youth. Another part of him was scared. ā€œWhat if she hates me?ā€ He pounds his hand on the steering wheel. He wanders if she ever thinks of the summer they fell in love. Is there a moment in her day where she pauses and thinks of him?
The cool September air accompanied by the mornings first sunlight was a reminder that fall was just around the corner. Barely out of August, the morning air was turning a bit chilly as the evening air too was feeling change. She sips her coffee enjoying the tranquility that every morning brings. The phone rings, itā€™s Harmony her best friend. They had planned to spend the day together. ā€œHelloā€ Hey, are you up?ā€ Yeah, Iā€™m on my third cup of coffee.ā€ Iā€™ll be over in about twenty minutes.ā€ Iā€™ll be here.ā€ Heading for the coffee pot cup in hand she yawns and refills her cup. Opening the refrigerator door and squinting from the annoying bright light, she takes out the eggs, bacon, cheese and a yellow tomato. ā€œHmmā€¦ā€ did I use the last onion?ā€ searching underneath the sink among a mountain of grocery bagsā€Aha!ā€ In an orange mesh bag, three Vidalia onions are the answer to her omelet prayers. In the oven are all the pots and pans piled in no obvious order. She shuffles to find a non-stick skillet. Making enough noise to wake the dead she found her skillet, but not before unloading the entire oven. She hears a car pull into the driveway. Itā€™s Harmony. ā€œGoodā€, she grumbles to herself. ā€œIā€™ll put her to work!ā€ ā€œKnock; knockā€ Harmony opens the door ā€œIn the kitchenā€ Savanna yells.ā€Hey girlā€ ā€œNeed some help?ā€ I think I got it under controlā€ Are you sure?ā€ Yeah, Iā€™ll get itā€ I brought my scrapbook stuff; itā€™s in the car if you want to dig out your junk laterā€. ā€œThatā€™s coolā€. ā€œIā€™ve been wanting to go through the pictures in the attic, I just havenā€™t got around to it yet.ā€ Breakfast is ready and on the table. Coffee, O.J., toast and an omelet to die for. ā€œOh gosh, that smells so good!ā€ ā€œI know I wasnā€™t even really hungry until I smelled it, now Iā€™m starved!ā€ Savanna and Harmony at breakfast talked and laughed. It was good to laugh. Friendship has
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