Book Reviews: Where Stories Meet – Fringes, Heartstrings and Lyrics – Perfect!

Hi Everyone,

In the midst of working on my own writing projects, I’m enjoying some great reading and finally finished reviews. I hope my thoughts prompt you to visit Amazon. ๐Ÿ™‚ And please know that the length of my reviews may vary from one to the other, but each of these books earned 5-stars!

Where Stories Meet curated by Marsha Ingrao is a beautiful anthology compiled of stories and poems from Story Chat Digest. The book is divided into sections that begin with an entertaining conversation which makes you feel like pulling up a chair and joining in. The topics vary from lighthearted and humorous to more reflective. What makes this anthology even more special are the writing tips we can learn from, along with questions following the stories. There is something for every reader to ponder over or resonate with. And I shouldnโ€™t dog ear books, but I do, so when I love a collection of stories and/or poems, most or even all the pages will have a corner folded over. Such is the case in this wonderful book.

I also donโ€™t like to cherry pick favorites in anthologies where several authors have come together to create a wonderful piece of work. So, I love the entire book, but one poem that stood out was โ€œWhat Would You Do Differentโ€ by Yvette Prior.

โ€œWhat would you do different โ€“ if you knew โ€“ Death was so close for you?โ€

This question and topic stayed with me, maybe because the years are piling up. Donโ€™t these words make you stop in your tracks too for a little contemplation?

Marshaโ€™s hard work is a labor of love! Another special aspect of this book is that you can read it in one day, if life allows. Or you can enjoy one story or poem at a time, as if savoring a sinfully delicious piece of homemade carrot cake topped with cream cheese frosting. Delight at your own pace. I highly recommend this wonderful anthology and congratulate Marsha and the other talented authors who contributed.

Jan Sikes has done it again in Fringes, Heartstrings, and Lyrics, a collection of short stories and poems that will prompt you to reflect upon your own life. I always enjoy Janโ€™s storytelling, and this wonderful gathering of fiction and poetry became another dog-eared book. I had many favorites, but Iโ€™ll highlight a few.

โ€œA Foreign Worldโ€ was the opening story that paused my heartbeat. In my opinion, the world and our country are changing faster than most of us can keep up. Some change is good, but some change is distressing, and this story spotlights the distressing element. When I finished, I sat in silence for a few minutes before continuing on to the next. โ€œA Promise Broken โ€“ A Promise Keptโ€ touches on love and sacrifice. โ€œMagicโ€ is simply magic, what a beautiful story, and who doesnโ€™t need a little magic in their life? The poems that stand out are โ€œButterflyโ€ for its inspiration. โ€œI Am Nearโ€ brought tears as I thought of loved ones in my family who have moved on to another life. And โ€œIโ€™ve Got Youโ€ would resonate with any loving parent.

In addition to Jan’s fiction, she included poems of her late husbandโ€™s, Rick Sikes, and her fourteen-year-old granddaughter, Sydney. โ€œThe Blind Man in the Nightโ€ by Rick Sikes offers a profound message for all. โ€œSocietyโ€ by Sydney gave me chills. I wouldnโ€™t have guessed she was only fourteen years old. Like I mentioned though, this book is dog-eared to the hilt, so youโ€™ll need to grab your own copy to read the other gems inside, and I highly recommend that you do. There is a message to takeaway for everyone from this lovely collection.

I love a good thriller as long as it’s not too graphic. One that keeps me on the edge of my seat, wondering โ€œwho dun it?โ€ Itโ€™s the narrative, the fluidity of connecting the events, the likable and believable characters, and solving the puzzle at the end. Perfect by P.J. Gudka falls into this riveting category – a captivating, emotional, psychological thriller. On her blog, Pooja writes about real life in poetry and prose, the frustrations and the celebrations. But Perfect is her first novel, and when I heard it was coming out, I couldn’t wait to read it.

This story is about secrets. What family doesnโ€™t hold secrets? And some secrets will shock the socks off of you! I could almost hear suspenseful music play in the Prologue alone, and the story hadnโ€™t even begun. I was hooked…

Lily is gasping for air; her lungs are burning. What happens next? One can assume, but I couldnโ€™t wait to find out! The intensity and storytelling kept me so engaged that I didn’t want to stop reading until I made it to the last page! But I had to put it down. Life is like that. Family, dinner, work, sleep…and still, I read this story in two days and loved it!

Imagine a family who looks perfect on the outside. And yet, regardless of the image seen by others, no one is perfect. We never know what goes on behind closed doors. Everyone has flaws, although some flaws are more dangerous. Youโ€™ll find yourself wondering about your own family. How well do you know your loved ones? “What does perfect mean to you?” A perfect partner, children, career? Money, money, and more money? Well, perfect just doesn’t exist. Our ‘perfect’ is what makes us happy, but it is different from everyone else’s description.

If youโ€™re a fan of thrillers like I am, youโ€™ll want to add this book to your library. If you shy away from suspense, be brave and let the pages entertain you (keep the lights on if you need). Pooja had me changing suspects right to the end. I thought I had it all figured out, but no. I was in for a big surprise. Talk about plot twists! Brilliant! Highly recommended for those who love rollercoaster reads!

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A little update from me, I just submitted a poetry manuscript, so we’ll see what happens. I also entered two more contests, one short story and one poetry. A conundrum is that most presses want original work, unpublished (not even on blogs). So, this is why I’m not sharing new poetry right now. But I’ll continue to share my writing, just maybe some oldies.

Like I mentioned in my interview with Gabriela, I’m using the quote from Albert Einstein: “You never fail unless you stop trying.”
So, this is the year for trying new things.

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ยฉ Lauren Scott, BaydreamerWrites.com

Lauren Scott is a recent Pushcart Prize Nominee who enjoys small-town living in the Bay Area with her husband, Matt, of thirty-seven years. Their daughter and son live out of state, and with frequent visits and technology, this family of four remains close. Lauren has published four collections of poetry, a memoir in verse and prose, and her first childrenโ€™s book. She has been a guest on several podcasts, and her writing is featured at Spillwords Press and Literary Revelations. At Spillwords Press, she was awarded Publication of the Year (Poetic 2026), Author of the Month (May 2023) and Publication of the Month (June 2025, October 2024). Her work was named Honorable Mention in The Smalls Too 2026 Poetry Contest from the California Writerโ€™s Club. Laurenโ€™s work is published in several anthologies. She is currently working on her second childrenโ€™s book and a collection of poetry. Laurenโ€™s muse discovers inspiration from family, spending time outdoors, and marveling at the mysteries of life. 

Poetry that will resonate for all pet parents.

Gobblers by Masticadores Publishes my short story, “She Sleeps”

Photo by Naga Sumanth L on Pexels.com

Good morning and Happy Thursday! I’m listening to raindrops tap dance on the roof as I type up this post. And I’m delighted to share that Editor, Manuela Timofte at Gobblers by Masticadores is featuring my short story today, “She Sleeps.” I’m always grateful to have my writing published on her esteemed site. So thank you again, Manuela, for your generosity and kindness. โค๏ธ

She Sleeps

An eerie high-pitched note whirls around in young Beckyโ€™s mind as she sleeps. The howling is earsplitting, wailing just outside her window, imitating a music score in a horror film. Not that she would know because she isnโ€™t old enough to watch scary movies, but her six-year-old imagination tells her so. The trees fall into a trance like a spell has been cast upon them. Rocking back and forth, their branches bend in unnatural ways, the tips like long, pointed fingernails scratching on the double-paned window. The howling grates on her brain like a fork scraping a plate. Raindrops pound with anger. Becky tosses and turns. She fights to stay asleep. Subconsciously, she remembers Beauty and the Beast on the wall above her headboard, the best musical ever, and how she adores Belle. Sheโ€™s carried to a happy place, slowing falling back into a deep slumber, but only temporarilyโ€ฆ

To read the full story, please click on the link below. And if you’re unfamiliar with Manuela’s site, I hope you’ll take time to peruse the various pieces of wonderful writing.

Thanks so much for your visit, and I wish you a fabulous day! ๐Ÿ’–

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ยฉ Lauren Scott, Baydreamerwrites.com

Click on my sonโ€™s image to order your copy! ๐Ÿงก

Lauren Scott
Author โ€“ King Copper: Our dogโ€™s life in poetry
Author โ€“ Coraโ€™s Quest (a childrenโ€™s book)
Author โ€“ Ever So Gently: A Collection of Poetry
Author โ€“ More than Coffee: Memories of Verse and Prose
Author โ€“ Finding a Balance: A Collection of Poetry
Author โ€“ New Day, New Dreams: A Collection of Poetry
Co-Author โ€“ Tranquility: An Anthology of Haiku
Co-Author โ€“ Petals of Haiku: An Anthology
Co-Author โ€“ This Is How We Grow
Co-Author โ€“ Poetry Treasures 2: Relationships
Bi-Monthly Contributor on Gobblers by Masticadores
Spillwords Author of the Month May 2023
Spillwords Publication of the Month October 2024
Spillwords Publication of the Month June 2025

Blog Tour: Ghosts & Miracles Past: A Christmas Collection Two by D.L. Finn

I’m thrilled to share about Denises’s new Christmas short story collection! I read the first and loved it! So, I turn the floor over to you, Denise!

Thank you for having me on your incredible blog today, Lauren, to share the release of Ghosts & Miracles Past: A Christmas Collection Two. Iโ€™m extremely grateful for your support!

In โ€œChristmas After Loss,โ€ Shelia is a widow in her early thirties. It has been a year since Randy tragically died. He had a bad heart, the doctor told her, and at the time she didnโ€™t question it. Later, though, in the quiet hours of the night, doubts surfaced. Still, Shelia did the best of running their diner and hoping to build their dream house. Christmas was two days away, and she just wanted to get through it, but her car wouldnโ€™t start. She called the only person she could think of, her husbandโ€™s friend, Sam. Rescued, she trudged through her day. Alone in the diner between the lunch and dinner crowd, she gets a customer. What he tells her is alarming. This is when she finds out who she can trust.

Miracles saturate the sweet-scented Christmas seasonโ€”a reminder we arenโ€™t alone.

Miracles & Ghosts Past: A Christmas Collection brings eight stories from past holidays. Rita buys train tickets for her and Morrisโ€™s 30th anniversary in the novelette, โ€œThe Christmas Train Mystery.โ€Sheโ€™s convinced this trip will bring her and Morris closerโ€”if he can find the time. A murder mystery excursion will change Ritaโ€™s life in more ways than one, but will she go with her workaholic husband or by herself? In the first short story, โ€œChristmas Rescue,โ€ Opal trusts the wrong man and loses her mother in the same year, leaving her feeling lost. On a mission to get candles for the dinner table, she makes an unexpected find. โ€œIs There a Santa?โ€ goes back to the 1920s, where a widower is desperate to hold on to his farm and children. He doesnโ€™t want charity, just a bit of luck or a miracle. In the final stories, youโ€™ll meet an eleven-year-old whoโ€™s home alone, a family living in the aftermath of war, a girl who gets some shocking news, a widow with a warning from beyond, and a woman trapped on an elevator with Santa. Hope underlies these stories; it endures even in the direst of circumstances. Whether help comes from a ghost, Santa, or an angel, miracles are just within reach.

When Sheila was young, she believed in miracles. Life stripped away that youthful fancy the moment her thirty-two-year-old husband died unexpectedly on Christmas Eve. She barely recognized the person sheโ€™d become. The glass had always been half full for her, and Sheila had been the optimist among her friends. It was what Randy loved best about her, and now, along with him, that optimism was gone.

Still, she managed to push the darkness back enough to get up every morning and face each day. Sheila had a business to run that allowed her to just cover the bills and hold onto the property and the trailer she and Randy had purchased, intending to build a house later. That and many other dreams were gone, but at least she still had Cuddles by her side.

โ€œI know, I know. Youโ€™re hungry,โ€ she said to the petite gray cat.

Cuddles looked at her empty bowl, and then those mesmerizing gray eyes took in Sheila.

โ€œDaddy sure spoiled you,โ€ Sheila said.

A grin almost crossed her face before the pain of the loss seeped back in and weighed down her expression.

โ€œItโ€™s gotta stop hurting so much, Cuddles . . . someday.โ€

The cat wound around her legs as if to agree as her bowl was filled.

Cuddles had won her husbandโ€™s heart when he found her on the side of a road as a kitten three years ago, and taking care of her brought Sheila some peace. She was still relatively new to the town, so there wasnโ€™t anyone to lean on other than the helpful Sam, whoโ€™d bonded with Randy the first time they met. Although at times it seemed like Sam was a little too bonded, and sheโ€™d pointed that out to Randy.

Randy had grinned. โ€œI knew guys like him in high school. Just a bit on the needy side is all. I know how to handle that, donโ€™t worry.โ€

Still, Sam remained in the pest category until Randyโ€™s passing. After losing her husband, she appreciated Samโ€™s support. As a thirty-two-year-old widow who owned and ran a cafรฉ, she didnโ€™t have much in common with the local women her age. Having Randy had always been enough, along with their dream property that included a well, pond, electrical hookup, septic, and a little stream surrounded by pines. The previous owner had planned to build before his health deteriorated.

โ€œSometimes I think this place is cursed, Cuddles. Maybe we should go back home, like my sister keeps saying. Be near friends and family. Theyโ€™d spoil you too.โ€ Sheila petted the purring cat, who was now gobbling the wet food.

The hair rose on her arms as she sensed she was being watched. Was Randy there with her? It wasnโ€™t like sheโ€™d have to worry about a Peeping Tom in the country, right?

The phone, which Randy had finished installing right before she lost him, rang. Cuddlesโ€™s usual reaction was to puff up her fur and growl, and she did exactly that and stopped eating until Sheila answered it. She tried to keep her voice cheerful, but she knew what a call before the sun had risen meant.

Universal Purchase Link

  1. Iโ€™m a big fan of happily ever after.
  2. I love gift giving, but Iโ€™m not a skilled gift wrapper. Iโ€™m thankful for gift bags.

D. L. Finn is an independent California local who encourages everyone to embrace their inner child. She was born and raised in the foggy Bay Area, but in 1990 she relocated with her husband, kids, dogs, and cats to Nevada City, in the Sierra foothills. She immersed herself in reading all types of books but especially loved romance, horror, and fantasy. She always treasured creating her own reality on paper. Finally, surrounded by towering pines, oaks, and cedars, her creativity was nurtured until it bloomed. Her creations include childrenโ€™s books, adult fiction, and poetry. She continues on her adventure with an open invitation to all readers to join her.

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D. L. Finnโ€™s Gratitude Store

To celebrate the release, I will be giving away three Amazon Gift Cards: $5, $10, and $15. At the end of the tour, I will randomly pick the three winners from those who leave comments during the blog tour. Good Luck!

D.L. Finnโ€™s wonderful storytelling isnโ€™t new to me. Miracles & Ghosts Past is the second collection of Christmas stories with an ethereal flair. Eight stories of real-life dire circumstances grabbed my attention, and I had hoped for eight happy endings. Speaking of hope, this desire for a positive outcome, coupled with a strong belief in miracles is beautifully woven through each tale. But I also wondered if help would arrive. And in what form? After all, weโ€™ve heard of angels, and the jolly old man with a white beard wearing a red suit, not to mention, friendly ghosts. By gifting us with this beautiful collection, D.L. Finn invites the reader โ€œ…to find your miracle not only during the holiday season but year-round.โ€

I immediately became immersed in each story – the characters, their perseverance, and the authentic settings. My heart ached through the challenging times and beat faster through the trepidation of not knowing what I would read at the end. Each story stirred emotions, but two favorites were โ€œThe Christmas Train Mysteryโ€ and โ€œSheโ€™s Home Alone.โ€

Finn inserted the perfect quantity of suspense to keep me on the edge of my seat. In the first story about the Christmas train, Rita buys train tickets to surprise her husband for their 30th wedding anniversary. Only she is the one who will be surprised by the events to come. โ€œSheโ€™s Home Aloneโ€ evoked memories of a movie I saw years ago, so the storyโ€™s suspense affected me in the same way. Brilliant writing! An eleven-year-old girl is home alone with her imagination that goes wild. Her fright will reach the hearts of all parents.

Do you acknowledge the presence of ghosts, angels, and Santa? If your answer is โ€˜noโ€™ then you will discover newfound beliefs after turning the last page. Highly recommended for you who would welcome a little Christmas magic! ๐Ÿ’ซ๐ŸŽ„

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Thank you for stopping by to support Denise!
I hope you’re enticed enough to add her book
to your home library!
โค๏ธ

ยฉ Lauren Scott, Baydreamerwrites.com

Click on my daughterโ€™s image to order your copy! ๐Ÿงก

Lauren Scott
Author โ€“ King Copper: Our dogโ€™s life in poetry
Author โ€“ Coraโ€™s Quest (a childrenโ€™s book)
Author โ€“ Ever So Gently: A Collection of Poetry
Author โ€“ More than Coffee: Memories of Verse and Prose
Author โ€“ Finding a Balance: A Collection of Poetry
Author โ€“ New Day, New Dreams: A Collection of Poetry
Co-Author โ€“ Tranquility: An Anthology of Haiku
Co-Author โ€“ Petals of Haiku: An Anthology
Co-Author โ€“ This Is How We Grow
Co-Author โ€“ Poetry Treasures 2: Relationships
Bi-Monthly Contributor on Gobblers by Masticadores
Spillwords Author of the Month May 2023
Spillwords Publication of the Month October 2024
Spillwords Publication of the Month June 2025

She Sleeps – A short story

Photo by Naga Sumanth L on Pexels.com

An eerie high-pitched note whirls around in young Beckyโ€™s mind as she sleeps. The howling is earsplitting, wailing just outside her window, imitating a music score in a horror film. Not that she would know because she isnโ€™t old enough to watch scary movies, but her six-year-old imagination tells her so. The trees fall into a trance like a spell has been cast upon them. Rocking back and forth, their branches bend in unnatural ways, the tips like long, pointed fingernails scratching on the double-paned window. The howling grates on her brain like a fork scraping a plate. Raindrops pound with anger. Becky tosses and turns. She fights to stay asleep. Subconsciously, she remembers Beauty and the Beast on the wall above her headboard, the best musical ever, and how she adores Belle. Sheโ€™s carried to a happy place, slowing falling back into a deep slumber, but only temporarily…

The scratching escalates, faster and wilder! The wailing blares louder than fire sirens! With eyes scrunched closed, Becky covers her ears with both hands, hoping to mute the terror. She no longer tosses and turns because her body is paralyzed by fear. She canโ€™t even move an inch, but she has to get out of bed! Itโ€™s coming for her! It will shatter her window and climb inside! Her legs may as well be blocks of cement, but with all her might, she swings her left leg over the side of her twin-sized bed, then her right leg. She is sitting up now but has to run! No time to waste! No time for shoes! Her bare feet must carry her down the hallway to save her parents! Suddenly, Becky hears glass shatter, shards scatter on her bubblegum pink comforter! She flies off her mattress, her legs sprinting out of the room!

For a second, Becky closes her eyes while her legs move at marathon speed, the hallway never seemed so long. And just when she reaches her parentโ€™s doorway, arms bind around her tightly in boa fashion, squeezing the air from her lungs.

โ€œLet me go! Let me go!โ€ She screams loud enough to shake the roof! Her arms and legs fling sporadically, fighting off the huge monster with pointy fingernails!

โ€œBecky, itโ€™s Mom, wake up!โ€ Linda gently shakes her daughter, sitting on the edge of her bed. Belle and the Beast watch from the lilac wall.

โ€œMom! Itโ€™s coming for us! We have to get Dad! We have to leave, now!โ€

โ€œOh, sweetheart, you had a nightmare. Itโ€™s storming outside, but the three of us are safe in the house. Thereโ€™s nothing to be afraid of.โ€

โ€œOh, Mom, I was so scared! I hate the wind!โ€ Becky manages through erratic sobs, hugging her mother, never wanting to let go.

โ€œI donโ€™t like it either,โ€ Linda hugs her daughter back, loving the feel of her little girl safe in her arms. โ€œBut just close your eyes and know that Dad and I will protect you.โ€

And just like that, consoled by her mom, Becky lets go and rolls over onto her right side – exhaustion from the excitement finally kicking in. Her eyelids slowly close. Linda sits for a few minutes, watching her beautiful daughter fall into a peaceful sleep. Her blonde hair cascading across the fluffy pillow. Then Linda gently kisses her daughter on the forehead and quietly steps out of the room, but the earsplitting howling perpetuates. The storm isnโ€™t due to pass for another ten hours.

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ยฉ Lauren Scott, Baydreamerwrites.com
I hope you enjoyed this revised story from a few years ago. โค๏ธ

Click on my daughterโ€™s image to order your copy! ๐Ÿงก

Lauren Scott
Author โ€“ King Copper: Our dogโ€™s life in poetry
Author โ€“ Coraโ€™s Quest (a childrenโ€™s book)
Author โ€“ Ever So Gently: A Collection of Poetry
Author โ€“ More than Coffee: Memories of Verse and Prose
Author โ€“ Finding a Balance: A Collection of Poetry
Author โ€“ New Day, New Dreams: A Collection of Poetry
Co-Author โ€“ Tranquility: An Anthology of Haiku
Co-Author โ€“ Petals of Haiku: An Anthology
Co-Author โ€“ This Is How We Grow
Co-Author โ€“ Poetry Treasures 2: Relationships
Bi-Monthly Contributor on Gobblers by Masticadores
Spillwords Author of the Month May 2023
Spillwords Publication of the Month October 2024
Spillwords Publication of the Month June 2025

An Awkward Move – short story

Photo by Marcus Lenk on Pexels.com

Clinking of pots and pans echoes throughout the house. I sit on my bed, leaning against the pine headboard while Momโ€™s busy in the kitchen getting dinner ready. Dad will walk through the door any minute sporting his huge smile, happy to see his family after a long dayโ€™s work. I miss my brother, Jack, who moved out last August for his first year in college. The house is quiet without him pushing my buttons. He was really good at teasing his younger sister! Now that heโ€™s not here, my heart has a big hole in it, and the void triggers my negative head space. My back slides down the headboard, taking my mood with it. Suddenly, I can hear my grandma say, “You shouldn’t slouch, dear.” My mind drifts about life: everything I love and hate. I know hate is a strong word, but itโ€™s the word that fits. I love my family; itโ€™s me I have a problem with. When I first heard the Taylor Swift song, โ€œThe Outsideโ€ I felt as though she wrote the lyrics for me.

Dad recently accepted a job in this small town. He told Mom that it would benefit his banking career and would be a good change from the big city for all of us. She supported him, so I had to move. After all, Iโ€™m a minor. The bummer is that Iโ€™m a new student at the high school in the middle of my junior year. Not easy for a sixteen-year-old, but I forgive my parents. Maybe Iโ€™m more mature than other teenagers. Sometimes parents have their reasons for doing things and kids will never get it. Most of the time, mine are cool, so I try to understand their decision โ€“ even if this move has been awkward for me.

When Iโ€™m on campus, I feel like a weed in a garden of roses. Acne is so annoying, and my body is the bane of my existence. My parents thought I was cute when I was a chubby, little girl. But cute isnโ€™t what I see staring at me in the mirror. My long, auburn hair, and blue eyes that change to green are the only things I like about myself. I need to lose a few pounds too. The current culture is no body-shaming, but kids do it anyway because some kids are jerks, boys and girls!

Iโ€™m just not a pretty girl on campus, and I don’t care if I’m pretty or not, but being judged makes me feel uncomfortable. I turn a corner in the hall and there’s another model-thin girl strolling past me. Itโ€™s not like they didnโ€™t exist back home in the big city, and pretty girls come in all shapes and sizes. Thin doesnโ€™t mean perfect and thin doesnโ€™t always mean healthy.

So why do I feel unsure about myself? One thing Iโ€™m sure of is that I miss the bright lights and energy buzzing through the streets of the big city, horns honking, and people walking fast in every direction with someplace important they need to be. I had three girlfriends back home, and a couple of boys who werenโ€™t crushes, but cool to hang out with. All the kids in my inner circle accepted each other for who they were. The same insecurities lived with me, but the friends I made were more accepting. We’ve stayed in touch through texts, emails, and talking on the phone, but I wonder if our friendships will eventually fade. It’s hard when you can’t see each other in person. On campus, the perfect kids stare and laugh behind my back. Are these assumptions in my head? No, I couldnโ€™t make up the staring and laughing. I know the difference between reality and imagination.

I tap on the calendar in my cell phoneโ€ฆthree months, two weeks, and four days have passed since the big move across the state. Funny how it feels like a year! My finger hovers above the Facebook app, and I know itโ€™s the wrong move. Stay away, I warn myself, but I donโ€™t listen. I scroll through photos of my friends hanging out with other friends; they seem to mock me. Why donโ€™t I delete my account? I really hate social media, which alone puts me in a different circle than most teens. I’m not one of those girls who likes to share meals, clothes, and fingernail polish. It’s so stupid!

“Emma, you need to just be yourself,” Mom reminds me. She and Dad drill the point across to not worry about what others think. “Try to put yourself out there to make friends, Em,” Dad says. Sure. No problemโ€ฆin a new high school and new town. Easier said than done. I wonder if they’ve forgotten what it’s like to be young.

I close out the Facebook app as quickly as I opened it. If you ask me about popularity, itโ€™s never been important. But I need to find my own group of friends. I want to belong. I want to find my own corner on campus. A patch of grass where I can park myself and talk with other girls or boys who like the things I doโ€ฆcats, dogs, hiking, reading, writing, and listening to music. Can my peers overlook what my mirror shows me? Are my insecurities confusing my perspective? Time plays an important role in life – more wisdom from my parents. So, after more time passes, I may like this town. I may like the school. I may fit in. Itโ€™s hard to imagine, but I donโ€™t feel itโ€™s impossible.

Momโ€™s voice travels up the stairs like a pop song melody, telling me that dinner’s on the table. I can smell her spaghetti sauce. She is the best cook! The Italian aroma lifts my spirits as my stomach growls. I slide off my bed and hit the stairs running. Dad got home twenty minutes earlier, giving him and Mom time to catch up before I join them. We sit down at our oak dining table and they ask about my highs and lows. Itโ€™s a good way for them to understand what Iโ€™m going through. I can talk to them about anything. They have an open door policy, but there’s one thing I haven’t shared…

After dinner, I offer to do the dishes, but mom gives me the night off. I take the stairs two at a time back to my room. I pull my cat journal out of my desk drawer and slide into my usual spot on the bed, pushing my pillow up against the headboard and scooting back into it. My thoughts wander on the lined pages. It’s amazing how time flies when I’m reading a great book or writing. The sun begins to set. Darkness slowly falls outside my window. The bright moon winks at me through my shutters, and it’s comforting. Tomorrow is Friday. One more day at school before the weekend. I can make it. Wow, I feel tired, but my thoughts won’t sleep.

I think about how we used to go to church as a family. It’s been a few years since my parents became frustrated with some people in the congregation. Disheartened enough that they decided to step away from organized religion. I still say prayers though. Does God listen? I donโ€™t know, but I always feel better afterwards. Iโ€™m sure it helps just getting the words out. Telling the universe about what makes me happy and anxious. And I always say what Iโ€™m grateful for โ€“ Mom and Dad who love me and who try their best, and Jack who I miss so much. I know how lucky I am.

Tonight is different though. I close my eyes, and I pray for something that Iโ€™ve never talked about. I didn’t want Mom and Dad to worry about me or feel bad about moving. So, tonight I pray for a friend, someone to laugh with. Someone to calm the negative thoughts spinning inside my mind. Parents can only help to a certain point. A friend will ease the awkwardness of moving to a strange town in the middle of high school. A friend will make me feel accepted. Just one friend. Can you hear me, God? Am I asking for too much? Itโ€™s not like Iโ€™m asking for two.

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Click on my daughterโ€™s image to order your copy! ๐Ÿงก

ยฉ Lauren Scott, Baydreamerwrites.com
This blog content cannot be used to train AI.


Author – King Copper: Our dogโ€™s life in poetry
Author โ€“ Coraโ€™s Quest (a childrenโ€™s book)
Author โ€“ Ever So Gently: A Collection of Poetry
Author โ€“ More than Coffee: Memories of Verse and Prose
Author โ€“ Finding a Balance: A Collection of Poetry
Author โ€“ New Day, New Dreams: A Collection of Poetry
Co-Author โ€“ Tranquility: An Anthology of Haiku
Co-Author โ€“ Petals of Haiku: An Anthology
Co-Author โ€“ This Is How We Grow
Co-Author โ€“ Poetry Treasures 2: Relationships
Bi-Monthly Contributor at Gobblers by Masticadores
Spillwords Author of the Month May 2023
Spillwords Publication of the Month October 2024
Spillwords Publication of the Month June 2025

Resilience is Her Saving Grace

The tempest held its vigil on the horizon but continued to fool her. Devotion in his eyes mesmerized her whole being, awakened every pulse in her body. Eyes that spoke the language of love where their future glowed like an apricot dawn. She bestowed her heart permission to be swept into his pools of blueโ€ฆ

And yet, every day she anticipates the sting from his hand โ€“ the palm or back, makes no difference. The sting smarts like hell, but her heart secures the brunt of the damage. The slaps begin early each morning if she doesnโ€™t move fast enough to appease his caffeine demands. And itโ€™s ironic that he chose โ€˜chaletโ€™ for his cell alarm because the calming tone contrasts to his horrific demeanor. After he walks through the front door following a dayโ€™s work, if she so much as smiles unknowingly to his disliking, his hand finds her cheek, and she feels the strike of skin even before impact. 5 p.m. on the mantel clock makes her heart pound as though trying to make a getaway.

They found their beautiful house together in a quiet neighborhood without sidewalks. Neighbors walk in the middle of the road, usually with leash in hand and their dogs beside them. Light traffic allows them to do this. Theirs is a ranch style with four bedrooms for their future children, he used to say. He told her that he couldnโ€™t wait to be a father, which warmed her heart because becoming a mom in a year or two was her wish. A huge oak tree stands in the front yard covered in a lush lawn. Orange, yellow, and red marigolds decorate the walkway, and lavender hydrangeas and pink roses lean against the front of the house. But now the house that once was a home mirrors a prison. Cameras keep their eyes on her as he watches from his downtown office. Claustrophobia slithers down her spine. She struggles to quell the panic attacks. And her cell is meant only to reach him or to answer his calls. He tracks her like a wild animal. The ring on her finger stole all contact from the outside world โ€“ lost like a loved oneโ€™s passing. Grieving has no end, but she doesnโ€™t dare misbehave because the pain is relentless.

She recalls the beautiful moments when his hands would send tingles from her neck down the map of her body. What did I do wrong? consumed her every thought when he transformed from loving husband to beast. Thoughts that became so tangled, she couldnโ€™t ruminate until the truth stared her in the face. Her cheeks grew hot like asphalt in August from the realization that the monster had always existed.

Before the perfect couple whispered those two celebrated words on that breezy afternoon, signifying โ€œYou are my forever person,โ€ he wore charm impeccably like a well-pressed dress shirt โ€“ his kisses intoxicating as jasmine, gentle like summer rain – respect enfolded in each embrace. Then donning satin and lace, the solitaire sparkled like her heart and soul, but true personas can take cover behind convincing eyes and smiles.

How could she have missed the signs? She ponders over and over.

Time โ€“ revelations, decisions, and strategies always take time. Her defense, submission, though she loathes appearing weak, and the agony tests her strength. But the path will wend its way, leading her to a door for a fresh start, caressing her bruised face and her body, his punching bag.

Gazing out the window, she watches courage whirl among the cottony clouds. Around the corner, freedom waits with intensity, as though motioning for her to come closer, excited for her new, safe beginning. She witnesses a glimpse of hope in the pink daisy pushing through the crack in the sidewalk.

But biding her time means life, and staying alive is her objective. She must bleed toughly. Resilience is her saving grace and not meant to be scattered on the floor, anymore. She must be smart to be free.

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ยฉ Lauren Scott, Baydreamerwrites.com โ€“ All rights reserved.

A collection of poems that speaks of natureโ€™s healing touch,
how love shapes our lives, and the mysteries of life.
Click on the image to purchase your copyThank you! ๐Ÿ’š

Sally’s Christmas Book Fair you don’t want to miss!

Dear Family and Friends,

I am thrilled that my book, Ever So Gently, has been embraced by Sally for her wonderful Christmas Book Fair! And to be in the company of amazing friends and authors such as Annette Rochelle Aben and Colleen M. Chesebro is truly an honor. Congratulations to them and to all the authors Sally has graciously supported in this warm community. To learn more about Sally and our books, please visit her blog, Smorgasbord Blog Magazine, by clicking on the link below.

Thanks for dropping in, and I wish you a lovely last day of November. โค๏ธ๐Ÿงก๐Ÿ

ยฉ Lauren Scott, Baydreamerwrites.com โ€“ All rights reserved.

Click on the image to purchase your copy. ๐Ÿ’š

The Hills

The four boys ran for the rolling hills at the top of their street! They anticipated their next adventure after school and on the weekends when freedom was real. Kites stretched to touch the sky when it turned a brilliant blue. Four sets of hands built dams with rocks, sticks, and branches. A first cigarette drag under the big oak. The rain didnโ€™t stop them; they headed for the tree fort! Two stories, carpeted, and eighteen feet up the trunk! Sledding down the grass on cardboard brought laughter. Imagination was their fearless leader โ€“ the way it was back then.  

ยฉ Lauren Scott โ€“ Baydreamerwrites.com โ€“ All rights reserved.

To buy your copy, simply click on the
image. Thank you!
๐Ÿ™๐Ÿป๐Ÿ’š